The Accidental Marriage: Chapter 39

“Hey, there he is! The brand-new junior partner!” Barry says with a big grin as we pass each other in the office.

A huge grin splits my face, and I high-five him on my way toward the break room to grab another coffee. “Thanks, man.”

The firm has officially announced who’s getting promoted and made the list public. It’s a longstanding tradition at Huxley & Webber. If you can’t stand open competition where everyone knows where you rank, this firm isn’t the right place for you.

Some say the firm should be renamed Sink or Swim, either jokingly or dejectedly. Either way, seeing my name on the list of associates who made junior partner is deeply satisfying. I’ve worked hard at my career to get to where I am. Although my responsibilities have shifted from initial associate-grind to actually acquiring new clients and managing existing client relationships, I have no doubt I’ll be successful. I am Ares fucking Huxley.

“Congratulations, Ares,” says Aunt Jeremiah, who pours black coffee into her blood-red Huxley & Webber mug, then raises it. “You made it.”

“Thank you.”

“I wasn’t sure about your wife at first, but I’ve decided I like her. She exerts a stabilizing influence on you, which is excellent. Every man needs someone like her.”

I grin at the approval in her voice. It isn’t always easy to get a passing grade from Aunt Jeremiah. The woman embodies excellence in almost every aspect of her life, and perfection in the courtroom—and demands the same from those around her. “She’s amazing.”

“She’ll be even more amazing once she ditches Highstrung, Dickhead and Associates.” She narrows her eyes. “Tell her I said so.”

I laugh. “I will.”

I already signed the prenup agreement, and since then I haven’t had any contact with Ethan “Pain-in-the-Ass” Beckman. Hopefully Lareina has let him go. She doesn’t need him, not when she has me.

The interoffice messenger beeps.

–Bryce: Congrats, bro. You coming to happy hour to celebrate?

–Me: Thanks. I’d love to, but I’m heading home early to celebrate with my wife.

–Bryce: Nice. A private celebration!

–Me: But next time for sure.

I look at the message thread with a mix of amusement and confusion. If the promotion had happened before marrying Lareina, I would’ve definitely gone to happy hour. After all, it’s a great opportunity to network and see what’s going on. Doing good work and billing a lot are important, but so is knowing what’s happening around me and in legal circles.

But the person I want to share this joy with—on the same day I received the good news—isn’t at the firm. It’s Lareina. My wife.

I finish work half an hour early and head home. On the way, I pick up some gourmet smoked venison ham and cheese. They’ll go well with the Pétrus 2018 I’ve been saving for this occasion.

The moment I open the door, a heady aroma of basil and tomato sauce hits me. The latest song by a popular band, Axelrod, blasts from the Bluetooth speakers in the kitchen.

I stop in the entrance and just watch my wife. Her hair’s tied into a messy knot, her shirt has splatters of paint on the left shoulder—she probably forgot to change after spending hours in her studio—and drawstring pants cling to her ass in just the right way. Her face bare, with bright eyes and full lips, she looks just as beautiful as she did when she got all dolled up for the exhibition.

I want to tell her to forget the dinner and ravish her on the spot. At the same time, I feel bad about wasting her effort. Besides, today might be a significant day for her, too. Like maybe she’s finally getting her hands on her money.

She taps the edge of the boiling pot of water, staring at the phone screen. “When is he going to get here? It’s been forever since Bryce said he left the office.”

“Who are you waiting for?” I ask with a laugh.

She starts, then leaps at me with a big smile. I embrace her, enjoying the soft, feminine feel of her in my arms.

“What a welcome,” I say with a laugh. “What’s the occasion?”

She widens her eyes. “You’re asking me?”

I nod.

A beat of hesitation. “Were you planning to hide your promotion from me?”

“What?”

“I’m doing homemade pasta from scratch to celebrate. My cooking is still only so-so, but I wanted to do something nice for you. I didn’t add any salt, though. So you’ll want to sprinkle some on it to get the full flavor.”

“Did Bryce tell you about the promotion?” It’s obvious she’s been in touch with my brother.

“Yes. But he wasn’t the only one. I think everyone wanted me to give you a surprise celebration.” She smiles brilliantly. “I’m so happy for you. I know you’ve been working really hard for this.”

“I have, and thank you. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

For a second, her eyes seem to dim, which surprises me. But before I can ask what’s bothering her, she’s back to beaming so brightly that I wonder if I actually saw anything.

“I’m glad,” she says, placing a kiss on my cheek.

Guess it was just a trick of the light. “Is there anything I can do to help?” I ask, shrugging out of my jacket and rolling up my shirt sleeves.

Her gaze drops to my forearms. “I feel like you’re hinting at something.”

I cock an eyebrow. “Got a forearm fetish?”

“Of course. When a man rolls up his sleeves… Mmm.” She does a chef’s kiss. “Those coconuts were great before, but what made them better was the way you cut them open. I could see the muscles…” She fans herself while fluttering her eyes.

“Look all you want.” I flex my forearm muscles.

“Damn.” She bites her lip. “I’m trying to cook here. But no matter how sexy you’d look stirring the sauce, I can’t have you cooking your own celebration meal.”

“You can have me do whatever you want.” I put my hands on either side of her against the counter and cage her. She smells so good—all lemony, with a hint of the herbs she’s been using to cook. I bury my face in her neck and nibble a little. She lets out a soft, infinitely erotic gasp.

I’m hard and ready. I press against her, letting her feel how much I want her.

“How hungry are you?” I ask against her ear.

“Not…that much. You?” she says shakily.

“I can wait.”

“Well.” Her gaze darts to the bubbling sauce and boiling water on the stove. “I guess I can always reheat it.” She cuts the gas.

“I love the way you think.”

I kiss her. I’ve been thinking about this all day. Hell, I think about kissing her all the time. Don’t need a reason. I breathe and I want to kiss her, hold her and pamper her. It’s the strangest thing.

Maybe it’s fate. It’s not like me to be so sentimental, but I don’t know what else it could be when she literally fell into my arms in her wedding gown. She fuses her mouth to mine, her tongue aggressive. Her enthusiasm is the most potent aphrodisiac. I pull her close and slip my hand underneath her shirt, palm her taut skin, reveling in the supple warmth. When I move higher and cup her bare breast, I groan. If I’d known she was braless when I walked in, I might’ve just tossed her over my shoulder before we could even exchange greetings.

I set her on the edge of the counter and push the shirt up. Her breasts never fail to catch my attention, so plump and soft, tipped with gorgeous, rosy points. Part of me wants to go slow and drag it out, but another part of me wants it fast and furious. She plunges her fingers into my hair, pulls me to her chest. I close my mouth around the nipple. Her cries of pleasure are better than the finest whiskey, hot and potent. I knead the other breast, enjoying the pleasant weight in my palm. Her breathing grows shallow, and a moan tears from her slender throat where her pulse flutters wildly. Lust turns monstrous at her openly unabashed desire.

“Please,” she says, her eyes narrowed and glittering with need. “I want you right now. I’m so wet.” She takes my hand and leads it beneath her pants.

Her impatience fuels mine. Overheated blood pumps through me. The fire in my veins burn away my control. I kiss her with unrestrained greed, stroke her, caress her and rub her, making her thrash and beg and rock against me.

Her pants and underwear fall to the floor. She undoes just enough of my slacks to grip my naked dick and bring it to her pussy.

“Wait, no condom.”

“So pull out and mark me.” She throws out the answer carelessly before gliding her slick flesh over mine.

I clench my teeth, but it can’t contain the groan when she positions the opening of her pussy against the tip of my cockhead. My vision blurs red, and every tendon in my neck and shoulders stand. A tiny sliver of sanity says pulling out isn’t the most reliable method. That’s how Hux’s half-brother got his wife pregnant. I should—

“Don’t you want me?”

Okay, fuck it. Her breathless question shatters all my prudence, especially when she looks at me like something’s breaking inside her. I drive into her hot depths with one powerful stroke, throw my head back and moan at how amazing her pussy feels against my cock. She’s so hot, so wet. Without a barrier between us, I’m aware of every little spasm of her inner muscles around my shaft.

Sweet Mother of God.

I dig my fingers into her pelvis and grind my teeth. She grips my shoulders, her nails marking my skin. The pain is shockingly erotic. I pound into her. Her head falls back, her mouth parted, her eyes rolling up as she loses herself in pleasure. Her breasts bob up and down; I take a nipple into my mouth and suck hard.

“Ares!” she screams. She convulses around my cock as an orgasm seizes her, and she’s even wetter, her juices soaking me to the balls.

I continue thrusting, not giving her a chance to come down from the high. Her already pleasure-softened body responds beautifully, hitting another peak with ease. When her inner muscles grip me, my balls tighten and the base of my spine tingles, signaling an impending climax. I’m not going to be able to stop it—

I pull out. “Fuck,” I groan as my cum spurts all over her belly. The sight of the white, sticky fluid hitting her and sliding down drives me feral. My cock stays half hard.

I could take my wife all night long. All day long. Hell, all forever long.

Cradling her beautiful, flushed face, I kiss her with all the taut emotion inside me. She runs her fingers over my face, tracing every line tenderly. Sweetness tinged with something wistful fleets over her. A hot surge of adoration fists around my heart. Her eyes are so brilliant, like stars are shining within their depths.

I start to speak, “Lareina, I love—”

She puts a finger over my mouth. “Let’s get divorced.”