Fake Marriage Box Set

That was all it took to send me into the black abyss of one of the most amazing orgasms I had ever experienced. My body arched and attempted to pull away, but his hand on my belly held me firmly in place. My free hand grabbed the small bar on the shower wall, and I held on for dear life as my legs shook with sheer pleasure.

Once I was able to see clearly again, I stood, one hand still on the wall of the shower, holding my body weight.

“You okay,” he whispered in my ear with concern.

I nodded, I couldn’t speak.

He turned me around and kissed away the tears I didn’t realize were streaming down my face. The climax had been so powerful I had felt it to my very core. Being with him was unlike any other sexual experience I had in the past. He demanded every part of me. We touched on an entirely different level, as if our very souls were experiencing the ecstasy of the earth-shattering sex between us.

“That was amazing,” I told him, wanting to assure him I wasn’t actually upset.

He nodded, and kissed the tip of my nose. “It was. You’re beautiful, Tessa, absolutely fucking gorgeous.”

I felt foolish. “I’m sorry. The tears, I don’t know. It wasn’t you or anything—I don’t know,” I blurted out, not able to explain what happened.

“It’s okay, I get it. I do, really,” he said, gently kissing my lips.

I stood there, letting him wash me before he attended to himself. The water went from hot to warm to an icy cold.

“Go!” he yelled, laughing as the water hit him on the backside.

I started giggling and pushed the door open. I stood there, naked, dripping water on his bathroom floor. He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around me before grabbing another one for himself. He quickly dried his hair and then wrapped it around his body.

“Hungry?” he asked, leading the way out of the bathroom.

“I am, but I would be more interested in a cup of coffee. Please tell me you have coffee?”

He rolled his eyes. “Duh. Who doesn’t have coffee?”

We walked into his bedroom, where he picked up my thong and handed it to me before going to his chest of drawers and pulling out another one of his t-shirts.

“Here,” he said, handing it to me. “Put this on, and I’ll get the coffee started.”

I did as he asked and met him in the kitchen, taking a seat at the small bar that divided the kitchen and dining room. Something was wrong. I could tell by the way he was moving—and not meeting my eyes.

Had I freaked him out with my post-coital crying?

He sat down next to me. I could feel something big coming and did what I could to brace myself. It was over. It was over before it ever got started.

“I need to tell you something,” he started, and I cringed.

Nodding, my throat was closing up, knowing what was coming. I refused to cry. I swallowed the lump that felt as big as a golf ball in my throat.

He put a hand on my knee. “Not that. No. Definitely not that.”

“Okay, then what? Do you have a terminal disease? Are you really still married? What?” My mind whirred trying to guess what had him so visibly upset.

“It’s about Miriam.” When I flinched, leaning back and away from him, he squeezed my knee. “Please, I need to get this out.”

“I’m sorry, go ahead, just tell me.”

He exhaled a long breath. “I asked her to marry me because she got pregnant after we had a brief fling. I was young, barely out of college and a little wild at the time. She got pregnant and threatened to keep the baby from me if I didn’t marry her. So, we got married. It wasn’t a happy marriage, but I tried. She tried.”

“I’m sorry,” I muttered, feeling a little bad for him.

He gave a wan smile. “That wasn’t the worst of it. About six months after Ally was born, Miriam and I got into a horrible fight. She told me that Ally wasn’t mine. I thought she was lying but did a DNA test. Ally wasn’t mine. By the time I found out this baby girl I had loved with every fiber of my being wasn’t mine, I was too attached. I couldn’t divorce Miriam then because I would never see Ally again, so we stayed married.”

“Wow,” I muttered, not sure what else to say.