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When I packed up my personal belongings from work, not a single person I worked with wished me good luck, they didn’t throw me a going-away party or even get me a greeting card. Most barely acknowledged me as I walked out of the door. There isn’t a single person in Las Vegas who I’ll ever speak to again. I had no friends, no boyfriend, no friendly work colleagues.
I followed Octy here because she was literally the only thing I have. Now after a week in this town full of crazy family myths and legacies, I have people. I have my person. Somehow, the boy I loathed most in the world, turned out to be the man I’ve fallen in love with. Not even the women in my books fall for their enemies as quickly as I’ve slipped beneath Oscar’s spell. But here I am, married, in love, and maybe pregnant, all in the span of a week.
When the crisp afternoon air is replaced by warmth, I look up and find myself in Oz’s arms as he carries me into the house, closing the door behind us.
His intense, vibrant eyes speak volumes as he lowers me to my feet and silently starts to strip me out of my clothes. Once I’m naked, he divests himself of his own clothes, then lifts me off the ground, pressing my bare back against the wooden door as he encourages me to wrap my legs around his waist.
Holding my weight with one arm, he pushes his hand between us, slipping two fingers into me, while we stare into each other’s eyes, saying so much without a word. My lips part as he carefully fingers me, not trying to make me come but ensuring that my body is ready for him. I’m so wet, he must be able to feel it, but once he’s satisfied, he pulls his fingers from my sex and replaces them with the head of his dick.
“I love you,” he says as he slams into me, filling me with his dick in one harsh thrust.
Cupping my cheek with the hand that’s still damp with my arousal, he forces me to keep my gaze on him while he fucks me with deep, hard thrusts. He’s using my body with single-minded intent, but I can’t feel anything beyond the pleasure he’s forcing upon me and the way his eyes are telling me in a thousand different ways that I’m his. That he owns me, that I belong to him, heart, body, and soul.
When I come, it’s cataclysmic. My heart stops, my lungs freeze, and my life force joins itself with his. I’ve never felt anything this…dominating. It’s like I simply stop existing as a single entity and reemerge into the moment as simply his.
“I love you, I love you, I love you,” he snarls again and again, like he’s bewitching me and enchanting me and cursing me all at the same time.
His thrusts become hurried and erratic as he follows me over the edge, bucking into me until he fills me with his cum, sealing the connection between us and tying us together. If I believed in this town and the mystical properties that seem to be abundant here, then this would be the moment when we made what might be an impossible baby.
Right now, even though he’s pumping me full of his cum, he’s not breeding me, he’s branding me as his, and if I end up with his baby growing inside of me, then this will be the moment that it happens.
18
OZ
She loves me. I wasn’t sure she’d ever feel that way or admit it, but I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve asked her to tell me, simply because I need to hear it.
She loves me.
I don’t know how or why, but she loves me, and even if I never understand it, I’ll accept it and treasure it anyway.
Today we’re hosting a barbecue for my teammates, the families who live on the row, the Barnetts, and all of the Barnetts’ extended families, and I wish we weren’t. Yesterday, we told pretty much everyone we saw that we’d gotten married, simply because Etta was worried about people’s reactions when they learned about our history.
Of course, before we left the house, I sent out texts to everyone we planned to see and warned them that I’d kick all of their fucking asses if they said anything derogatory about the fact that mine and Etta’s parents are married. And because even when I threaten them, the people of Rockhead Point are good people, they all acted like our family’s connection was no big deal.
Seeing Etta with all the Barnett women, like she was a part of the group, made everything worthwhile. I still don’t know all the details of the things I did to Etta when we were kids, but I know one of my most heinous crimes was destroying her relationship with her middle school friends.
Knowing how far reaching the impact of a stupid childish prank had been for her made me feel sick to my stomach. I know I can’t make up for all of my crimes against her in one week, but providing her with a group of wonderful, sweet women who are so openly accepting and understanding about how marriage works when your husband is a possessive, jealous caveman was one thing I could easily do.
Once Octy gets to town, she’ll have more friends than she’ll know what to do with, and I’m glad for that. As much as I don’t want to share her time and attention, I know I’m not the easiest man to deal with, and she’ll need friends to remind her she loves me when I do something to drive her crazy.
Sighing, I brush her hair away from her face and run the tip of my finger along her collarbone. Her tiny frame is so delicate and fragile that I want to both protect and sully her at the same time.
Her lips are a perfect pink rosebud, but I can’t wait to see them stretched around my cock, tears filling her doe eyes as she tries to swallow me whole so I can come down her throat.
Groaning, I silently tell my dick to calm the fuck down. It’s only eight a.m., but even with the guys’ help, it’s still going to take a few hours to get everything set up. If I allow myself to touch her, I won’t be satisfied with a quick taste, and not turning up to a party you’re hosting right outside your front door is definitely bad form.
Dragging my fingers away from her, I keep my hands to myself as I lean in and press a kiss to her lips. “Good morning, wife. It’s time to get up.”
Her whine of protest is the sweetest fucking thing. Slowly, she’s starting to get braver around me. I’m not sure she’ll ever be antagonistic, but I’m enjoying the way she sometimes finds a little attitude behind all of her meekness.
“Little One, we have so much stuff to do today.”
Instead of opening her eyes, she rolls to her back, pushes off the covers and spreads her legs, putting herself entirely on display for me. I don’t know if she’s intentionally offering herself to me or if I’ve conditioned her to assume I’ll need her even before she’s fully awake. Either option makes my dick hard and my heart swell. Trying not to look, I fail miserably, my eyes dropping between her thighs to her pink, puffy pussy.
After I took her against the front door last night, I carried her upstairs and worshipped her body over and over until she passed out, sated and exhausted. The tiny bruises on her hips and the inside of her thighs show me I’ve been too rough with her, but despite her size, she’s proved her body was made to take everything I can give it.
Her pussy lips look a little swollen, and her skin is definitely pinker than normal. But she doesn’t look like she’s hurting, at least not in a bad way. The tiny pussy plug I ordered for her and some of the other things I bought for her are all in boxes in the hallway, but I fight the urge to go and fetch them.
