The Bad Boy's Bride

I want her to be my wife. Not by a half-measure or dancing around each other. My actual wife.

A future spins out in my head. Rachel staying here on the ranch with me, starting a true family so that the ranch will be passed down for even more generations. Outgrowing Roscoe House and building a new one out on the bluff that overlooks the entire property. And in that vision there’s so much of her. Of her wild hair and her smile and nights filled with panting and desperate passion.

My beautiful wife.

But is that something that she wants? I still don’t know why she’s really here. I don’t quite buy the reasoning that she’s here on a vacation. It doesn’t add up. But I’m hesitant to ask. I don’t want that vision in my head to shatter.

But at the same time, if it’s going to fall to pieces, it’s better that it does it sooner rather than later, so I don’t have to grieve it.

The house is quiet, and the guest room door is shut. I leave her suitcase and bag by her door and head into my bedroom for a shower. The bed is still a mess, and Rachel’s clothes are still scattered across the floor. So she’s definitely here. Is she all right?

I rush through a shower, tossing on new clothes that aren’t drenched in sweat and smeared with paint. When I step into the hallway, her bags are still by the door.

Knocking softly, I don’t hear anything. There’s an unsettled panic in my gut, and I open the door to make sure that she’s all right.

She’s there all right, sprawled across the bed in nothing but a towel, asleep. I lose my grip on the door at the sight, and my hand keeps going, bumping into the wall. Rachel startles awake, sitting up and gasping, and then groaning. Her face contorts in pain. “Fuck.”

I chuckle even though I’m sure she doesn’t find it remotely funny. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

She blinks. “What time is it?”

“Dinner time.”

“Shit, I didn’t mean to sleep that long.”

I fight off my grin, loving the idea that I fucked her into exhaustion. “Lay back down,” I tell her. “I’ll help you with the stiffness.”

Slipping back into my room for a moment, I grab the small tub of salve that I use for aches and pains. It’s menthol and goes deep. It’ll help her get moving again, especially after today. On gut instinct, I take off the t-shirt that I’d put on, and toss it on the bed.

When I get back to her room, she’s lying face down under the towel, head tucked into her pillow. I could get lost in the way her hair is flying across the sheets and across her back.

She feels the bed shift when I sit next to her. “Is it always this painful?”

“For first timers, yes. It gets better though as your muscles get used to it.”

Rachel laughs, voice muffled by the pillow. “Sounds a little bit like losing your virginity.”

That makes me truly laugh, the sound echoing off the walls. “Yeah, I guess so.” I unscrew the cap of the jar. “This morning everything was fast, and I know that we have a lot to talk about. I want to make sure that everything between us is what you want. This is a cream that will help with the pain, but I’ll have to touch you.”

She stiffens, but doesn’t lift her head. My hand is practically aching with the need to reach out and stroke down her legs, but I don’t move. Finally she turns her head toward me, mouth visible below the mane of hair. “Do you want to touch me?”

“Very much,” I say. There’s no hiding the rawness in my voice.

Rachel lets out a shuddering breath. “Good. Touch away.”

I start gently with the back of her legs, dabbing on the cream and smoothing the skin and digging into the muscles . I slowly move up to the edge of the towel, and even though I’ve already seen her perfect ass, I want to see more. I want to see everything.

Rubbing my hands between her thighs, I work the muscles there, knowing that those will be the sorest. I try and fail to ignore the heat coming from her pussy. We need to take this slow.

“You all right with me moving the towel?”

She doesn’t answer me, instead she pulls it off herself and tosses it off the bed. Slowly, so slowly, I massage her ass, watching her breath deepen and listening to her groan as I work in the cream and hit the sore spots.

Rachel’s hands dig into the comforter, and I’d much rather they be grabbing the sheets for an entirely different reason. Up her back, stroking my fingers along her ribs and up to her neck where I brush her hair away. I’m almost stretched out completely over her again, just like this morning.