Rich Soldier: The Dirty Thirty Pledge Book 2

by Wylder, Penny

  “That,” I say, “I think I’ll be able to do. God.” A thought hits me. “My parents are going to roll their eyes.”

  “But will they be happy?”

  “I hope so,” I say. “Even if they aren’t at first, I’m sure that they’ll come around. My father already seems to like you.”

  “True.” Wallace leans down and plants a kiss on my jaw. “I love you, you know.”

  “I love you, too.”

  Epilogue

  Wallace

  A few weeks later

  There are nerves running through my body, even though I’ve never been as sure as anything else in my life. But I’m standing up in front of a small group of people in a small church and I’m waiting for Tia to come walking down the aisle. I haven’t seen her since yesterday, and it’s absolutely killing me.

  Ever since she said yes, we’ve been practically inseparable. To the point where our friends and family are laughing at us. I was right, Tia’s parents were happy for us. They said that it made sense, and they figured that it might happen someday.

  Ever since starting therapy, the nightmares have been getting better. They’re not gone completely, and the couple of nights that I’ve woken up screaming next to Tia were scary for us both, but lying next to her, I can honestly say that I’m getting the best sleep that I’ve had in years. I’ve never felt more rested or at peace. I can’t wait to keep getting better, now that I’m seeing progress.

  I hear Glenn muttering behind me as I wait, and I turn to shoot him a glare. “Are you complaining again?”

  He rolls his eyes. “No.”

  “Yes,” Frankie says, with a wicked grin. “Absolutely.”

  “It’s just such a waste of potential. Why buckle yourselves down when you could be having the time of your lives? It doesn’t make any sense.”

  I shake my head and glance back up the aisle. “I’m going to bend over laughing when you find your girl, Glenn. She’s going to take you by surprise and suddenly everything that we’re doing is going to make perfect sense. And when that day comes, we’re both going to want an apology from you.”

  “It’s never going to happen,” he mutters under his breath.

  Frankie snorts. “It will. You’ll see.”

  And that’s the end of that because there’s a swell of music and the church doors open to reveal Tia standing there with her father. My heart is pounding in my chest and my eyes are blurry with tears, but I blink them away because I don’t want to miss a second of this.

  She’s stunning. Her dress flows down her body and I don’t think that she’s ever looked more radiant. And she’s mine. After today, I can say that forever, and there’s a piece deep inside of me that’s calm and settled now. I’m home.

  Tia is wearing a veil, but even through it I can see that she’s smiling. My chest feels so full that it’s going to burst and I have to hold myself back from running down the aisle so I can get to her faster. But I can’t look away from her. And when she’s finally here and her hand is finally in mine, I know that I’ll never have to look anywhere else for happiness ever again.

  * * *

  I carry Tia across the threshold of her house, and she laughs. “Thank you for not bumping my head on the door.”

  “I don’t think that would be a very good omen for our marriage if I did that.”

  “Maybe not,” she agrees, as I put her down. We’re both exhausted. It’s been a long day. Even small weddings are weddings, and after the reception, surrounded by friends and family, I’m glad that we made the decision to start our honeymoon tomorrow and spend the night at home tonight . Here. Together. In the home we’ll share until we can build ours together. She built this one, and it’s beautiful, but we always talked about building a house together, and we still want to do that. Take the best bits of both of us and build it together for a place that’s just ours. It’ll be free of the memories that have plagued us and a fresh slate for new and happy memories.

  We’ll start on that as soon as we get back from our honeymoon—a tour around the world that’s going to last a couple of months. For once I’m using the money from First Shot for something that actually feels good and that I don’t feel guilty about.

  We’ll have all the perfect resources to build our house too, since Tia will be taking over her father’s company when we get back. He told her that deciding what she really wanted and taking steps to make it happen was what he’d finally been looking for. It’s the happiest I’ve ever seen Tia, aside from today.

  “I think I could fall asleep right here,” I say, holding her close and leaning my forehead against hers.

  “Me too,” she says. “But there’s no way you’re depriving me of my wedding night.”

  Suddenly I’m very, very awake. And very hard. We’re close enough that she notices and laughs, pulling me along to our bedroom. I tear myself out of my tuxedo, but when I turn, Tia is still in her wedding dress. “Do you need help with that?”

  “I will,” she says, smiling coyly. “First I have other plans.”

  “What—” I break off my words as she sinks to her knees in front of me, white fabric pooling around her like snow. “Tia.”

  She smirks. “What?” she asks in an innocent tone. “You don’t want to see me on my knees in my wedding dress, sucking your cock?”

  There’s officially no blood left in my brain. It’s all flowing south, where I’m painfully hard, and I don’t have any words to speak as she takes the tip of me into her mouth because it’s so unspeakably hot that I can’t move or breathe, let alone speak. Tia is excellent at this, too. She knows exactly what makes me feel good, and she doesn’t hesitate to give it to me.

  She takes me into her mouth, as much as she can, teasing the underside of my head with her tongue and sucking me deep. I’m too big for her to take all of me, but I’ve never cared about that. How can I care when something feels as good as this does? One of her hands teases my balls while she sucks back to the tip of my cock before diving down again.

  The image of her in the dress, her lips wrapped around my shaft smudging it with the same lipstick that I kissed when I said ‘I do,’ is enough to send me to the edge. I’m so hard and so ready that I have to grit my teeth to keep from going over.

  I reach out, tangling my fingers in her hair and guiding her mouth. She’s so good at what she does, but this is what I need. I want to fuck her mouth while she’s in that dress.

  Tia looks up at me, and the crinkles around her eyes tell me that she’d be smiling if her lips weren’t stretched with my cock. I push deeper into her mouth, until I’m at her limit, and then I do it again, and again. Her tongue brushes my shaft and she sucks as I keep her where I want her, fucking her mouth harder, just like I would her pussy. Just like I will her pussy. Fuck, she’s perfect. But I’m not going to have the first time I come on our wedding night be in her mouth. No, I’m going to bury myself deep inside her.

  I pull out of her mouth and bring her to her feet, bending her over the bed. I haul her dress over her ass and fight the urge to sink my teeth into it. Tia has a perfect ass, and I fully intend on taking her there while we’re on our honeymoon. I’ve hinted at it, and she seems like she wants it too. Maybe I’ll remind her.

  Stroking my fingers through her pussy, she gushes over my fingers, soaking wet and ready for me. I peel off the scrap of underwear that she has on under the dress. I lean down and run my wet fingers across her ass, following quickly with my lips and tongue. Tia gasps as I explore that little bud with my mouth, and I smile. “I love your ass, wife,” I say pulling back and lining myself up with her pussy.

  “I know,” she says. “You’ve always been an ass man.”

  I give her a quick swat and she cries out in surprise. “That’s my ass now.”

  “Yes, it is.” Her voice is full of giggles that turn into moans as I sink inside her in one smooth stroke. I’ll never get tired of the feeling of entering her bare. It’s like pushing into the heat of the sun, if that heat were pure
pleasure. And now, with her wedding dress riding up around her hips, I fuck my wife.

  God, I love how those words sound.

  Reaching around her legs, I find Tias’s clit. It’s slick with her arousal, and she groans, “Fuck, yes.” She’s bracing herself on the bed with her arms, legs spread wide so I can have the access I need. This view is one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen.

  We’re going to be lucky, one of those couples that have an absolutely amazing wedding night. It’s going to be one to remember.

  I circle her clit with my fingers and I can see that her legs are shaking. She’s on the verge of going over, and I pull back, slowing my rhythm, and she curses at me. “You’re going to tease me tonight?”

  “I always tease you,” I say.

  She wiggles her ass and squeezes down on my cock in retaliation. “You know,” she says, “if this ass is yours, then that cock is mine.”

  “That’s true.”

  “Then give it to me. Please.”

  Leaning down close, she turns so I can kiss her. “As you wish, wife.”

  I give it to her. I slam in in a relentless rhythm, renewing my movement against her clit, and Tia screams. Her pussy gushes in a burst of wetness, and her back arches as the pleasure takes her. She collapses onto the bed and I follow her, continuing to fuck, because I’m close. I was close when she took me into her mouth, and I’m even closer now. Shit.

  Lightning barrels down my spine and I throw my head back letting the pleasure pour through my veins and out, bursts of ecstasy exploding deep inside of her as I thrust once. Again. And a final time, finally coming to rest as my orgasm passes.

  “Holy shit,” I say, lowering myself onto her.

  She laughs softly. “Yeah.”

  Pushing myself to standing, I pull her with me and unzip the back of her dress. “I think I saw that you were hiding something under here, and I don’t want to let it go to waste,” I say.

  Tia blushes as I let her dress drop to the floor, revealing stunning white lingerie that’s straps and scraps of lace and leaves just enough to the imagination to send blood rushing south again.

  “What do you think?” she asks.

  I pull her against me hard, crushing my mouth with hers, showing her in now uncertain terns what I think of this. But I don’t say that. “I think I love you,” I say. “I’m excited to spend the rest of my life with you.”

  Her blush deepens, and she kisses me again, softer. “I love you.”

  “But,” I say, picking her up and tossing her on the bed, “That’s not going to stop me from ravishing you in tonight.”

  She giggles, and I dive after her onto the bed, turning those gorgeous sounds of laughter into sounds of pleasure.

  * * *

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  * * *

  Entering the grounds of the Green Hills music festival is a little bit like entering a dream. Something that’s so familiar, and yet you can’t quite remember it again until you see it. It hasn’t been as long as it feels, yet I’m still getting some serious déjà vu. In the last few years I’ve been all over the world, to every festival imaginable, scouting talent. I’ve found some amazing people. Artists so good that coming back to scout Green Hills wasn’t high on my list of priorities, but here I am. Back home, surrounded by memories and ghosts.

  If I’m perfectly honest, the festival isn’t why I’m here, even if it’s my excuse. I’m here to see my family, who I haven’t seen in a long time, and to celebrate the five-year anniversary of my company. And right after that is my thirtieth birthday, which my friends have promised to celebrate in style. These are all good things, and while I’m here I can sit through a few mediocre country acts on the off-chance that that there’s a diamond in the rough.

  But there’s always the other side of the coin, that I might confront some things that aren’t as pleasant, and pain that I’d hoped to leave behind for good. My friends bug me about not spending enough time here in town or making appearances at our flagship bar, but it’s hard to be here. Green Hills has a lot of things I left behind. Wounds that never got the closure they needed. I push away those thoughts—I don’t need them chasing me today.

  The drive to the festival grounds is slow because everyone else is heading there too. Even if the festival has dropped off in the last few years, it's still the event of the season for Green Hills, and it still draws its fair share of decent headliners. But the headliners aren’t the reason I’m here. Today is going to be a lot of local acts, my bread and butter. If I can find anyone I can bring back, I’ll be surprised, but I’m always hopeful. Bands or artists with organic roots tend to be better than groups that are put together by labels to fit a particular image. That’s how we’ve found success. I’ve never taken an artist away from what they were meant to be, only encouraged them to be more of what made them great when I found them.

  I’m proud that that’s the legacy Farbell Records has started, and I’m determined to keep it that way.

  There's a huge faded sign over the drive into the grounds, the same peeling green paint that was there when I was a kid, and a teenager, and a college student, and even a few years ago. It’s a part of the festival’s charm, that sign that always greets the crowd as they flock to the grounds.

  There's something beautiful about the way this town never changes, and something a little sad about it too. Once upon a time I had dreams of being a headliner at a festival like this. I played a couple of times on the local nights, but I figured out quickly enough that I wasn’t good enough a musician. I'm much better at guiding people, seeking out talent and making it shine. And that's fine with me. I was never really cut out for fame, and seeing an artist blossom under my guidance is almost as big a rush as getting on stage. It still fulfills that creative itch that I’ve always had, and I’m lucky enough that I can do what I like without the pressure of immediate success. Thank God for First Shot.

  It takes a while to get into the lot where everyone parks, and then to trudge across the muddy field, but once inside the festival grounds it's like you're in another world. Music is everywhere, coming from the main stage and the players at booths promoting local bands. Lights are strung over the walkways, and even in full daylight, the way they're lit up feels like you’re entering someplace new and beautiful. The grounds are spotless and manicured with flowering trees and hedges along the walkways. There’s plenty of room to breathe out here. It never feels crowded, even with crowds of people. I'd love to bring some of the people from my label out here and show them how beautiful this festival can really be. Honestly, I had forgotten. Not all of them appreciate the charm of local music the way I do. I have a feeling that this might change their minds.

  I buy a bottle of water and find a place near the back of the stage where I can lean against the fence and just listen. The whole hat-and-sunglasses routine isn’t something I usually have to worry about, but in Green Hills, people know me. I’m something of a local celebrity, much to my own chagrin. All three of us are: Glenn, Wallace, and me. The guys that started the First Shot bar franchise that’s now all across the country. It’s amazing how well the hat-and-glasses disguise works, though. Only a couple of people glance my way, and they don’t do more than nod in acknowledgement. Nice of them.

  As I listen, the bands that play are okay. There's a group of teens that do a decent country set, and a lot of solo acts—mostly guys with guitars. I imagine I looked a lot like them when I played here. But nothing so far makes my jaw drop or draws me backstage to talk to the artists. That’s okay though, the day is still young and I'm going to do my best not sink into cynicism this early in the day.

  Still, it's hard. The hours drag on, and there's still nothing. When yet another guy with a guitar steps on stage and starts off his set with an off-key version of “Honky Tonk Badonkadonk,” I have to wa
lk away. Food would be good. My stomach is growling and it's well after lunch. Eating something will probably let me survive until the end of the day. Please, gods of music, let there be at least one act worth signing here. Even though I came to Green Hills for personal reasons, no one at the label was excited about me attending the festival. I was hoping to prove them wrong, but I’m going to have to eat some humble pie if I can’t find anyone.

  I stand in line and grab a hot dog, and eat it in way fewer bites than I probably should. Not enough. I look around, and I do a double take, because I thought that I just saw Annabelle in the crowd, red hair swirling in the way that it always used to. It can't be, right? Adrenaline slams through me like a punch in the gut. I was hoping that I wouldn’t see her here, and yet that’s a lie because I was hoping that I would.

  I don't have a choice when I step in that direction—I need to see. It’s been eight years since I’ve seen her, even in the times that I’ve visited. I knew that she was here. Helpful friends and relatives have let me know over the years, but I’ve been careful. I never went anywhere I thought she would be, and people talk enough when I come here that she’d know how to avoid me.

  I wish she wasn’t here, that she moved away from this place and moved on from me and was happier than I ever thought I could make her. I want her to be happy wherever she is, and I should stay away. She made her feelings about me very clear. But fuck that. I want to see her. See her face again and those green eyes, and that red hair that shimmers every time the sun hits it.

  It's going to hurt like hell, but I want to feel it, masochistic as that may be. Running into her has always been a possibility, but somehow it never seemed real until just now. But I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about it on the way to Green Hills. A lot. Her being here would almost feel like I conjured her from thin air.

  Abandoning my disguise, I take off my glasses so that I can get a better look. I keep walking and looking back in the direction of the stage, and I see it again out of the corner of my eye: that flash of red that I'll never forget.