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His Virgin Bride: A Fake Marriage Romance by Kara Hart (75)

Addison

I turn over, feeling the sun against my eyelids. The world is a beautiful place, I’ve decided. As long as Helena is nearby, it seems a hell of a lot nicer. I yawn and stretch my arm out, wrapping it around her body. I feel her waist and her nice butt. I kiss her cheek and she laughs slightly, still tired and groggy.

“Let me sleep,” she says.

“Let’s get some breakfast,” I reply, smiling.

And then she turns over and my heart fucking stops. No. I jump out of bed. “What the fuck?” In place of Helena is Halloway and his grin is huge.

“Come to bed, dear,” he says, suddenly turning old. His skin starts to sag and behind my whole house turns into that dreadful place we served overseas.

I wake up.

“Fuck!” I scream, sweat falling down my face. I look over where Helena should be, half scared to find Halloway sleeping there. Of course, he isn’t. It was just a bad dream. I have those constantly. You’d think by now I’d get used to it, but I still haven’t.

Helena has gotten out of bed, but I can still smell her perfume. I breathe it in and smile, placing my hands behind my back. My cock goes hard again when I peer through the sliver of open door. I see her, butt-ass naked. She’s cooking eggs and bacon and I hear coffee brewing too. Damn, this woman is completely perfect, isn’t she?

I get out of bed, letting it all hang out. I don’t care. This is normal for me and she’s in my house doing the same. This is like a dream come true, to be honest. It is, especially, in comparison to that Halloway nightmare. I push open the door and walk up behind her.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” she says, cocking her head back with a smile. “I’m making breakfast. Sorry I went through your fridge.”

“Go through it all,” I laugh. “Mi casa es su casa.”

“I hope you’re hungry,” she says.

“Starving actually,” I say.

“Even after last night?” She winks.

“I’m insatiable,” I laugh. “I could eat for days.”

I grab a cup of coffee from the pot and take a sip, testing the heat. It’s too hot but it tastes damn good. “I just had the worst dream of my entire life,” I laugh, shaking my head.

“What was it?” she asks, flipping a piece of bacon.

“I dreamt Halloway was in bed with me when I woke up. It was fucking terrifying,” I say, still wiping some sweat from my forehead with my undershirt.

She cracks up. “Maybe it’s wish fulfillment.” She shrugs, smiling at her joke.

“What?” I’m taken aback. “Like Freud and shit? Didn’t that guy want to fuck his mother or something?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. He did a lot of cocaine I think.”

“Sounds like a hell of a guy,” I sigh.

She serves the bacon and eggs and, out of the toaster, comes some burnt bread. “Oops. Kind of left that in for a little too long,” she says.

I shrug. I could care less. “I love it burnt,” I admit. It’s true. I’ll eat anything that’s given to me. It gives me the fuel to keep working out.

I glance at her when she turns around. No, maybe glance isn’t the right word. I stare at her, jaw dropping. Every time I see her it’s a new sensation. Her tits rest against her chest like big tear-drops. She sets the plates down but I walk over and wrap my hands around her waist. Keep in mind, I’m still hard as a fucking rock.

“What’re you up to?” She smiles as I kiss down the arch of her neck. I watch as goose pimples shoot up across her skin. Her hair follows the same pattern.

“Nothing,” I say. “Just enjoying you.”

I move lower and cup her breasts, kissing them each and lightly tonguing at her nipples. “God,” I sigh. “Perfection.”

“Stop that and eat your food,” she says, eyeing me. But I know better. She’s turned on and so am I.

“What if I don’t?” I ask her, sitting down. “What if I do this instead?”

I grab my cock and spit downward. I begin to stroke myself, keeping my eyes steady on her. I don’t even fucking blink.

“Then I’ll do this,” she says, eyeing me in that same deviant way. She spreads her legs and puts her hand in between, also using her spit as lube. She begins to rub her clit. Every so often, she inserts two or three fingers. I just keep watching.

“You like getting yourself off in front of me,” I say. “Don’t you?”

She nods delicately. She’s like porcelain, like a rare artifact. And I need her. I adore her, dammit. “You’re going to cum quick, aren’t you?” I ask. I’m hoping she will because I’m already at the point of no return.

When she nods, I whisper, “So am I.”

Her eyes half-close and her soft stomach twitches. When I visibly see that she’s about to cum, I walk over and fall to my knees. I stuff my face in between her legs and she starts moaning as loud as I’ve ever heard someone moan before. “Fuck!” she screams, tilting her head back.

Her pussy twitches and by the way she moves, an electric-type current has begun to shoot throughout her body. I cum with her, moaning deeply and keeping my tongue against her clit. I suck away until we’re both finished.

“Holy shit,” she sighs, face pink and glistening.

“This is a good breakfast,” I say, resuming my eating. “Really good. How did you get the eggs to be this soft, without running?”

She smiles and shakes her head. “Who are you, dammit?”

“I’m the handyman,” I smile.

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