Bought For Love

I’d been an only child and had lost my parents when I was seventeen. I’d always wanted kids, and, I had to admit, it had definitely crossed my mind that a child would tie us together irrevocably. I’d made sure Julia spelled it out in our contract that I expected us to make a family. To my thinking, the sooner the better. I couldn’t wait to see her round and swollen with our child.

My first priority was to sweep Emma off her feet and make her fall in love with me, but I was definitely looking forward to the baby-making part of my plan.

A knock on the door startled me, and I jumped to my feet, rushing to open it. The priest stood on the other side, and he gestured for me to step out into the hall.

He smiled brightly. “It’s time. Let’s move to the chapel and wait for your bride.”

I hated waiting. I wanted to run to the room where she was supposedly getting ready and drag her to the altar myself. However, I replied with a polite nod and followed the clergyman to the small chapel.

For anyone else, I might have simply planned a small ceremony at city hall. However, I wanted Emma to have what every girl dreams of: her perfect wedding. It seemed like a chance to show her that she was important to me, that I intended to give her everything she could ever want. Except a divorce.

My only stipulation was her weeklong time frame to plan the whole thing, which put a small damper on it, but I wasn’t willing to budge and give her any more time to change her mind. So, I’d hired a wedding planner and sent her to Emma. They’d picked out the old but well-kept church we were in now. It was only an hour outside the city, in a quaint, picturesque little town. There were white and yellow lilies in beautiful arrangements throughout the chapel, a stretch of white linen that led from the door to the altar, and a harpist playing in the corner.

The one thing that was conspicuously absent was guests. I didn’t have any family, and when I offered to bring out hers, she’d said they couldn’t make it because of how busy they were this time of year. All I wanted was to get the wedding over with, so I didn’t press the issue.

Another quick glance at my watch caused a sigh of relief to escape my mouth. The harpist began to play the haunting melody of a romantic Puccini aria, and the back doors opened to reveal my bride.

She was dressed in a simple but elegant silk gown. It wasn’t overly tight, but clung beautifully to her body, flowing down to puddle at her feet. I frowned a little at the sight of her wild hair tamed and twisted up at the back of her head. I loved her hair and couldn’t wait to sink my hands in it as I buried my cock inside her.

Despite her rigid hairstyle, she took my breath away. She smiled shyly at me as she walked forward, causing her dimples to punch deep into her cheeks. I took a step toward her but stopped when I felt a small tap on my shoulder. I looked behind me to see the priest holding in a laugh and shaking his head. “Patience, Miles. She’ll be here any second.”

I took a deep breath and remained still, which was no small feat as, in my opinion, Emma was taking her sweet time getting her pretty little ass to the altar.

When she finally reached me, I took her hand and gently pulled her right up next to me. Slipping my arm around her waist, I kept her anchored to my side as I nodded at the priest to begin.

Emma’s body shook with tiny tremors, and when I lowered my head to look into her emerald eyes, they were filled with a mixture of trepidation and determination. I gave her my most charming smile and squeezed her hand reassuringly to try to set her at ease. The trepidation didn’t disappear completely, but it began to fade, and she returned my smile. I couldn’t help brushing my thumb along the soft skin on the back of her hand before lifting it to my lips. Just that simple touch sent shockwaves of lust rolling over my body, and I let her see the hunger I felt for her. Her eyes blinked rapidly with surprise, but I didn’t miss the spark of desire that ignited. I grinned at the proof that she was attracted to me.

I could definitely work with that.

…

“Welcome to your new home, Mrs. Deveraux.”

When we’d first arrived in front of my pre-war, Upper West Side townhouse, I’d winked at her and swooped her up into my arms for the traditional walk across the threshold. As I set her on her feet, I watched her face, anticipating her reaction. I’d recently remodeled it from top to bottom, making it the perfect place to raise my family and grow old with my wife. Eva had hated it, so I’d considered selling. Now, I was glad I’d held onto it, because something told me that Emma would love it. It seemed her style, the old brought beautifully back to life.