The Marriage Dare

Monica shivers, but there’s a small smile on her face. “Drive fast,” she says.

10

Monica

I never knew that I could hate traffic this fucking much. All I want is to be back in the hotel with Daniel letting him peel me out of my clothes so he can finally do what I’ve been dreaming about. I sneak a peek down at my finger again.

Married. I just got married. That’s insane, and yet it’s not.

I knew the second that Daniel punched Martin in the face that that was it. I wasn’t exaggerating to him that no one has ever stood up for me. Everything was always my fault. With him. With my parents. With the people I was trying to get jobs with. It didn’t matter what it was. It was my fault. End of story.

I remember time and time again when a teacher blamed me for something, my parents never listened to my side of the story. If there was a bad story in the news about me, that was my fault. If something went wrong for Martin, it was somehow my fault. I never really understood why no one thought to check or ask if it wasn’t.

Until Daniel.

I felt sick, seeing Martin. I thought that this was over, that Daniel would listen to him and suddenly it felt like all the hope in the world had disappeared. Until he threw that punch. I don’t think he’ll ever know how much it meant to me, as fucked up as it is to love someone for punching someone else. I freeze internally, and look down at my ring again.

Is it possible that I love my husband?

It might be. I don’t want to admit that because it feels too fast and too big and the circumstances of getting here too awful and strange.

But I might.

Finally, we pull into the garage and Daniel practically springs out of the car. He tosses the keys to Jack, and pulls me close against his body as we walk. We’re moving fast, but not fast enough to avoid the swarm of reporters just inside the casino. Daniel isn’t deterred in the slightest. He pulls me through them with Devon on our heels, and I don’t even bother to hide my face. They got plenty of pictures earlier, and everyone is already going to know.

It doesn’t bother me as much anymore, because I know that Daniel isn’t going to blame me for whatever they say. It will be awful things, for sure. But we can worry about it later.

Devon stands in front of the elevator doors as they close on us, blocking the photographers from joining us. They disappear into silence, and neither of us can wait anymore. Daniel has me up against the elevator wall in a second, kissing me like he might die if he doesn’t. I might die if he doesn’t. I moan into his mouth, and my tongue dances with his. I spent all last night breathless and panting, dreaming of him. I want everything that he can possibly give me.

“You remember the rules?” he asks.

“You’re really going to make me beg you to fuck me, Daniel? We just got married.”

He pulls my shirt to the side and bites my shoulder, gently, but hard enough to send tingles downward. I’m already wet, and I want him to bite me again. Bite me everywhere.

“I want to hear my wife beg me to fill her pussy with my cock. I want to hear her begging to suck it. To taste me. So desperate to come that she’ll do anything for it.”

“Fuck,” I barely can speak before he’s devouring me again, and when the door opens into our suite, we collapse inside. Clothes are flying, and I can’t get to his room or my panties off fast enough. Suddenly we’re at the door and I’m naked and he’s naked and holy God he’s beautiful. This is the first time I’ve seen him without clothes, and I was right about one thing—he’s not the Daniel I remember from high school. Every inch of him is hard and sculpted, and for one breathless moment, we stare at each other, before he has me in his arms, carrying me to the bed. He’s so big, and I love that he’s everywhere, pinning me down with his weight, stroking and kissing and teasing me until I’m thoroughly surrounded underneath him.

Daniel places one hand on my chest, and moves to straddle my torso. My hands fall on his thighs, marveling at how even this part of him is toned and muscular. And his cock…that’s right in front of me. So close. Rigid and extending toward my mouth like a beacon. I want him to take me again, fucking my throat and then my pussy. The way he’s looking at me—utterly filled with lust and possessive fire—makes me squirm, pressing my thighs together to relieve the ache between them.