My Big Fat Fake Wedding(112)

That schemer. God, I love her and her crazy ideas.

“Ross?” I whisper, knowing he can’t hear me.

Across the distance, I hear him yelling. “Violet Russo, I love you!”

I gasp and shout back, “I love you too!”

There’s a moment of frozen realization, and then I’m running. I have to hitch my skirt up when I almost trip, but I never miss a step. Running, running, running . . .

Straight into his arms. He catches me, spinning as I wrap my legs around him, our mouths devouring each other as we say it over and over again.

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

And I don’t know how we ever thought this wasn’t real because it’s deep and pure and beautiful.

The lights wink out, drenching us in darkness, and Abi’s voice calls out from somewhere. “Well, I’m out. It’s on you two from here. The picnic basket’s on the home team bench, Old Joe’s the new guard and promised to keep any lookie-loos away, and the stadium is yours until morning.”

Ross and I look at each other, so close that we can see each other in the dim light from the sliver of moon that’s rising in the sky. We laugh and say at the same time, “Abi.” She’s a force of nature, my best friend. No, my sister-in-law.

He walks over and grabs the basket Abi left for us, dropping it gently to the center of the fifty-yard line. He spreads out the big blanket and we sit down.

“Oh, hey, Ross?”

“Yeah?” he calls out in the direction of Abi’s fading voice.

“Can you take my girl Violet home? Seems she needs a ride?” She laughs at the thick layer of sexual innuendo she puts on the word ride, and I can’t help but bite my lip, thinking she’s right.

I do need a ride.

“I did have that dream about fucking you under the bleachers, but maybe the fifty-yard line is even better,” I tease. “You think Old Joe would mind?”

Ross growls, “I don’t give a fuck if he does. Get over here, Violet.” He grabs me, pulling me astride his lap before I even get a chance to move. My dress moves easily out of the way, putting my core against the thick ridge of his cock behind his jeans.

“Oh, feeling bossy again, are we?” I say, running my fingers through his hair and down over his shoulders.

“That depends. Are you going to obey or am I going to have to spank you?” he murmurs against the delicate skin of my neck, kisses peppered between the words.

I hum in pleasure and admit, “Both of those sound pretty good.”

“Honey, I love you so much, but I don’t think I can wait. I need to be inside you. I need to be inside my wife.”

I’ll have to examine the words later because the blood is rushing south as my pussy soaks instantly. I fumble between my legs, trying to undo his jeans as quickly as possible.

“Ross, fuck me. Right here, right now,” I plead.

He shoves my hands out of the way and makes faster progress, undoing his jeans and shoving them down his hips. His cock is rock hard, jutting up proudly between us.

He grips my hips, his fingers denting the supple flesh there as he lifts me. With one smooth motion, he sheathes himself in me to the hilt and I see stars. Not in the sky, but between us as my eyes slide shut in ecstasy.

This. This is what I need, what I am.

At one with Ross Andrews, my husband.

Oh, God, the thought drives me wild.

I buck against him, fucking him as he fucks me back, and I feel dangerously out of control but secure in the knowledge that he’s got me. I clench around him, hugging him with my entire body. “Shit, Vi. You feel so good. Do that again,” he grits out.

I tense every muscle in my core, and Ross wraps his arms around my back, holding me in place as he rocks his hips. He doesn’t let me help now, instead making me take it—him, his love, his cock.

It’s all I never knew I wanted.

The new angle rubs my clit against him with every thrust, and I quickly feel my orgasm bearing down on me. “Yes, that’s it. Come on me. Come on my cock, wife.”

I burst into fiery flames of passion, the electricity jolting through my entire body as I shatter and cry out his name. He follows me into the abyss, jerking against me, and I can feel the hot spurts of his cum filling me.

“I love you, Violet,” he groans through his pleasure.

“I love you, Ross,” I answer.

We collapse to the blanket, panting for breath. Too soon, he slides out of me and I shift over to lie on my side next to Ross, one leg thrown over his and my head cradled on his shoulder.

We’re quiet, lost in our thoughts, but then the giddy little girl in me peeps up. “When did you know?”

“Know what?” he says, not letting me skate by. He wants me to say it, but I don’t mind. I’ll say it over and over.

I lift up, leaning on my elbow. “When did you know you loved me?”

He smiles that cocky smile that used to make me so furious, but now, I love it. “I think always. I was just too stupid to know it. Abi and Court have recently enlightened me on just how stupid I’ve always been about so many things.”

I push at his chest. “You’re not stupid. Don’t say that.”

“Truly, I didn’t know when this started. But as our supposedly fake engagement continued, I woke up every morning feeling more and more like it was real. And when you were walking down the aisle toward me, all I wished for was that we could make it real. That somehow, despite my high school idiocy and all the other insanity, I could be the one to wake up next to you every day, that I could be the one to hold you in my arms every night. I wanted . . . I want to be your husband. Because, Violet Russo, somehow, some way, I’ve finally realized something that I should have seen years ago. I love you . . . I’m in love with you. So, Violet Russo, will you marry me? For real, this time?”