Picture Perfect Marriage

by Marquita Valentine

  I move restlessly above him, craving more. He renews his efforts, the stubble on his chin an added layer of pleasure.

  Tate makes a noise of appreciation and exhales, like he’s finally getting what he wants. He goes back to my clit, lightly scraping at it with his teeth.

  My stomach clenches.

  Nerves tingle.

  My body flushes hot.

  I palm my breasts, lightly squeezing and pinching my nipples.

  Another groan rips from him. When I glance down, I see him gazing up at me. “Do you like that?”

  He nods. “You know I do. Now come all over my face, wild child.”

  My thighs quiver as he renews his efforts. As I push against his arms that are holding me in place, but he won’t give me an inch.

  The first time we ever did this was the first I ever had a guy go down on me, so I was terrified he would suffocate. Tate assured me that even if it was possible, he’d consider it a good way to go.

  “I can breathe just fine,” he mumbles against me, and I laugh helplessly until it turns into a moan.

  Pressure builds and builds, until it’s centered to where he is licking and sucking, teasing and scraping. Another swipe of his tongue and I explode, screaming his name. My hands go to his head to hold him in place. I grab handfuls of his hair and ride his face while he continues to lick and nuzzle until I’m practically boneless.

  Without breaking contact, he flips me onto my back. His long arm reaches out to open my bedside table drawer. “I know I’ve been faithful to you. Always have. Always will be. And I know you have been to me as well.”

  I give him a confused look. “Then why the condom?” It wasn’t like he didn’t know I was on the pill.

  “Because I want to be able to last longer than two thrusts.” He grabs a condom from the pack that I keep in there. “Remember why we got them?”

  “It’s a variety pack.” I giggle. “Remember when we tried the ‘for her pleasure’ tickler one?”

  “The worst,” he says, ripping open the square and rolling it down his length. “It wasn’t for anyone’s pleasure. Least of all yours.”

  “That’s because it took eight years to get the thing on you!” I roll my hips against him, feeling how hard and thick and hot he is against me. “They should make these in extra, extra-large for you.”

  “You are so damn good for my ego.” He settles between my thighs, his weight welcome as he drinks me in. He brushes back my hair with his thumbs. “You look good with mermaid hair. Guess you’re not really a pirate after all, but a siren.”

  “I missed this.” I lean up, kissing him and tasting myself on his lips and tongue. “I missed you.”

  He nudges his erection against my inner thigh. “So did I.” With one long, insistent thrust, he pushes inside of me until I’m filled to the brim. His eyes close in pleasure, his mouth parting on a harsh exhale. “Damn, wild child. Damn.”

  I slide my legs against his, even as my body shivers with excitement. “If you move, I’ll feel even better.”

  He nods. “I’m afraid I won’t last long.”

  “Don’t care.” I kiss the corner of his mouth, and his eyes open.

  “You know I love you.”

  My heart swells, but I can’t say the words back to him, no matter how much my heart is screaming at me. “You’re supposed to say that before you get in my pants.”

  “When have I ever done things the conventional way?” Suddenly, Tate is on his knees, pulling me with him so he stays so deep inside until I straddle him. His hands go to my ass, grabbing a cheek and digging his fingers in. “Ride me again, but this time, you’re going to come all over my cock.”

  Unable to deny him, I begin to move. My hips rocking and my breasts bouncing with the movements, until he dips his head slightly and tugs a hard nipple into his mouth. My hips shoot forward, sending him deeper as my head falls back.

  One of his hands leaves my ass to grab my hair, winding it to the point of pain. But the pleasure he’s giving me makes it worth it.

  “Rub yourself,” he orders before tugging on my other nipple.

  I reach between us, rubbing the swollen bundle of nerves. “Oh, God.”

  He bites on the tip of my nipple. “So damn hot watching you do this. Use my dick to make you come. It’s yours.”

  I grind down on him.

  He punches his hips up to meet me.

  Sweat clings to us, making the room seem as hot and humid as an August afternoon. I capture his mouth with mine, kissing him with a fierceness I never have before.

  But I’ve never been separated from Tate before, not like we were and not under circumstances of rage, grief, and guilt.

  “Can’t wait much longer,” he bites out, teeth bared.

  “Then don’t.” I twist my hips, sliding a finger inside of myself to join his erection.

  His eyes widen. “Holy shit.” He bites down on his bottom lip. “I’m going to come.”

  I rub my clit harder. “Me, too.”

  Tate growls my name.

  A scream bursts from me.

  We explode together, his hands no longer gripping my ass or tangled up in my hair. They’re on my hips, guiding me, forcing me to stay in place while he pistons into me. With a harsh breath, he slumps a little, his movements slowing even as my heart pounds against my chest.

  Fiercely, he catches my eyes. “I’m your husband. Say it.”

  “You’re my husband.” I can’t deny him anything in this moment.

  “We’re staying married. Say it.”

  “We’re staying married.” Then again, can either of us be held responsible for what we say before, during, or after sex?

  “We made love, Quinn.” He repositions us until we’re stretched out on the bed, facing each other. He makes no move to leave me, not even to get rid of the condom on his semi-erect penis. “If I have to do this every day to make you say the words, I will. No matter how long it takes.”

  I caress his face, not at all offended by him. In fact, I completely understand. He wants me to bend to him completely, something he’s never ever demanded I do before. “I’m hoping that next time, it takes a lot longer.”

  He bursts out laughing. “You got two orgasms to my one.”

  “Quality over quantity,” I remind him.

  A dark look enters his eyes, making me shiver. He rips off the condom, neatly ties it, and tosses it in the trash can by the dresser. “Is that a challenge?”

  “More like a statement.” I wriggle my fingers at him. “These were no match for your tongue.”

  He pounces on me. “This time, wild child, I’m fucking you until you beg for mercy.”

  His raw words make me shiver in pleasure. It’s not often that this side of Tate comes out. “Promises. Promises.”

  Then I hold him to it. And I do, in fact, end up begging for mercy...

  And it’s the best thing ever.

  Chapter 15

  Tate

  “I didn’t mean to wake you,” I whisper, pulling the covers up to Quinn’s shoulders. There’s a love bite on her one of her breasts, courtesy of me and my promise to fuck her until she begged for mercy. She ended up begging with her mouth around my cock. How could I say no to that? “Go back to sleep. I only wanted to kiss you good-bye.”

  She blinks up at me, grey eyes soft as a spring rain. Dark blue and purple hair fan across a white pillowcase—my pirate queen siren. “You didn’t wake me. I want to drive you back to your place, then to the airport.”

  I smile. Leaning down to kiss her properly, I take a few hot seconds to get lost in her before I straighten. “If you’re willing, then I’m not going to stop you.”

  She pushes the covers off, revealing her lithe body. I swallow hard at the sight. “Seeing you like this never gets old.”

  With a confidence I find sexy as hell, she parades across the bedroom, putting a little wiggle in her step as she enters the bathroom. “That’s because I’ve ruined you for all other women.” She closes the door.r />
  I wait for her to open it back, crossing the small distance between us as soon as she does, watching as she washes her hands, face, and brushes her teeth. “It’s been three years, two months, and twenty... six days since you first ruined me.”

  Her dark brows shoot up. “You remember the date?”

  “Maybe.” My cheeks heat, but what the hell. I need to own up to it. Lies have no business in our marriage. “Yeah, I do, but don’t hold it against me.”

  She stares at me, wonder in her gaze. “Why in the world would I hold something so romantic against you?”

  I shrug. “It’s not very manly, I guess.”

  “It’s very sexy.” She dries her face and approaches me, still nude as she wraps her arms around me. “Every time you confess something like this, I have to give thanks to your aunts for raising a man who any woman in her right mind would be proud to call hers.”

  It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask her if this means that our thirty-day agreement is over. To see if she means we can tear up the damn papers, but like last night, I can’t fuck up this moment by putting her on the defensive.

  “As long you call me yours, I don’t care about any other woman.”

  “Tate.” She leans her head against me. “I wish we could get back these last four months.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Sometimes I wish we could start over altogether.” She lifts her eyes to mine. “I wouldn’t change the way I feel about you.”

  I guess this is as close as it gets right now for us. “I’m glad to hear it.”

  “How long will you be gone?” she asks.

  “Depending on negotiations, I’m aiming to be back by next Sunday.”

  “That long!”

  I smile. “You’re going to miss me?”

  “I always do,” she says softly.

  “You’re killing me, wild child,” I groan, burying my face in her hair. “If only I’d gotten more warning, you could come with me and get away from here for once.”

  “I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

  “Oh, I’m sure I could think of a few things. “ I caress her shoulders, then reach around to cup her perky breasts. The nipples are hard and swollen, and those damn love bites are sending my lust into overdrive. “You are so damn beautiful.”

  She flushes pink from her head to her toes, literally. I watch the wave of color as it migrates down... down... down.

  “You’re such a big-talking man.” She pushes against me, hitting my erection and gasping. “You’re such a big man, too.”

  “If I didn’t have to leave in the next five minutes, I’d show you how big I am... again. Right over this counter.”

  Her grey eyes darken. “Too bad we’re short on time.”

  “You’re going to have to wait a week to feel me again.”

  This time, she groans my name. “You’re not helping. Now all I want to do is cancel all of my appointments for the week.”

  I nuzzle the side of her throat. “If only....” Letting go of her tempting body, I step away. “Get dressed, wild child. I’ll wait for you downstairs.”

  She eyes my tented jeans. “Are you sure you only have five minutes?”

  I glance at my watch. “No.”

  “In that case—”

  “I only have four minutes.” I smack her ass, eliciting a squeal and a threat to get me back. I can’t stop the smile that pushes up the corners of my mouth. “Promises. Promises.”

  “Don’t use my words against me.” She blows me a kiss, then starts yanking clothes out of dresser drawers.

  I bolt down the stairs, making sure I have everything I need along the way before heading outside to put my things in the back of Quinn’s borrowed Range Rover.

  Earlier, while she was sleeping, I Ubered back to my house and packed up my bag, then bought the Uber driver and me a breakfast of sausage biscuits and Cajun fries from Bojangles—something I sorely miss eating on the West Coast.

  Quinn joins me outside, dressed in white shorts and a white top. I eye it closer, realizing the top and shorts are actually one piece. Whatever fashion it is, she looks good in it.

  “Like my romper?” Sticking her hands in the pockets, she twirls. “It has pockets.”

  “I can see that.” I grin. “What else does it have?”

  “Who cares?” She shrugs. “It has pockets, and that’s all that matters.”

  “If you’re happy, then I’m happy.” I open the driver’s side door for her. She kisses me before she slides inside. “Now I’m really excited about pockets.”

  Quinn rolls her eyes, but her smile is wide. “I would have kissed you with or without my pockets.”

  “Still, I’m making a mental note to buy you all the things with pockets.” I shut her door and hurry to the other side and get in, slinging my seat belt into place as she starts up the SUV. “I need to go to CB’s airport, not Royal Bay International.”

  “You’re flying a puddle jumper back?” she asks.

  “Nah, I ended up booking a private jet. Couldn’t find a flight out at a decent time.”

  “Castle Beach Airport it is.” She burns rubber out of the driveway, and I grab the oh shit handle. “Whoops. It’s too early to drive it like I stole it.”

  “As if you know any other way to drive.” I let go of the handle. “I’d like for you to promise me something.”

  “What’s that?” she asks.

  “To not forget where we are right now. I feel like we’re moving in the right direction, away from all the hurt and pain... and guilt.” I know this woman is carrying so much guilt. It’s what drove a wedge between us. However, it’s just as much my fault because I didn’t come back to help her with that guilt. “I don’t want to come back and have to start at square one again. Or worse, I come back and you want nothing to do with me at all.”

  She doesn’t say anything at first. Instead, she focuses on getting us on the right road to the airport since they started rerouting due to road construction.

  At the next light, Quinn reaches over and grabs my hand. She turns to look at me, her light gaze serious. “I promise not to shut you out. Ever again.”

  My heart cracks and I lean across the console to kiss her, sliding my hand into her loose hair. “I promise to never leave you. Ever again.”

  “This week doesn’t count,” she says, her lips quivering. “Because you’ll be back by Sunday.”

  “Exactly.” I press my forehead lightly against hers. The light has changed to green, but it’s five in the morning on a Monday. There’s no one out and about at this time. “But if I do have to stay longer... I’ll send a plane for you.”

  She smiles. “You’d better.”

  “I swear it.”

  Chapter 16

  Quinn

  It’s almost noon, and I only have a three o-clock left for the day, which means I’ll be finished early, but it feels like I’m in the middle of the longest week ever. On a Monday.

  “Why so glum, pal?” Roxi asks, a twinkle in her eye as we lounge in the front of the salon. She turns the sign to closed, then adds the ‘will return at 1:30’ to it. “Did your bestie leave you high and dry?”

  Yeah, he left me. Left me wondering why I feel so damn anxious.

  Alone.

  Missing him.

  Missing his smile.

  His laugh.

  His... everything.

  It’s just not right. Tate hasn’t even been gone a day, yet my heart feels like it’s been months.

  I won’t share any of that with Roxi, or Campbell for that matter, when I can’t even give my thoughts voice to share with my husband.

  A husband who, for all intents and purposes, doesn’t really exist—publicly at least. I don’t give a crap about what the tabloids print regarding Tate’s love life, or rather, what they think is going on, because it’s always speculation and quotes from insiders who are ‘super close’. Well, if they were so darn close, then they would mention me.

  And they don’t. />
  It suddenly occurs to me that Tate might be the one responsible for that. A sort of protection for me. Rarely do I get social media hate for being photographed with him. Of course, when I do, it makes me want to reply or leave the country.

  “My besties would never leave me high and dry,” I counter, then nod at Campbell. “Right? You’d only leave me for Knight, but since he’s my twin and your husband, I can’t be mad about that.”

  “Stop avoiding the question,” Campbell replies.

  “Knew it was bad business to hire family,” I mutter loud enough for her to hear.

  Will joins us, a smirk on his pretty face. Seriously, he’s as pretty as Taylor Swift’s latest boyfriend, and I’d totally write a song about his gorgeous self, too. “I thought we were your family.”

  “Oh, good Lord. You know what I meant.” Crossing my arms over my chest, I glare at the trio of chuckleheads. “Actually, I’m glum because a third of our appointments for the week have already been cancelled.”

  “Don’t take it personally,” Roxi says.

  I fall into the nearest chair. “How else should I take it?”

  Campbell snorts. “That’s what she sa—”

  “Jar,” I bark at her.

  She puts a dollar in the one labeled The Office References with a smug smile. “Done.”

  Roxi approaches me, moving behind my chair so she can knead my shoulders. “What I mean is that those appointments were directly tied to the rumor that Tate was here to film a movie and the fact that you know him. Personally.”

  “I guess so.” I’m not sure if it’s her logic that’s making sense or if the expert massage skills she’s wielding on me are making me stupid. “Still. They could have—”

  “Nope.” Will grabs a bottle of water from Campbell’s desk, then pops the top. “They weren’t here to be transformed. They were here to get insider deets on Tate, a personal recommendation from you, or hopefully, see the man himself. Word got around that he frequented your salon.”

  “It was one time,” I point out.