Love Song Series Box Set

by Emily Minton

  I close my eyes to stop the tears from falling. How the hell did I get so lucky? How did I find my very own knight in shining armor? “You are my dreams, my sweet dreams. You have been for years.”

  “Fuck, I love you.”

  “I love you, too. That’s why I’m sure,” I say while looking into his eyes, willing him to see the truth.

  Bending down, he places an arm behind my knees and picks me. He cradles me against his chest as he walks up the stairs.

  As we step through the bedroom door, the scent of vanilla hits my nose. I look around the room, and candles and flowers are everywhere. “Oh my God. It’s beautiful.”

  He squeezes me even tighter as he walks toward the bed. Slowly laying me down, he looks around the bedroom, appearing every bit as shocked as me. He’s quiet for a long time before looking back at me. “Do you like it?”

  “Uhm, of course.”

  It’s gorgeous, but it smells like vanilla. There is no way in hell I’m telling Brandon how much I hate that scent. My mother, at least the woman I thought was my mother, always smelled strongly of vanilla perfume. Smelling it does not bring to mind the best of memories, to say the least.

  “When did you have time to do this?” When we left for court, none of this was here, and he hasn’t left my side since we walked out of the apartment this morning.

  “I called in a few favors,” he answers hesitantly, obviously keeping something from me.

  Ah, now I get it. “Kristen did this, right?”

  He nods. “She was supposed to help set up a party. I wanted to celebrate us winning.”

  I love the fact that he thinks today was about us and not just me. “She did a wonderful job.”

  He motions around the room. “This isn’t what I meant, and she knew it. I thought everyone would be here when we got home. I figured we could have some pizza, maybe a little beer, and everyone could hang out for a while.”

  “This is perfect though. It’s still a celebration. It’s just that we are the only two getting to celebrate.”

  “Yeah, but it makes it look like I was planning this, and I wasn’t. I don’t want you to feel pressured.”

  Now, I understand. “Brandon, I said I wanted this before we even came upstairs. If I hadn’t, all the candles and flowers in the world wouldn’t change my mind.”

  He slowly sits on the bed and pulls me into his lap. “Are you still sure? Now that we’re up here, have you changed your mind?”

  He’s been so hesitant since our wedding night, so afraid of frightening me. I’m ashamed of the way I acted, but I realize now I wasn’t ready. I am now. With the fear of my parents’ threats behind me, I’m finally free and ready to move forward. “I want you, Brandon. I’ve never wanted anything as badly as I want you.”

  “Thank God!” he says as he leans his head down and brings his lips to mine.

  I can’t hold in the giggle at his enthusiasm, as well as my own. Our teeth clash as we both smile through our kisses. Brandon releases his hold on me, and I stand. My eyes lock with his as I kick my shoes off then shimmy out of my dress. As I reach behind me to unclasp my bra, Brandon rips his shirt over his head then toes off his shoes, followed quickly by his pants. My bra and panties quickly join the pile of clothes on the floor. I’m standing in front of my husband, bare for the first time, with no fear.

  I take a moment to take in the room around us, wanting to absorb everything. This moment will always live in my memory. It will always hold a place in my heart. It has taken my entire adult life to get here, and finally, I’m going to freely give myself to a man, but not just any man; Brandon, the man I love with my entire being, the man who I know would do anything to protect me and keep me safe, the one who would never hurt me, never degrade me, only love me.

  Brandon lifts me into his arms, pulling a girly squeal from my lungs; he tosses me onto the bed where I land with a bounce. Laughter bubbles up, and the lightness that’s been growing inside me expands, soaking up another piece of my dark past. He climbs into the bed after me, growling as he moves closer to me.

  I throw my head back on the pillow, more giggles bubbling up. “So ferocious,” I tease, completely letting go of my fear.

  “All the better to please you, my little Lady bug.” His eyebrows waggle as he tickles my side.

  I know he’s doing everything he can to make me feel comfortable, and seeing my alpha male husband being so playful has me laughing nearly to the point of tears. My laughter is cut off suddenly when Brandon’s hot mouth covers my core. His tongue slips between my lips and connects directly with my sensitive clit. My hands grab onto Brandon’s hair, and I’m torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer.

  “Oh my God, that feels…”

  “Hmm?” He sucks my clit into his mouth, rolling his tongue over it again and again, stealing my breath in the best way. “How does it feel, baby?”

  I groan at the frustration of him stopping. Using my grip in his hair, I pull his face back to where it was, demanding he continue. He follows my lead, circling my clit with his tongue. Two fingers slip into me then curve, rubbing my walls and driving me to orgasm. I’ve not even caught my breath before Brandon is on me, kissing my mouth. I taste myself on him, but it only drives me higher into bliss. I know he’s not doing it to embarrass or humiliate me. He is kissing me because he loves me and wants me to feel good.

  His cock nudges my entrance, and I suck in a breath. “You okay?”

  “Yes, please, Brandon, make love to me.”

  All of his playfulness is gone as he asks, “Are you sure, Bethany. I swear I’ll wait as long as you need.”

  I don’t even hesitate before lifting my hips enough to bring his cock into me just a bit. “I am more than sure. I’m positive.”

  Slowly, he enters me inch by inch. He’s so big, I’m worried he’s going to split me in two, but each slow thrust and retreat has my body relaxing and him sliding deeper. “You feel so fucking good,” he praises. “So hot and tight. God, I love you.” My hips push up into him, and he groans. “Stay still, baby. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  I feel so full. I need him to move. It’s too much and not enough all at the same time. I roll my hips again, and the friction feels incredible, so I keep rolling them. Brandon looks down at me, a look of consternation on his face. “I’m not going to break, honey. I want you – this.”

  Whether it’s my words or something he sees on my face, he slowly pulls himself out of my heat then thrusts forward. The moan he pulls from me encourages him, and he repeats the motion, thrusting a bit harder each time, until finally, he’s making love to me the way he wants. His lips meet mine, and his hands cup my cheeks, his weight resting on his elbows as he rocks into me over and over. I wrap my legs around his waist and find his rhythm, returning his passion.

  “Bran… oh… I’m…” I pant, not able to make any sense. I’m so lost in the pleasure.

  “I got you, baby. Let go. Give it to me”

  He thrusts into me deep then grinds against me, the friction on my clit throwing me over, and I come in a screaming orgasm.

  “Ah, that’s it, baby. Milk my cock,” Brandon encourages as his thrusts lose our perfect rhythm, and I feel him pulse inside me.

  He instantly rolls over, and my heart clenches, doubt and fear rushing in, but before it can take over, Brandon pulls me into him, resting me against his chest. “Are you okay?”

  The fear fades away instantly. “I’ve never been more okay in my entire life.”

  “Thank God,” he mutters, burying his face in my hair.

  I think about the enormity of what just happened, and a smile crosses my face. “I don’t think all the pieces are there yet, but I do think you’ve got a good start at putting me back together again.”

  “I love you, Lady Bug,” he says after a long moment.

  I can’t hold in the huge, happy smile at my nickname. “I love you too.”

  Epilogue

  I look up at my husband and smile. It’s been
a little more than three years since Brandon and I were married, and they have been the best three years of my life. A day doesn’t go by that he doesn’t tell me how much he loves me, and a night never passes that he doesn’t show me. He is kind, gentle, caring, domineering, and can be a pain in my ass, and I love him more every single day.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  I nod, reassuring him. “I’m positive.”

  He looks over my shoulder to the weathered old man sitting at the corner booth. “If he says anything to piss you off, you just come get me. I’ll be watching the entire time.”

  We’ve been over this a million times, but I knew he’d have to remind me again. “I will, sweetheart.”

  He gives me a soft kiss just below my ear. “I love you, Lady Bug.”

  “I love you too.”

  With that, he lets go of me and makes his way to the bar. As soon as he sits on the barstool, I start walking toward my father. When his eyes meet mine, I nearly stumble. I just wasn’t prepared for the sight of him. This is the first time I have laid eyes on him since that day in court.

  I had wanted to do this on my own, but Brandon was worried that it would be too much. We had argued. I screamed; he yelled. Then, as usual, we compromised. He would come with me to the restaurant, but I could talk to my father on my own. Now, facing the man that I had both loved and hated all of my life, I realize that Brandon was right. I need him here, even if he is across the room. His presence will give me the strength to get through this.

  As I approach the table, he stand ups. “Bethany.”

  “Father,” I say, causing him to flinch.

  “You used to call me Daddy.”

  “What?” I ask as I slide into the booth.

  He takes his seat and looks at me. “When you were a little girl, you used to call me Daddy. I knew you might grow out of that someday, but I dreaded the day it would happen. When it did, I missed hearing you say it like crazy.”

  “You hated it,” I say, playing with the napkin in my lap.

  He shakes his head. “I loved it.”

  “Mother… uhm, I mean, your wife said you hated it.”

  Not long after the hearing, I discovered that my father had married his wife when I was two years old. My real mother had died in car accident not long after giving birth to me. Her and Father were not married, not even dating at the time of her death, but she respected him enough to allow him to be part of my life.

  According to her family, people that I met only after discovering the truth, he had been a doting dad until he remarried. They claimed his wife had seemed to be a decent person at first, but her son was always a menace. Even as a child, he would terrorize me. When they complained, my parents cut them out of my life. As the years passed, and many attempts to see me had failed, we lost contact. They never forgot me, though, and welcomed me back into the family with open arms.

  “She’s no longer my wife.”

  Shocked, I let out a gasp. He left her? I couldn’t believe it. “When?”

  “We’ve been divorced for more than two years. I filed two days after that mockery of a court battle.”

  Mrs. Daniels, as I’ve become accustomed to calling her, married my father after her own husband had died of a heart attack. He was a partner in my father’s law firm, before my father had left his practice to become a judge. After his death, some very disturbing things were made public, including the fact that he sexually and physically abused his son and wife. My grandmother, my real mother’s mom, said she believed my father married her out of some sense of guilt. He felt as if he should have known what was going on, considering he worked with the man every day. He adopted her son out of the same sense of guilt.

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” The words are a lie, but I force them out anyway.

  “I’m not sorry, not about divorcing her. I’m sorry for a lot of other things though.”

  I slowly lift my eyes to his and see them filled with unshed tears. “I know you are.”

  He has written me many letters over the last three years. Just like with Brandon, I fell in love with him through those letters. When he wrote to me, he was the dad I always wanted to have as a child. He never talked about Dean or Mrs. Daniels; he simply talked about me as a child. He wrote of the time I scraped my knee learning to ride my first bike, when I played Rudolph in the Christmas play at school, how I always liked two spoons full of sugar in my cheerios. He wrote about things that made me realize I was precious to him in some way.

  “I wish I could go back and change things. You can’t imagine how bad I want to just do it all over again.”

  “I know,” I repeat in a whispered voice.

  “Dean touched you. He touched my baby, and I didn’t know,” he says. His voice is raspy, full of pain. “I brought that monster into our home. I married that bitch and brought that bastard into your life. It was entirely my fault.”

  Tears fall down my face as forgiveness fills my heart. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  His voice rises as he leans against the back of the booth. “I should have known what was going on in my own home. If I’d taken a look around, I would have realized something was wrong.”

  A part of me wants to deny his words, offer him the absolution he needs, but a larger part agrees with him. “You should have, but you didn’t. There’s nothing you can do to change that now.”

  He stares at me as tears roll down his cheeks. “What can I do to make it up to you?”

  I turn my head to Brandon, reassuring myself that he’s still there. His eyes are narrowed on my father, and he looks like he’s about ready to pounce. Looking back, I tell my father the truth. “There is nothing you can do to make me forget the past, but you can help make the future better.”

  He looks puzzled for a moment before he follows my hand to my still flat stomach. “A baby?”

  I don’t answer the implied question. Instead, I tell him the only thing he can do to salvage any type of relationship with me. “Be a better grandfather than you were a father.”

  “I promise.”

  We continue to talk for a few more minutes before I stand up and say goodbye. It was a short visit, and I can tell he wants more, but it’s all I can give him right now. Maybe next time I will stay longer. I may even introduce him to the most important person in my life, my husband.

  I meet Brandon half way to the bar. He immediately wraps his arms around me. “Are you okay baby?”

  Looking into those stunning eyes I love so much, I smile. “Fine.”

  He places a quick kiss on my lips before taking my hand and leading me to the door. Just before we step outside, I hear the sound of Amy Lee singing Broken in the bar. I pull on Brandon’s hand, forcing him to stop, and listen to the heart wrenching lyrics for just a moment.

  Finally, I look up and say, “I’m not broken anymore, am I?”

  He smiles as he pulls me into his arms. “No, baby. You’re not.”

  Suicide Prevention: 1-800-273-TALK (8255)

  Turn the page for a Bonus Novella

  I Hope You Dance

  I Hope You Dance

  Love Song Series - #2.5

  By Emily Minton & Dawn Martens

  Chapter One

  Jenny

  Mom kisses my cheek before stepping back and smiling at me. “You look so beautiful, baby girl.”

  “Dad says I look just like just like you did on the day the two of you got married.” When he said it, just a few minutes ago, I cried big fat ugly tears. There is no bigger compliment than being compared to my mother. In my eyes, she’s the most beautiful woman in the world.

  She shakes her head. “Oh no, sweet heart. I’ve never looked this gorgeous in my life.”

  “Bullshit,” Kristen says as she reaches over to straighten my veil. “You look just your mom did that day. The only difference is Julie didn’t have tattoos running up and down her arm.”

  She eyes the offending art work before stepping back. When I first started getting
ink, I thought for sure crazy Kris would love them. I was wrong; dead wrong. She’s all for the pink streaks in my hair, but permanently inking my body was a no go for her.

  “I think they are just as beautiful as the rest of you,” Aunt Bethy says as she reaches for me and runs her hand down my bare arm.

  Bethy was another surprise. Where I thought she would find the tattoos tacky, she ended up loving them; loving them enough to get one of her own. A year later, she now sports one on each wrist, covering the scars that remind her of days better forgotten. There’s a beautiful rainbow running across her back, with lyrics from an old song by some band called Seether curling around the colors. She also has another one but refuses to show it to me. She says it’s for Uncle Brandon’s eyes only.

  “Come on, girls,” says Dad as he walks into the room, halting all talk of my tattoos.

  Mom turns to him in an instant, her eyes tearing up. “Can you believe our baby is getting married?”

  “No, I’m not,” Jamie says, strutting into the room. “The old maid is getting married, not the baby.”

  “Shut up, punk,” I say then send my fist flying into his shoulder. “I’m twenty-two. That’s not old.”

  My brother rolls his eyes as only a twelve year old can. “You’re almost twenty-three. That’s only eight years from thirty.”

  “Screw you,” I say, saluting him with my middle finger.

  “Cut the shit, kids,” Dad orders through a laugh before pulling my arm around his. “It’s time to get this party started.”

  He leads me out the door, and the others follow. I can feel Mom tugging on my dress as Bethany rearranges a loose curl on the back of my neck. “Give it up, guys. If I’m not ready now, I’ll never be.”

  “You look fine,” Jamie says as he stomps past.

  If anyone else had said that I look fine today, I would’ve laid them out, but that was one of the best compliments my brother has ever given me. It’s not that Jamie is rude; he just isn’t much for the mushy stuff. He’s fine with telling me I did an amazing job on rebuilding the engine on whatever car we’re working on that week, but giving me a real compliment, that was like pulling teeth for him. “Thanks, bro.”