If You Could Only Feel (Buchanan Brothers Series Book 3)

by M. E. Clayton

  Justice was still asking questions when I pushed her up against the block wall. “Gabe, wha-”

  I reached down and ran my hand up her leg until I reached her lace panties. Without any concern for anything else in the world, I ripped the flimsy piece of fabric from her body. Her eyes widened as she realized what was happening. I had my pants unbuttoned, unzipped and my dick out before she had the chance to protest.

  I lifted her up and drove into her hot, tight cunt.

  “Gabriel!”

  I hadn’t prepared her, so I knew that wasn’t exactly a cry of pleasure. Even soaking wet, Justice always needed time to adjust to my size. A nine-inch dick was no joke.

  Her hands curled into my shoulders so hard, her nails broke the skin even through my dress shirt. “Oh, my God, Gabriel!”

  I ignored her cries and kept pounding away inside her pussy, and soon enough, her body became aroused and she was beginning to become slick all around me.

  Once her cries turned into moans of pleasure, I laid down the rules. “This pussy is mine, Justice,” I growled between pants. “Mine. You’re mine. Every fucking inch of you belongs to me.”

  “Gabriel…”

  “I’m the only one who gets to kiss you, taste you, tease you and fuck you,” I stated. “Me and only me, Justice.”

  I imprisoned her body against the wall with mine and with one hand I forced her to look at me. Her eyes were hooded, her breaths labored, and her skin flushed. She looked fucking spectacular. “Please, Gabriel…”

  I stilled inside of her. My dick up inside her snug cunt as far as it could go in this position. I needed to know I haven’t fucked this up. “How many other men have there been, Justice?”

  Her eyes widened and then immediately filled up with tears. I’d never seen her cry before. I’ve never seen her be anything other than happy to see me. So, those quiet, crocodile tears were gutting me. In six years, she’s never shown me an emotion besides lust and contentment.

  Fuck. Me. Now that I think about it, in six years there should have been fights, arguments, tears, laughs and happiness. But looking back, there’s only ever been lust and contentment.

  “There’s only been you, Gabriel,” she sobbed. “I’ve never even touched another man.”

  I started moving inside her again. This time harder and deeper. She went back to moaning and the confliction of her moaning in pleasure while tears slid down her face had me on the edges of insanity.

  “There’ll never be another man for you, baby. Ever,” I declared as her body started to clench around me. She was on the verge of cumming all over me and I wasn’t going to stop until there was a puddle of us at our feet. “That’s it, baby. Cum all over my fucking cock.” Her hand tightened as her body fell over the edge. Her pussy tightened and convulsed around my dick causing me to follow right behind her.

  One of the things I loved about being with Justice is that we had never used condoms. From the first time to now. When we knew we were taking our friendship to the next level, she had gotten on birth control and my cock has never known latex.

  I’ve cum down her throat, in her pussy, inside her ass, all over her face, neck and tits. I’ve even massaged my cum into her back and her ass like lotion. Justice has literally been covered in my cum from head to toe throughout these last six years. And the caveman in me loved that.

  I loved experiencing her evolution from a shy virgin to a woman who’s let me cum in her ass. And now she let me fuck her in public; something we’ve never done before.

  Once her tremors subsided, I pulled out of her and helped steady her on her feet. I tucked my dick back into my pants and then helped her smooth out her dress.

  When she looked up at me, her face still showed the evidence of her tears and that’s when I realized how much of a dick I really have been to her.

  I cradled her face and wiped her tears away with my thumbs. “Justi-”

  She waved a hand in insignificance at me. “It’s just the alcohol, Gabriel,” she uttered, embarrassed.

  Fuck that. “Baby, look at me.” I waited until her big blue eyes found mine. “There’s only you, Justice.” The tears started up again, but I kept going. “I’ve never been with anyone else. I’ve never wanted to be with anyone else. It’s been only you since I was 15 fucking years old.” She let out a tired sob. “Justice, baby, I see nobody but you. I’ve never been able to see past you to notice anyone else.”

  Her small hands tightened around my wrists. “Do you swear?” she asked through her tears.

  I really needed to get my ass kicked. In all these years, it never occurred to me that she thought I’d been with other women. Sure, I knew it might have been a valid concern when I had gone off to college, but she had never brought it up. She had never said anything.

  “I swear to God, there’s nobody but you.” I leaned down and kissed her softly on the lips. “And I’m going to spend the entire weekend making sure you never forget it.”

  “I don’t want to think this weekend,” she said. “I just want to feel you, Gabriel.”

  “I can do that.” And I did.

  Chapter 11

  Justice~

  Jesus H. Christ!

  I’ve looked bad the next morning, after partying up a storm before, but this was ridiculous.

  I felt like my head was going to explode.

  Or maybe I just wanted it to.

  I stared into the bathroom mirror and cringed. I looked like a gang-banged porn star at the end of a taping. Well…except for my face.

  My face was clean of…stuff.

  And I had a robe on.

  It’s the little things.

  Considering how this weekend had gone, I should be grateful for the little things.

  The entire weekend had been one big blur of poor choices and reckless decisions, and while I wasn’t a stranger to having a good time, even I had to admit, this weekend had been beyond the pale.

  I’ve never drank my weight in alcohol before like I did last night.

  I’ve never been so drunk I went out and got a tattoo like I did Friday night.

  I’ve never been so turned on that I let a man take me in a dark alleyway like I did Thursday night.

  Or up against the back of the casino like I did Friday night.

  Or offered up my ass, begging and pleading, like I did last night.

  I never should have answered my goddamn phone. That had been my first mistake.

  I had flown to Las Vegas to get the hell away from Gabriel Buchanan and what do I do? I answer his call like a complete, lovesick -besotted fool. I answered his fucking phone call and spent the last three days in an alcohol-induced sex-a-thon with the man.

  The man I was trying to break away from.

  The man I was trying to forget.

  The man I had given my virginity to.

  The man who broke my heart with every phone call, every conversation and every touch of his body.

  We weren’t children anymore.

  We weren’t young adults searching for our way through college, either.

  I was still Justice Hillman, high school graduate, who went on to work as a clerk for Dr. Daughtry, who just happened to be the biggest pervert on the planet.

  And Gabriel was still Gabriel Buchanan with all his power, money and prestige.

  I made enough to live on, but I was nowhere near close to being in Gabriel Buchanan’s league. I was never close enough to be in Gabriel Buchanan’s league. But, then, few people were.

  I continued to stare at myself in the mirror. My hair looked like an explosion of colors matted on the top of my head; you could hardly see any of the natural blonde. My eye make-up looked like I was going for the zombie look. My face pale, my blue eyes bloodshot.

  I really did look like a porn star after a gang bang.

  But to be fair, Gabriel fucked like a porn star.

  Last night had been the be all, end all of our weekend stupidity. I was so drunk last night that most of it was blips of images and noth
ing more. Even as drunk as I was on Thursday and Friday night, I still remembered most of what we had done. Even the stupid tattoos.

  But last night…last night would have made the most depraved of villains proud. Last night was the skeleton in your closet you wanted to go with you to the grave.

  We drank like fools, danced like idiots, ran around like wayward children and fucked liked we were on ecstasy. Gabe’s done a myriad of things to me in the six years we’ve been sleeping together, but this is the first time we’ve spent three full days doing nothing but drinking and screwing. My body ached and hurt in places that I was going to regret days from now.

  Anal sex felt phenomenal when in the moment, but if you weren’t careful, unpleasantness followed for days after. And I begged Gabriel to hold nothing back when I let him slip inside my ass last night.

  And the fucker didn’t.

  However, no matter how horrible the image was that stared back at me; the matted hair, the bloodshot eyes, the clown make-up, the godawful hickeys that lined my neck and chest, none of it was distracting me from the shine and weight of the stupid, idiotic, unbelievably giant ring that sat on my ring finger.

  No matter how many times I closed my eyes, only to reopen them, it was still there.

  Laughing at me.

  Taunting me.

  Torturing me.

  All I could do was pray that Gabriel didn’t have one on his hand. Maybe this was all a joke, and the ring was a souvenir or a toy out of a coin machine.

  I mean, it looked real.

  It felt real.

  Felt like a real fucking stupid ass mistake.

  Even though I knew the truth in the pit of my stomach, I still prayed that I was wrong. There’s no way I married Gabriel last night. Hell, there’s no way he married me. I mean, it’s one thing to tell me I’ve been the only one, it’s another thing to fucking marry me.

  Okay, I couldn’t put it off any longer. I had to go back out there and see if Gabriel was wearing a ring too and if there were any papers lying around to confirm how stupid I was over this man.

  I cracked open the bathroom floor and crept my way towards the bed and the naked man that was sleeping on his stomach in it.

  Even though I felt like I was going to vomit my life all over the place, my eyes still took in an appreciative glance at his naked body. Those abs, alone, might be worth marrying the man for.

  Jesus Christ.

  Standing over the bed, I managed to pull my eyes away from Gabriel’s sleeping body and they fell on what, sickingly, looked like a wedding certificate. Gabriel moaned and stretched, and when he rolled himself onto his back, his arms flying out beside him, that’s when I saw it. The matching ring to my wedding set. I fucking married Gabriel Buchanan last night.

  Sonofabitch!

  I didn’t understand.

  Bartenders are required by law to yank a patron’s keys if they feel they’re too drunk to drive, but it’s okay to marry two people who are blitz out of their minds? How is that even right? Or ethical?

  The state of Nevada should totally pass a law requiring a breathalyzer test before agreeing to marry someone.

  I dropped on the bed, not caring if I woke Gabriel or not. This was a fucking disaster. How did I go from wanting Gabriel to take me on a simple date to marrying the man? Sure, I loved him. I can fully admit to that. But Gabriel didn’t love me. Even if he hasn’t been with anyone else, he’s never once hinted to having feelings for me.

  Well, at least, not before this weekend.

  Oh, God, what were his brothers going to say? How was Mason Buchanan going to react when he finds out his little brother married the girl from the trailer park?

  I stood up, grabbed the offending marriage certificate and went to find my phone. I tightened the robe around me as I searched for a phone number on the certificate and license.

  AHA! I found one for the chapel.

  I dialed the number and prayed for someone to answer. God answered my prayers on the third ring. “Good Morning. Thank you for calling the Little White Wedding Chapel. I’m Christine, how may I help you?”

  “Oh, God, Christine,” I rushed out like we were BFFs. “My name is Justice Hillm…” Oh my God! I didn’t even know my last name right now! “…Justice Hillman and there’s some morning after evidence that indicates that I may have gotten married last night.”

  “Justice Hillman…hmm,” she mused.

  “Uh, Buchanan, then,” I said, trying to help. “Gabriel and Justice Buch...uhm, Buchanan.”

  “Oh, now I remember,” she said, breezily. “The matching tattoos.”

  I groaned. Jesus don’t remind me. “I’m calling because I need to know how to get a divorce. Or an annulment. Or a goddamn lobotomy.”

  “Well, you hav-” I yelped and turned around as the phone was plucked from my fingers. Gabriel was standing there, in all his glorious nudity, looking pissed. “Wh…what…”

  “I know you’re hungover and feeling like shit, Justice,” he snapped, gruffly. “I don’t feel any better. However, that doesn’t change shit about last night.”

  “Gabriel…”

  He turned his back on me. “I’m ordering some breakfast. What would you like Mrs. Buchanan?”

  Chapter 12

  Gabriel~

  After ordering room service, I headed for the shower. My head was pounding, and my body was oozing a cocktail of liquors out of every pore.

  I’ve never partied like this before in my life, and experiencing the aftermath of it now, I’m glad I never did.

  Mason had never let us lose sight of who we were and what we represented, so we never got sloppy drunk or partook in drugs. There was no way we would ever risk getting caught up in fights, pregnancy scares or the like. Well, except for when Mason beat the shit out of Branson Morgan when he flirted with Shane at a party during our college years.

  But I have been drunk before. I have partied until I passed out, but it was in the privacy of our own home with just me and my brothers and their wives. So, I wasn’t a stranger to hangovers, but I was to one this strong. I also knew food would fix me right up though. However, I couldn’t speak for Justice.

  I let the water beat on my shoulders as I recalled how she called the wedding chapel to find out how to divorce me. I was pissed. Kind of still am.

  In her drunken, sexually blitzed out stupor, she had confessed to loving me. She had confessed to loving me since we were16 and she even admitted how she kept her mouth shut all these years because she’d rather have a piece of me than nothing at all.

  She hadn’t let me comment as she explained how it was no longer enough, though. She wanted real love with a real boyfriend who took her on real dates and wasn’t ashamed of her.

  I loved Justice. Always have. So, love wasn’t an issue when I married her, but even I can admit I did it here and now because her accusation that I was ashamed of her had boiled my blood.

  I was not ashamed of her.

  I’ve never been ashamed of her.

  At first, my issue was my father’s stance on the opposite sex. He thought women were the devil, and he warned us constantly to be on our guard against them. He didn’t approve of us running around getting laid and he had really believed that, when the time came, he would be the one to pick our respectable, appropriate brides.

  Mason had ended that fairy tale the second he couldn’t stay away from Shane any longer. And Michael had been right. I had our father as an excuse the first couple of years, but I didn’t have an excuse for my behavior for the past four. Well, other than being a self-absorbed bastard, that is.

  When Justice said she wanted a man who wasn’t ashamed of her. I had dragged her drunken ass to the registrar’s office, got a license and made our way to the nearest wedding chapel.

  We recited the traditional vows, and pulling out the rings I had bought when I first got to Las Vegas, slipped them on, kissed her and a marriage was born.

  And, all, without a pre-nup. Because, in all honesty, if Justice ever
did leave me, the rest of what I had wouldn’t be worth a shit.

  I was finally going to get around to taking an actual shower, with soap and all, when I heard the door creak open. “The food’s here.”

  “Okay,” I replied. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

  The door shut, and I took a deep breath. I loved this girl so much, but I had no idea how to connect with her outside the bedroom. Or sober, apparently.

  My body jolted in surprise when the shower door swung open. I turned my head to find a naked Justice standing just outside the shower. “I need a shower too,” she said, timidly.

  And I needed my dick in her pussy, but I didn’t say that. Instead, I just simply stepped aside and allowed her room to enter. She stepped under the showerhead and the water turned her mermaid colored hair into a flowing prism of colors.

  When she turned her back towards me and reached for the soap in the holder, her wedding rings sparkled with so much shine, I lost it.

  I grabbed her by her hips, shoved her up against the wall and pressed her hands against the tile over her head.

  I wanted to stare at those rings while I fucked her.

  I wanted to fuck my wife again.

  “Gabriel…”

  “You don’t know what you’ve done, Justice,” I told her.

  Holding her left arm hostage above her head with one hand, I let my other hand trail over her shoulders, down her spine and in between the crease of her ass cheeks. I could feel the ridges of her tight, puckered ass from being overused last night.

  As water sluiced down our bodies adding lubrication, I eased a finger inside her ass. She moaned. “Wh…what do you mean?”

  “I mean, before when you were just my girlfriend, I had complete control of your body and what I wanted to do with it.” I slowly pulled and pushed with my finger, getting her ready for another hard ass fucking. “But now that you’re my wife…” She whimpered. “…now that I’m your husband, that means I fucking own you, Justice.”

  “Gabe…”

  “I fucking own you,” I repeated. “And that means your little ultimatum was more of a premonition than anything, Justice.” I nipped at the shell of her ear. “Now I really can do whatever I want to, whenever I want to, however the fuck I want to.”