4
CLINT
CLAIMING WHAT’S MINE
Taylor stands in my bedroom, clasping her arms across her body. She looks as excited to be here as a cow being ushered into the slaughterhouse.
God only knows what I look like right now.
I swipe my hand through my hair, frustration burning inside me. If I didn’t owe Jesse my life, there’s no way I’d have agreed to his stupid-ass plan. We’ll find a wife, he said. We need someone to help around the house. Someone to bring a feminine touch to the place. He has other ideas, too. Ideas he hasn’t chosen to share with the poor girl practically cowering near the doorway.
I know what I need to do. I need to make this marriage official, and I need to make Taylor feel good about it. I’m a terrible person in a lot of ways, but I draw the line at making a woman do something she doesn’t want to do. I mean, she’s here. She’s chosen to go through with a wedding. She’s not so innocent that she doesn’t know what happens between a husband and his wife. Sex ed is a requirement in all high schools, isn’t it? But we haven’t even kissed yet. How the hell am I supposed to lead her into comfortable-feeling sex?
“Close the door,” I tell her as I unbutton the cuffs of my smart button-down. The stiff collar has been strangling me all day.
Taylor’s almost a blur as she moves to carry out my instruction.
“This must be strange for you.”
She shrugs her shoulders, returning to her defensive pose.
“But you want this, right? You want a husband?”
She bites her lip, and her throat moves in an almighty swallow, then she nods.
“Right. Good.” I moisten my bottom lip with my tongue. “Come here.”
I continue unbuttoning my shirt, tugging it from my body, and tossing it over a chair. By the time Taylor crosses the room, her cheeks are flushed red, and her mouth is pressed into a worried line.
“You look like you’ve never seen a man without a shirt before?”
“I have.”
“Have you done this before?” I nod towards the bed. I hope she has. Breaking a virgin would make this whole situation even more of a challenge.
She confirms that she has, with a small nod, but nothing about her body language screams experience. I touch her cheek, and the heat of her blush warms my palm. She has pretty pink lips with a defined V in the center. I let my thumb brush over it, and Taylor’s eyelids droop in response.
The white dress Jesse bought her is pretty but shapeless, hanging from below her bustline and finishing mid-calf. It’s hard to make out her form beneath. I touch the strap on her shoulder, and she shivers.
I tip her chin, so she’s forced to look up at me. She must be five-four, and I’m over six-two, so there’s a lot of height difference between us. She’s not a waif, though. She has curves and a softness about her that is warm and appealing, the feminine opposite of all the places I’m big, rough, and hard.
It’s been a while since I’ve been with a woman. There are plenty in town who are happy for me to warm their bed for a night and maybe want more, but I never leave feeling anything other than emptiness. They don’t know the real me. If they did, they wouldn’t like who I am or what I did.
It’s going to be the same with Taylor. She doesn’t know me, so this process will be empty—just two bodies moving against each other. There will be pleasure involved—I never leave a woman wanting—but that doesn’t make for a connection—at least, it won’t for me.
When I move the strap from Taylor’s shoulder, she looks to the side, watching for what I might do next. It’s time to get this girl naked.
My cock stirs despite my reservations. Jesus. I’d have to be dead not to get rock hard at the thought of sliding between Taylor’s warm, thick thighs. That was the first thing I noticed about her when she shuffled onto the stage, before her pretty eyes and heart-shaped face, before her lilting voice and sweet attempts to appeal to the men in the place with her homely skills.
When I slide the other strap down, I tug so the dress drops beneath her breasts, and she sucks in a whooshing breath of surprise at the speed. Her tits are perfect creamy handfuls with rosy nipples that are already hard.
“Pretty,” I say, brushing the back of my hand first over one tight nipple, then the other. When I glance up at her face, her eyes are closed.
The dress has a zipper at the side, which I unfasten, and when it drops to the floor, Taylor is left in purple cotton bikini underwear. Her hands fly to cover it, which I find odd. She wasn’t worried about me seeing her breasts, only her underwear? Admittedly, it’s not sexy lace or shiny satin. It isn’t white like most women wear on their wedding day, but I don’t give a damn what she’s arrived in. If her momma or papa didn’t see fit to buy her decent clothes, that’s their problem. She won’t want for anything now she’s here. She might not find true love, but she will be provided for.
“Don’t cover yourself,” I say. “I’m going to see all of you. I’m going to be inside you.” I slide my hand into her hair and grip her nape, tipping her face. I move closer, watching her pupils expand, in arousal or fear, I can’t be sure. “And I’m going to make this good, okay?”
Her neck flexes as though she intended to nod, but I’m holding her too tightly to allow any range of motion. I kiss her, expecting her to be slow to respond, but she opens her mouth for me and moans a little in her throat. I start to lose my composure.
“Lie on the bed, Taylor.”
Just like at the door, she’s quick to act. Jesse would enjoy that kind of obedience. He likes being a boss. As for me, her willingness to please just makes this easier. If she resisted, I’d be downstairs like a shot. Jesse might want this, but I’m not willing to do anything to anyone if they’re not on board.
It doesn’t take long for me to pull off my socks and drop my jeans and boxer briefs. Taylor watches me with parted lips and eyes a little too wide. They widen even more when I fist my aching cock.
“Take off your panties,” I say, the huskiness in my voice made of real anticipation.
I might be here because of Jesse, but Taylor makes me want to stay. She wriggles out from the purple cotton, keeping her legs pressed together as much as she can. Regardless, I catch a flash that drives me forward.
Before I can get on the bed, she rolls to her side and sticks her very nice, peachy ass in my direction. Confused, I press my hand to her hip and roll her back. “What are you doing?”
“You… you want to have sex, right?”
I frown, trying to work out what’s going on. “Yeah, darlin’. But I’m going to make you feel good first.”
She seems confused, blinking as I gently part her legs and kiss a soft trail from her knee to the inside of her thigh. When I glance up at her, she’s watching me with the sweetest furrow between her brows and her arms covering her breasts. I take her wrist and gently move one arm away and then the other, pressing them into the mattress so she understands where I want her to keep them.
“Trust me,” I whisper against her skin, kissing her again. She shivers as I part her sweet little lips, revealing tender pink flesh. I press a kiss to her clit, and she moans. Our eyes meet, and her mouth drops open to a surprised O.
Her reactions aren’t what I’d expect at all. It’s like no one has ever kissed her between her legs. Who the hell has she been having sex with that hasn’t shown her any kind of attention? Who wanted to just fuck her from behind?
When I slide my tongue the length of her slit, she closes her eyes and tips her head back, arching her neck, and when I suck, she makes the prettiest little whimper. I wait until she’s shifting her hips and pressing against my mouth before I rest a finger at her entrance. She’s wet and ready when I slide just one inside her, finding tight, clenching heat. It’s a struggle to get the second in, but when I do, and I twist my fingers, her pussy clamps down, fluttering with release. The gasps she makes almost destroy me. My dick is like iron, and my balls are tight and aching. I grab a condom, conscious of Jesse’s plan, and roll it down my length as quickly as I can. By the time I’m sheathed and ready, Taylor has opened her eyes and is staring at me like a surprised rabbit.
“Did that feel good?” I ask, climbing over her body.
She nods, staring at my mouth like she can’t believe what it’s capable of. I press my lips against hers, and it’s like sliding into paradise. The tentativeness of her hands on my back sends a shiver running up the column of my spine and spinning out over my scalp. She slides her tongue against mine, tasting herself but not recoiling. I let my cock rest against her pelvis, giving her time to get accustomed to the feel of it against her skin. When she shifts her hips, seeking friction, I know she’s ready. Canting my hips, I get into the perfect position to enter her slowly.
Just the tip.
I let it rest there with just a small amount of pressure, closing my eyes so I can focus on every sensation. Her muscles flutter against me, anticipating more.
I give her a little more. Just another inch. I have to clench my glutes to hold back from surging forward. My body craves her tight, wet heat. Sinking into her warmth and softness would be a balm.
I’m an asshole for all of this, for going along with Jesse, for claiming Taylor when I’m never going to be capable of being the kind of husband she deserves, for not being honest about what her life here is going to be like.
I haven’t lied to her, but I haven’t told her the truth, either. It’s just as bad.
Another inch and her body opens to me like the sweetest summer bloom. I push an arm beneath her, needing to bring her closer.
“How does it feel?” I ask, whispering the words close to her ear.
“Good,” she whispers back. Our exchange makes me feel better, like we’re in this together. I don’t know her motivation for going along with this, but I don’t need to. All I need to do is take care of her so that she remembers this as pleasurable.
When I push inside her to the root, she gasps, and when I withdraw and thrust into her hard, she moans.
“Just good?”
Her fingers dig into my shoulder as her body quakes with each thrust. Her laugh is just a whisper, but it sounds real enough. “Really good… ohhhh.”
I grind into her, putting pressure on her swollen clit with my pubic bone, wanting to make her come apart again, needing to prove something to myself as much as to her.
This part, I can do. I can use my body to make her feel good. The physical requirements of life are easy. I’m a hard worker, always diligent about what’s expected of me. I try to be the best because of what I did. I won’t ever be a disappointment at this.
The rest…
I hold her tighter, pushing deeper and harder, gripping a hand beneath her ass to tip her hips just right.
“Ohhhh…”
Her neck arches again, her eyes straining wide and focused on the ceiling. She shifts beneath me, losing control as she seeks the extra she needs to tumble into the beautiful oblivion of release. When she does, I keep moving through every convulsion, but I watch it all; the flutter of her eyelids, the stretch of her lips, the tight sinew in her neck, the sweet flush of her cheeks.
My own release barrels through me in response, and I bury myself so deep between her thighs that I know it might hurt, but I can’t stop myself. I’ve lost all control.
We’re sweat-slicked and spent, two strangers who know more about each other’s bodies than we do about each other’s minds or hearts. Everything is backward, my whole world tipping off its axis.
I’ve done my part. I’ve claimed the bride. What comes next isn’t my responsibility. I’m complicit, but I’m not the one to blame.
I roll from Taylor, conscious that I’m probably hurting her with my weight. On my back, I focus on the ceiling. Taylor lies next to me, still and quiet as a mouse.
“That’s it,” I say. “We’re husband and wife.”
“Yes.”
“Mrs. Lawson.”
I turn to look at her profile, but she doesn’t follow. My heartbeat is an erratic mess from the overexertion of sex and the anticipation of what I have to tell her next.
“Only one of us could marry you,” I say. “For legal reasons.”
She turns now, her eyes searching mine.
“But you belong to all of us, Taylor. Do you understand?”
I turn away before I see her reaction. She’s the kind of person who can keep nothing hidden. She needs to find her own mask to wear like I have. It’s the only way to keep safe from the world.
I touch her hand, which rests between us. “Get dressed,” I say. “There’s still a lot to be done.”
Dressing without looking at her is hard, but it’s for the best. When I leave the room, she’s still in the same place, her eyes focused on the corner of the room, her mind somewhere I’ll never know.