Cliche Day - November 3rd
LAINEY
I grab the carton of ice cream out of the freezer, yank off the lid, and open the cabinet to get a bowl. Changing my mind, I close the door and grab a big spoon from the utensil drawer. My eyes land on the faux gold band on my ring finger. I moved the ring to my right hand when I had to go on the Halloween date I set up before I went to Vegas. And again for the Day of the Dead festival. Yep, I went on two dates less than twenty-four hours after getting married. I’m already a shitty wife.
I'm not even sure why I'm still wearing the ring.
Maybe as a reminder that I’m a red-hot mess. If I hadn't insisted on a marriage license to make the joke look authentic, I wouldn't be in this situation. Drunk logic is so stupid. I jam the spoon into the ice cream and scoop up enough to give me a brain freeze but stuff it in my mouth anyway.
Back in the living room, I settle on the couch and start the next episode of the reality show, Below Deck . Other people's drama is way more entertaining than my own. Ben didn't want me to leave Vegas, but I needed space. Surprisingly, Harper was great on the flight home. She didn't yell or lecture but held my hand and told me everything would be okay. I don't know if she believed it, but at least she didn't kick me when I was down.
Ben has texted and called several times since then, and I've ignored them all. That's pretty much been my M-O about everything since getting back. I've channeled my inner ostrich and buried my head deep in the sand. If I don't think about it, then it really didn't happen.
When there's a knock at my door, I know it's him. I'm honestly surprised it's taken him this long to show up since he got back from Vegas two days ago. I set my ice cream aside and get up to look through the peephole. Ben's standing there with his hands on his hips, his agitated expression fierce enough to break through the door. I open it, and he gives me a quick onceover, interest flaring before he quickly masks it.
"Sorry to come by unannounced, but my wife’s going on dates and ignoring my calls."
"Funny," I say dryly.
"True." He gives me a pointed look.
"Don't remind me."
Something flashes across his face, and I wonder if I hurt his feelings. I step back so he can come in. He takes off his coat and tosses it over the back of my dining room chair, paces my living room like a caged tiger before he finally stops and looks at me.
"We have to talk."
"Probably. More than anything, we need to get an annulment. Have you happened to research it yet?"
"No."
"Yeah, I've been in this sort of shocked daze. I guess I owe you an apology. If I hadn't insisted on the license, we wouldn't be in this situation."
He runs a hand through his hair. "Yeah, about that..."
I suddenly notice he looks nervous and guilty, like he did when he told me the license was signed the other morning .
"So, um...things have been coming back to me. And..." He meets my gaze. "I watched Elvis sign it."
It takes a few seconds for what he said to sink in. If he watched, then he knew he was sealing our fate as a married couple. "You watched him sign it...and you didn't stop him?" My voice is way too calm, considering my body’s vibrating with anger.
He rubs the back of his neck. "No."
"What the fuck, Ben! Why not?"
"I don't know." He throws his arms up in surrender. "It was like it was all happening in slow motion, and I was stuck. I couldn't move or talk. Then, it was done."
"What were you thinking? That we would just be married?"
"I don’t think I was really thinking at the time. But…yeah...maybe.”
I blink at him. “What does that mean?”
He shrugs, and looks at me sheepishly. “We could stay married.”
I fist my hair and turn away from him. Am I living in a sitcom? This can’t be my life. Has he lost his mind?
Finally, I face him. “Know what today’s holiday is?” I don’t wait for him to answer. “It’s Cliché Day. That’s us.” I point between us. “We’re a fucking cliché. We got drunk and married in Vegas by Elvis.”
“To be fair, it would probably be more of a cliché if we got divorced."
"Ben! We can't stay married! Our parents are married. "
“I’m aware.”
I blink. How does he not see this as an issue? My mom begged me to stay away from him and I went and fucking married him. I’m the worst daughter in the world.
“Stop pretending this isn’t a big deal. We could ruin our parents’ marriage for a stupid pretend holiday.” I motion between us. “That’s all we even are. A bunch of holiday texts and wrong holidates.”
"No." His head snaps up as he stalks toward me. I backpedal until he cages me against the wall. His eyes are steely, his jaw tight with tension. " Don't . It’s been almost a year, Lainey. A year of becoming friends and sharing moments together that we haven’t experienced with anyone else. I've been inside you, Lainey. Don’t fucking dismiss those holidays. Each and every one of them led us to this moment.”
Just like that, everything changes between us.
Heats.
Pulls in tight.
He's so close, I can't breathe. He leans in and brushes his lips over my cheek before moving closer to my ear. "I know you like no one else." He tips my chin up, his grip intentional, as he leans back enough so our eyes meet. "Say it, Lainey."
When I stay silent, his hand trails down to my neck as his lips feather kisses over my face. Everywhere except my lips. His thumb rubs up and down the column of my throat before he applies a little pressure. Just enough for my body to turn volcanic. My hips thrust against him as I arch back, giving him even more access to my throat.
"Say it, Lainey." He presses his cock into me, his lips hovering over mine.
"No one knows me like you."
As soon as the words leave my mouth, he kisses me, his hand tightening around my throat. It's a punishing kiss. No finesse. No seduction. But it's passionate. Needy. And that's what makes it perfect. He rips his mouth from mine, drops his hand, and kisses down my throat. Though maybe kiss isn't the right word. It's more bites and nips and hard sucks. I have no doubt the evidence will be on my skin for days.
"Did you kiss your dates? "
My heart lurches at the pain I hear beneath the anger. "No. Never. I never kiss them. You know that."
A possessive grin forms on his lips. "I do. Because you're mine."
He grabs the hem of my shirt and pulls it over my head, then rids me of my bra. He kisses down my chest, pulling a nipple in his mouth, sucking hard. I arch into him on a whimper, sinking my fingers into his hair. My body’s on fire. I want his touch everywhere. And as if he heard me, he gives my yoga pants and panties a harsh tug and jerks them off me. His hands grab my thighs, spreading me just before he buries his face in my pussy.
"Ben...fuck..."
My knees buckle, and he puts pressure on my legs to keep me stable as he feasts on my clit.
He moans and pushes his tongue inside me, fucking me in the most delicious way. He's relentless, and it feels so damn good I know I'm not going to last long.
"Yes...right there. I'm going to come."
His fingers dig into my thighs even harder as he attacks my clit again. And I come. Hard. I've never been eaten out so roughly, but I love every second of it. I ride his face, milking every ounce of pleasure he's giving me. When he finally pulls away, he has to grab me so I don't slip down the wall.
He shoots me a self-satisfied smile as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "Delicious." Then he pulls his shirt over his head.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm going to fuck my wife."
And all my insides turn to molten lava.
"Ben...we can't."
"We can." He unzips his jeans and my gaze dips to his gorgeous body.
Finally, I get to see him fully naked. When he stands straight after kicking his jeans off, I take in his beautiful cock. It really is a thing of beauty, thick and long, but not that might break me long. I've never wanted to taste a cock as much as I want to taste Ben's.
"Jesus, you can't keep looking at it like that, or I'm going to come. And I really want to sink into that sweet pussy of yours."
He grabs me by the neck again and kisses me, hard and fast, before ripping his mouth away, and suddenly, I'm being turned and dragged to the couch, where he bends me over the back of it. He moans as his hand gently roams over my ass. "Fucking beautiful."
I feel him slide his cock over my pussy, still wet and aching. "If you don't want me to fuck you, you know how to stop me." He leans forward and kisses me between my shoulder blades, his cock pressing hotly against my ass. "Stop me, Lainey."
He knows I won't. I don't want to. I want this as badly as he does. I always want him. I don't think I'll ever not want him.
I push my ass against him. "Fuck me, Ben."
"Fuck me, husband ," he corrects.
That word from his lips should be like a bucket of cold water on this moment, but my pussy throbs. A sharp slap sounds, and my ass stings, the pleasure pain forcing a moan up my throat.
"Fuck me, husband.”
A guttural sound leaves him right as he pushes inside me. I cry out at how full I feel in this position. His cock feels like silky steel inside me. He grips my hips tightly and fucks me as relentlessly as he ate me out. It's hard and messy and so damn good that I never want it to end.
"Fuck...Lainey...my good little wife. You like how your husband fucks you?"
Holy shit. I had no idea that I'd have a married kink, but his words are making me insane. I clench around his cock. "Yes. You feel so good. Don't stop. "
He groans and fucks me even harder. "Oh, I'm not. I'm going to wreck this pussy."
One of his hands slides from my hip. A moment later, a wet finger slips between my ass cheeks. "Has anyone ever touched you here, wife?" I feel pressure as his finger slowly presses inside.
“No,” I moan the word, unable to form more. The pressure and pleasure building inside me is almost too much. But I love it. How brutally perfect he’s fucking me. How deliciously full I feel.
"One day, I'm going to wreck you here, too. And you're going to take it like the good wife you are."
At that, I fly over the edge. I come hard and loud. His fingers dig into my hip as he pistons in and out of me furiously and comes along with me.
“ Fuck .” He slumps over me, and we stay like that for a good while, all labored breaths and slick skin and spent bodies. He finally pulls away and takes my hand, leading me to the bathroom. He starts the shower and pulls me under the stream when the water's warm. We wash each other, not saying a word the whole time. When we're all dry, we get into bed and tangle our limbs together, facing each other.
"What are we doing?" I ask him softly.
"Cuddling."
"Ben, I'm serious."
We shouldn’t have done that. Yet, I don’t regret it. I can’t even make myself feel guilty about how I’ve broken my promise to my mom. It felt too good. Too right.
"I don't know. I...I'm not ready for it end. Are you going to tell me you never want to do what we just did again?"
I sigh, unable to deny the truth. "You know I do."
He sits up so he's leaning on his elbow. "Then let's keep doing it. Let's have a honeymoon. "
"A honeymoon? What are you talking about?"
"We take our two weeks of fucking our brains out like every married couple. Except we stay here instead of doing it at a tropical resort.”
Panic fires up in my heart, but I can't tell if it's bad or good. "Let me get this straight. You're suggesting a two-week fuckfest, then what? We get the annulment?"
"Yeah. Sure."
That sounds very dangerous. It also sounds really fun. Two weeks of pure, hot sex with Ben sounds like paradise.
"The sexual tension’s never going to die between us if we don't get it out of our systems. We'll just find ourselves back here at some point in the future.” He traces a fingertip down my cheek. “At least if we do this, we'll know. We'll be able to get over it."
I bite my bottom lip, seriously contemplating his proposition. This feels a lot like drunk logic. Neither one of us is drunk, though, so I don't know what it says about me wanting to agree.
His gaze flicks to my right hand, which is lying on the pillow between us. He trails his fingers over my ring and slides it off.
"Give me your other hand."
We stare at each other for a few moments before I move so I can give him my left hand. He slips the band on my ring finger. "Lainey, will you be my wife for the next two weeks?"
I stare at the cheap ring. My finger will probably turn green before the honeymoon’s over, yet I don’t hate the idea of my skin being marked. His proposal is probably the worst idea ever, but I can't seem to say no.
"I will."