Authors: Ghiselle St. James
“I can’t…believe…we’re getting…married!” Kaylee moans as I pound into her. She hasn’t been able to believe this for the past two hours.
Ever since I proposed to the tearful future bride, she’s been babbling non-stop, and staring at the rock on her finger…non-stop. Even during sex. Just…non-stop. I shouldn’t be annoyed by this. After all, she was just proposed to. Of course she’s going to be excited. Fuck, I should be over the moon! I struck out with this one. Kaylee Stone, my boss’s daughter.
Platinum blond hair that fans out on my pillows, reminiscent of an aura. Striking green eyes that always seem to see beyond what they’re supposed to see. Breasts that don’t quite fill my palms, but are ample, perky and responsive – can’t forget responsive! Her legs go on forever and are toned and fucking strong! She’s got a grip on those legs, when she wraps them around my waist, that rivals the grip of her tight pussy on my dick. She’s beautiful and she’s every man’s fantasy. So, of course she’s my own fantasy, too.
I want her to be my fantasy.
She could become my fantasy.
S
he’s never been my fantasy. Sigh.
“Oh, baby! Give it to me harder. Fuck your fiancé harder!” she commands, her gaze trained on her ring…
once again.
The ring is not even that impressive, really. It’s a simple round diamond center stone wrapped in
pavé diamonds that I’d bought at Tiffany’s three weeks ago. I think she knew I was going to propose or, at least, knew that I’d bought the damn thing. She was particularly attentive, satisfying and loving for those twenty-two days.
Twenty-two days.
The thing felt like it was boring a hole in my pocket, my glove compartment, my desk drawer, my fricking palm…anywhere I had it. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to give it to her; I did, or at least I think I did. Wasn’t that what you’re supposed to do after being with someone for two years? That’s what I’ve been trying to convince myself about.
It’s just…
I don’t know. I wondered constantly if I’d made the right decision in buying the ring. And just when I thought about changing my mind, I just blurted it out over dinner. Luckily, I had the sucker in my jacket pocket and had some rehearsed, insincere speech thought up. I was always good at thinking on my feet. That’s why I’m such a good lawyer.
“I’m gonna be your wife! That’s so fucking hot!” she screams as her eyes glaze over with heat.
I should stop, or muzzle her, or both. I feel myself slipping, losing wood.
Shit.
I have to do something, and fast, lest Kaylee thinks I don’t want her.
But, you don’t,
a voice niggles at the back of my mind.
My mind conjures up a memory. A memory I have no
business conjuring, but that I’ve been conjuring for ten years. I start to visualize those innocent, piercing, unreal blue eyes, lush pink lips, and curly red hair that I loved, still love. That face. Oh, that beautiful face…
I groan as I drive into Kaylee even harder now. It is so easy to remember
her
and that day because I keep replaying it over and over in my mind. I’d obsessed over her even long after she had left, much as I do in moments like this. I picture those features and something inside me breaks. I’m a sick bastard, I know.
I come with a guttural shout, sweat pouring down my face and body, vibrating with the intensity of my climax.
I’m going to hell.
Sigh.
“God, Colin. That was amazing!” Kaylee gushes as I roll to her right side.
She trails her left hand down between my pecs, still staring at her engagement ring. I suppress the urge to roll my eyes and roll off the bed instead. I’m a bastard.
As I make my way to the bathroom to clean up, I try to convince myself that I’m doing the right thing marrying Kaylee. With every step, I try to erase what I’d just done out of my head, my heart.
With every slap of my feet on the cool tiles, I try to forget
her.
I try to forget that the reason I’ve been so confused and unsure is because of
her.
I try to forget that the reason all my relationships have never worked out in the past is because of
her
– their eyes weren’t blue enough; their hair wasn’t the right shade of red; they didn’t have the same fiery personality; they didn’t have the same pink lips…they just weren’t
her.
It’s been ten goddamn years and I can’t forget the
girl. Southerlynn Row, the object of all my fantasies, the subject of all my scorn, the fucking thorn in my side, and the reason I can’t fucking move on with my life.
I scrub a hand over my face and stare at myself in the mirror, my eyes flitting to Kaylee as she raises her hand and stares dreamily at her engagement ring. I shouldn’t be annoyed. She’s happy, and that’s all I’ve ever wanted. I smile to myself as I wash up. I’m going to make a home with this woman.
This is me finally moving on with my life, I settle. Kaylee is an amazing woman. She’s a fashion editor for a popular fashion magazine, and she’s no ditz. Well, for the most part. She does have her airhead moments, but I guess she’s allowed to have those with a body and beauty like hers.
But her hair isn’t red and her eyes aren’t blue
, an annoying voice reminds me. I shake off all thoughts of South Row and let the bitterness and anger I had felt all those years ago fill me. She left. And with her disappearance, she’d left a trail of disaster.
The morning after that fateful night, I woke to find my bed empty and my sheets riddled with spatters of blood. I got rid of those before my mom could find them. And she had stolen my money; the money I had worked so goddamn hard for.
I went to look for her, to confront her about stealing from me, and about what had happened the night before, and to tell her to stay away from me – and to get one last, satisfying look at the beauty I’d claimed. When I got to her house, police had cordoned off the dilapidated premises and a crowd had gathered, a flurry of confused voices raised.
It was the scene of a murder-suicide and the case of a
missing South. For months, searches went on to find her body, assuming she had died. But I knew different. She wasn’t dead. I could feel her under my skin, in my blood, my veins…my heart. When I had claimed her that night, little did I know that she had claimed me as well. She left, and with her, she took my heart. I’ve since been operating with a transplant. Kaylee did that. She gave me her heart so I could love again. Sappy, I know, but when it’s right, it’s just right.
But it’
s not right,
the annoying voice continues. I put a lid on those thoughts, not willing to explore the possibility that Kaylee is all wrong for me. How can she be? She’s perfect. Any man would be lucky to have her and I am.
I exit the bathroom and slip into bed with my fiancé
e. Clutching her to me in a spoon, I inhale her cherry blossom scent and kiss the back of her neck. She shudders involuntarily and sighs happily.
“
I love you, Colin,” she says.
“
I love you, too.”
No you don’t.
Stupid, annoying voice.
**********
“Dude, I can’t believe you’
re gonna walk the plank!” Luke exclaims as the bunch of us sit down to lunch the next day.
Luke and I have been friends since college and are both lawyers in the same firm
– me a criminal lawyer and him a divorce lawyer. No surprise there. He is a glorified playboy with his neat blonde hair, grey eyes and athletic build.
“Different day, different girl”
is his motto; pledging that he wants to die hilt deep in pussy. We laugh at his man-whorish ways; teasing that when he does fall for a woman, he’ll fall hard. He hates when we tease him like that; going silent for minutes, sometimes hours, contemplating the horror of being a one woman man.
Next to him is Johann, another buddy from college. With his tall, muscular build, dark hair and brown eyes, he considers himself the Latin lover, vain as they come; but is committed to his girlfriend of six months – though he’s vowed to never get married. He’s a
why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free
kinda guy
.
He owns a fitness center and a dance club that is our usual dig on a Friday or Saturday night, sometimes for the entire weekend. That’s where I met Kaylee only to find out she was my boss’s daughter. After a few dates and a weekend where we locked ourselves away and fucked until neither of us could stand, I was hooked. Thankful that the love drought brought on by South’s disappearance had been over.
Yeah, right.
My little brother, Connor, who is no longer little, sits
beside me. He’s a fresh, new architect that is taking modern design with a splash of antiquity by storm. The guy is raking in clients from celebs to politicians. I told you, he’s the Ultra-lord of cool. He’s beginning to look more and more like our dad with his dirty blonde hair and green eyes. I take more after our mother with ash brown hair and hazel eyes tinged with gemstone green rings around the pupils. Connor has had relationships here and there, but none ever serious. He’s career-focused and I can’t blame him. He’s never been the same since South left, though. Neither of us has been.
New to the group, but just as awesome, is Wyatt. At first glance, he looks like a computer nerd in his black-rimmed glasses. He is, but, on closer inspection – and more t
ime spent with the fucker – you’ll find he’s a cool, irreverent, tattooed version of Clark Kent. His dark hair is always short at the back and spiky on top. He’s bulky, but not overly so.
He has the most awesome tattoo, black wings that trail down his back with a broken halo in between his shoulder blades. Tats also cover his arms to the elbow and he has black flames peaking up from his collared shirt on his neck. He is a computer nerd, but one o
f the coolest sons o’ bitches I’ve gotten to know in a while. Oh, and he’s also married. Happily so.
We’re a rowdy set, and I wouldn’
t change the fuckers.
“
Hey, marriage is a noble institution, filled with lots of love and happiness. Leave the boy alone. If he wants lock his dick down, let him lock his down,” Johann says sarcastically.
I roll my eyes, ready to defend myself, but Wyatt chimes in,
“Shut up, pencil dick. Marriage
is
a noble institution, filled with love and happiness. It’s fuckers like you who fuck it up for everybody.”
“That’
s why I
stays
single,” Luke counters, knocking fists with Johann.
“No, honey, you’re single because you can’t get pussy,” Wyatt teases Luke, patting his hand in a
there, there, sonny
way.
The table breaks out in hysterics, laughing like no one else is around. A woman clears her throat in that obnoxious way that says
there are other people around, you know.
We all pause, looking at the table she is at, and then break out into louder hysterics.
“Too much come in the throat, honey?” Wyatt sneers and we laugh again.
The woman throws down her napkin, muttering, and shoots us a death glare before screeching her chair backwards and stomping off without leaving a tip.
“Aw, sweetie,” Connor pipes up, clutching his chest mockingly, “You’re breaking my heart.”
“You guys are gonna get us kicked the fuck out of here,” I say, wiping tears from my eyes.
“If Johnny boy knows what’s good for him, “Connor huffs, looking around for said owner, “he’ll keep those thoughts in that fat noggin of his. Our money is just as good as the rest of these suits and skirts.” Connor says that last part loudly.
Candy, the hostess, glares at him. He shoots her a smile and a wink and I swear her panties disintegrate right in front of my eyes. My little brother is a lady-killer.
I shake my head and chuckle lightly at the group of guys I call friends. I wouldn’t change them for all George Clooneys in the world. What? I heard the old fucker’s cool.
“Dude, seriously. There are other ways to commit suicide, you know?” Luke interjects. “Like slitting your wrists. Or jumping off the Golden Gate Bridge. Hey, why don’t you get that mean ass .44 caliber of yours and blow your brains out? Why get married when you can just give your girlfriend the house when you start hating her guts?”
I stare at Luke like he’s lost his mind.
“Okay, Luke, even for you that’s way harsh,” Johann comments.
“Yeah, dude, lighten up. You’re acting like you’re gonna lose him or somethin’,” Connor adds.
Luke looks at me strangely. The shadow is gone in a second, but I see it. I don’t know if it is a situation where he’s just concerned for me as a friend or if it’s something more, but, I let it pass. For now.
“Look, I wanna do this. I’m gonna do this,” I resolve.
“You had that ring for twenty-one days, Collin. If you were sure, the moment you bought that ring you would’ve popped it on her pretty little manicured finger,” Luke argues.
Johann and Wyatt nods in agreement, but it is Johann that speaks first, “Yeah, dude. What’s up with that?”