by Blake Wilder
We could fuck until the cows came home. But first…
“So you agree to my demands?” I asked.
She studied my face in silence for a long moment. Long enough I thought she was going to say no. “I don’t understand your demands. Aren’t you the poster child for one-night stands?”
“I like fucking you, Charley. I think we’re pretty good at it.” As I spoke, I stroked her clit, then I pushed three fingers inside her. She was tight and I could tell I was stretching her.
“Oh God,” she said, all air, no sound.
“We’re really fucking good at this.”
She closed her eyes. “Harder.”
I pressed deeper. No woman had ever made me so hard, so horny…so desperate to fuck.
“Say yes,” I insisted. “Tell me you’ll give me what I want and I’ll fuck you so hard, you’ll see stars.”
“Yes,” she replied.
I paused, my fingers lodged deep. “Open your eyes, Charley. Look at me.”
She blinked a few times before she managed to focus.
“Say yes again. Because I’m going to hold you to it.”
She held my gaze, her gorgeous green eyes locked with mine. I saw something there I didn’t fully recognize, something that flashed then vanished.
“Yes.”
A single word had never sounded more beautiful.
I pulled my fingers free of her clenching pussy, shifted until I was between her outstretched thighs, positioned my cock, and drove home.
No home had ever felt sweeter.
And as I pounded into her, I started to fear I’d never want to leave home again.
Ten
Charley
I’d parked my car at the airport before what I had expected would be an uneventful, painful trip to Vegas. Instead, I’d gotten drunk and married. To Alex, a man who’d never been in love, who’d sworn to die a bachelor.
Today was supposed to be the first day of the rest of my life.
Not...whatever the fuck this was.
Alex had changed his ticket, then somehow, he’d miraculously managed to upgrade both of us to first class.
By doing so, he’d ensured we didn’t have to talk to Bella on the flight home. She and Josh had been in business class, and I could almost imagine her burning a hole through the curtain that separated the two cabins, dying to know what had happened between me and her brother last night.
Alex and I had stayed in bed way too long this morning, which meant we were the last two to board the plane before the doors closed. I’d caught just a glimpse of Bella before we took our seats and the flight attendant instructed us to fasten our seatbelts for takeoff.
I had hoped to use the flight time to nail down a few of the fuzzier details of Alex’s bizarre demands, but the fucker had ordered us both cocktails—hair of the dog and all that—and fifteen minutes later, I’d fallen sound asleep until the plane landed in Wisconsin.
Alex had us off the plane and our luggage claimed before Bella could catch up to us. No doubt, he was as anxious to avoid her as I was. That point was proven as we climbed into my car and his phone buzzed, for the tenth time since we landed. He’d looked at the screen the first couple of times. Now he didn’t even bother to take his cell out of his pocket.
Then my phone buzzed.
Nope. Not looking.
What the hell was I going to say to her? How could I tell her I’d gotten tequila-wasted and married her brother on a lark?
As we pulled out of the airport parking lot, Alex turned to me. “So where do we live?”
I flashed him a dirty look. “I have an apartment on Hamilton Drive. Your parents—and your room—are still on Hollingsworth Street.”
He chuckled as if I’d made a joke. “I’m not staying with my parents this trip, wifey. It’s our honeymoon, remember?”
“I thought you were coming back to Wisconsin to see your family.”
“I’m sure we’ll see them quite a bit this week.”
Okay. It was clearly time we hammered out some of the details of this so-called honeymoon. “We?”
“You and me,” he said, as if that explained it all.
“I see your parents all the time. I still live here, remember? What I’m asking is…how are we both going to see them this time? As old friends or…” Fuck. I didn’t even know how to say the words.
After all, the words “married couple” when spoken in relation to me and Alex felt like a completely foreign concept.
One that also felt entirely too good.
“You want to know if we’re telling people we got married?”
I started to nod, then shook my head. No. That wasn’t my question.
Ever since we’d woken up this morning, Alex had made a lot of demands. And while I hadn’t had a problem with him demanding that I come that third time, I decided it was high time I issued a few of my own.
“No. That’s not what I’m asking. Because we’re not telling them that.”
Alex looked as if he wanted to argue that point with me, but I wasn’t about to budge.
“I mean it. If you want to stay with me, cool. I honestly don’t give a shit if people think we hooked up in Vegas and decided to keep the affair going, but there’s no way I’m telling our family and friends we got married.”
“Charley,” he started.
“I’m not debating this. For one thing, even if we said it was just a joke, our mothers would ignore that fact, lose their minds, demand we plan some big-ass party to celebrate and nag us to start having babies right away. Your mom might be a grandmother already, but I’m an only child and my mother’s grand-maternal instincts are very, very strong. They’re banked at the moment, but I promise you, you do not want to trigger them.”
Alex feigned a wince. “I hadn’t considered that.”
“And that’s only one of the reasons. I’ve been single one red-hot minute. Ben dumped me for Beverly and everybody in town knows it. While everyone will joke and kid with you about the impromptu, drunken elopement, saying ‘guys will be guys’ and all that bullshit, you better believe they’ll be looking at me differently, and I’m not about to have everyone start calling me Poor Charley, the girl who got dumped twice in one week.”
“Charley—”
I wasn’t finished. “And another thing, there’s no ‘eventually’ to the end of this mist-thing.” I stopped myself just before calling it a mistake, recalling Alex’s earlier threat. “At the most, we’re doing the week here in Wisconsin and the week in Baltimore. After that, we sign whatever papers your lawyer draws up to set things in motion on the annulment. Our little secret. Forever.”
“What do you mean ‘at the most’?”
“I mean…” I stumbled. I didn’t want to say what I meant. Because saying it would pretty much guarantee the whole thing would end here.
Spending another two weeks with Alex was certain to wreck me. One night in and I was pretty overwhelmed by all the feelings he was sparking in me. I wanted to chalk it up to rebound sex, but the truth was…I’d been half in love with Alex before he even knocked on my hotel door. It was crazy, but after three years, Ben had done little more than wound my pride. I didn’t doubt for a second that two weeks with Alex would completely shatter my heart.
And while confessing that to the commitment-phobe Alex was probably the wiser course of action—because he’d definitely run for the hills—I wasn’t ready to give him up yet. Alex might not have a clue how to fall in love, but I had no problem in that area.
So instead, I lied.
“I’m just saying…if we get bored before then, we’ll call it quits earlier. You can take one of your Barbie dolls to the charity event.”
He didn’t reply immediately, and for a second, I was afraid he was going to press me on my answer. It was pretty clear he didn’t believe the “get bored” excuse.
“You done?” he asked.
I caught a glimpse of his grin and rolled my eyes, perfectly aware that I’d been ranting a bit.
>
“Yeah. I’m done.”
“Fine,” he said. “I agree. We’ll let everyone believe we’re just hooking up. We won’t tell them about eloping.”
“Thanks.”
We were quiet for a few minutes, then we hit the outskirts of town and the conversation became a walk down memory lane as we recalled spending Friday nights after the high school football games at Frenchie’s, the ice cream parlor we’d just driven past.
Then we rehashed our finest moments on the ice, both of us marveling at the improvements that had been made to Max’s Ice Rink, thanks, of course, to some very generous donations from Alex.
“Here we are,” I said, pulling into the parking lot of my apartment complex.
Alex grabbed our suitcases from the trunk, following me inside. Ben and I had shared this apartment on the second floor until three days ago.
As I unlocked the door, I turned to Alex. “I should warn you. A lot of Ben’s stuff is still here. He only packed a bag the night…we split. With the wedding, there just hasn’t been time for him to move out the rest.”
“That’s no problem,” he said as we stepped inside. “I’ll help you relocate all of it to that dumpster we just walked by outside.”
I laughed. “Sounds like a plan. Come on. I’ll show you around.” We walked through my apartment as I pointed out the living room, kitchen, and dining room. He stopped to study the framed pictures of my book covers that decorated the walls of my office.
“So that’s Tomboy Tess. She looks like you.”
I had begged the publisher not to do that when the original artwork appeared. Apparently, the artist thought it would be cute to mimic my look, even going so far as to give Tess short red hair and green eyes. Which didn’t help me try to perpetuate the lie that Tess was only loosely based on me as a girl. That was actually one of the reasons I’d conceded on which sport Tess played. It gave me at least one argument whenever friends and neighbors pointed out how sweet it was that I’d included Alex and Bella and other characters they decided were representative of a local person…like my third-grade teacher, the town pediatrician, and my 8U hockey coach.
I really needed to move away.
“A little,” I said, walking away from the display in hopes that he’d follow me and stop looking at my childhood exhibited on book covers.
We walked down the hallway and I pointed out the closet that contained the washer and dryer and the bathroom, then my bedroom.
I hurried ahead of him, trying to pick up the dirty clothes strewn around the floor and hanging over a chair. “Sorry for the mess. I’m not a very efficient packer.”
Of course, it hadn’t helped that at the time I was anticipating spending a very long, horrible evening with my ex and the woman he cheated on me with. Which meant I’d spent way too long agonizing over which outfits I looked amazing in so that no one would make comparisons between me and Beverly and think “no wonder he left Charley for her.”
“It’s a really nice place, Charley. Homey.”
I’d felt the same way. Until a few nights ago. Now…it was hard to be here without remembering the three years of my life I’d just wasted.
We took a few minutes to unpack our stuff. I cleared out a drawer for him in the dresser, tossing Ben’s T-shirts into a pile in the corner of the room. Then we put his toiletries in the bathroom. I stripped off my jeans, shrugging on my comfy yoga pants, and Alex followed suit, trading his jeans for a loose pair of cargo shorts.
It was early evening and we’d both slept through the food service on the flight.
“Want to order a pizza with everything?” I asked. “I’ve got PBR in the fridge. We could watch a movie or…” I paused, stopping myself just in time.
Or so I thought.
“You want to watch the game?”
I grinned. “No. I mean…only if you do? We can root against Isaacson and make fun of what a shitty player he is.”
Isaacson was the captain of the team that had defeated Baltimore in game seven and a huge prick as far as I could tell. Tonight was the first game of the Stanley Cup finals.
Alex nodded. “I could go for that. But if they start winning, we turn it off and go down on each other instead.”
“Or,” I drawled. “We could just skip ahead to that. It occurs to me that hockey is seriously overrated.”
Alex wrapped his arm around my neck, playfully messing up my hair as I tried to bat his hands away. “Is that right? You do realize I make ten million a year playing that overrated game.”
“Which means pizza is on you,” I said, holding out my hand. “Give me your credit card.”
I was surprised when he pulled his wallet out and handed it to me, especially after the alimony comment I’d made earlier. I could only imagine how many women were interested in him simply because of the number of zeros after that ten on his contract.
“Come on,” I said, grabbing my cell off the kitchen counter where I’d tossed it earlier. “Why don’t you grab us both a beer. I’ll order the—”
Alex glanced over my shoulder to see why I stopped talking. “Damn.” He pulled his cell out of his back pocket and flashed the screen at me. “She’s relentless.”
We both had nearly twenty texts each from Bella, who obviously wasn’t going to give up.
“Rock, paper, scissors?” I suggested.
He nodded. “One, two, three. Fuck.” He grimaced when my paper covered his rock. “Two out of three?”
“Nope. You call your sister. I’ll call for pizza.” I waved his credit card in the air. “I’m the big winner tonight.”
“I hate losing.”
I kissed him on the cheek. “I know. But if you’re going to stay here, you’ll have to get used to it.”
He snickered and pinched my ass.
I quickly called to order the food, trying to answer the questions about toppings and give my address and card number, while listening to Alex’s explanation to Bella at the same time. Once dinner was ordered, I hung up, leaning against the kitchen counter, not bothering to hide the fact I was eavesdropping.
Alex had remained true to his word, not telling her about our drunken elopement. I could only imagine she was giving him quite an earful when he went quiet after telling her that he was staying at my place this week.
“Can you tell Mom and Dad that I’m beat, and I’ll stop by tomorrow to take them out for lunch?” He sighed in response to something his sister said. “Fine. You can come too. But I’m warning you right now, I’m going to bail if you and Mom start ganging up on me about Charley. Actually, scratch that.” He looked at me. “What you doing tomorrow?”
I shook my head vehemently, waving my fingers in front of my throat in a “cut” way.
“Good news,” he said to his sister. “Charley’s going to join us.”
I threw my head back and groaned. While I had no problem tossing him into the lion’s den, aka his family, I wasn’t a brave enough person to join him there.
“See you tomorrow, sis.” He hung up and placed his cell on the counter.
“You’re a dick,” I muttered.
“Nope. Just a sore loser.” He turned to open the fridge, grabbing both of us a beer. “Come on. Game’s probably already started.”
I flipped on the game, the two of us sprawled out on opposite ends of my couch. Neither of us was passive hockey viewers. Mercifully, Isaacson was having the worst game of his career, which only ensured we had a blast.
One beer turned to three. The pizza arrived, the two of us devouring the whole thing before the third period even started.
Alex reached for my bare feet, absent-mindedly rubbing them, while cursing the ref for a shitty call.
Watching hockey with Alex probably only came in second to having sex with him. He knew all sorts of behind-the-scenes secrets and scandals about the players and the owners.
He pointed to the TV when two players started brawling. “Shit, man. Johannsen’s gonna be sorry he threw off those gloves. Marconi has a left hook
that’ll clean your clock.”
“You’re ruining me for hockey,” I admitted.
“What?”
“How the hell am I supposed to watch it after sitting here with you? You know everything. I mean, dammit, I love the game, but you take it next level.”
Alex snorted. “You know what’s funny? I was just sitting here thinking the same thing about you. I mean my family enjoys the sport, but they don’t live and breathe it the way we do.”
I nodded. Understanding completely. “I totally get that. Ben and I used to watch it together. And while I’m sure he was into it, he didn’t love it, didn’t get swept away by it like I did. I think it’s because we grew up playing hockey. We know what it feels like to be on that ice, racing along the smooth surface, dodging the other guys, and when you take that swing, when you know it’s going in the second the puck connects with your stick—”
“It’s magic,” he finished.
“Yeah.”
“When was the last time you were on the ice?”
“I try to hit the rink every day—skating is the only exercise routine I can commit to—but I haven’t played hockey since…God, I can’t remember when.”
“You still got your gear?” he asked.
I gave him a look that screamed seriously? “Who the fuck gets rid of their gear?”
“Quitters, that’s who.” He grinned. “I’m gonna call Max tomorrow. See if I can reserve the rink for an hour or two. You up for a little one-on-one?”
“Yeah. But be warned, I’m checking you if you get in my way.”
“Is there any other way to play?”
“You’re on.”
My feet were still in Alex’s lap, something he used to his advantage as he pulled me toward him until I was flat on my back on the couch. He tugged at my yoga pants, drawing them all the way off and tossing them on the floor.
“Did we finally get to the ‘going down’ phase of the night?” I asked.
“You’re a sex maniac,” he teased, twisting between my legs, running his tongue along my slit.
“Is that a complaint?” I asked, my voice suddenly breathless.