Her Reluctant Husband by Erica Marselas (summer beach reads txt) 📗

with the Peterson account goes well. He has been a thorn in Hayes’ side for a year trying to make him commit and sign to us for all his advertising needs.

“Good thing I already have them nipping at the bud for you. Now create something good.”

“Plan on it.”

“Alright, I’m out. Just know I’ll be inviting myself over to dinner soon.”

“I’m sure you will.” I wave him out.

I pick up the FedEx package Whitney dropped off at my desk and rip it open. The contents are bubble wrapped and there’s a note attached. We wanted you to remember your special day and every husband should have a picture on his desk. -Love Maggie and Ms. Gandy

“Meddling women,” I grumble.

I’ve been up for less than three hours and I swear everyone is pushing my buttons.

I peel back the bubble wrap and reveal a silver framed photo of June and me on our wedding day. June is putting her dad’s ring on my finger, glancing up at me through her lashes, her cheeks blushed. And in the pit of my stomach, I feel rotten for not putting a ring on her finger like Liz wanted.

I push the thought away and toss the frame and note into my desk drawer, but I give my bride a final look before descending her into the darkness.

There’s only one person I can call to handle the meddling duo: Mr. Kelley.

The line rings twice as I stare at the second drawer in my desk holding my wedding photo.

“Hello?” Kelley answers seeming distracted.

“Mr. Kelley? It’s Alex.”

“Alex? I hope this call is not to ask me about any loopholes again.” He chuckles. “You already know my answer.”

“Oh, um no, and sorry about the other night.” I grimace. A couple of nights after the wedding, and after a glass of scotch, I called Mr. Kelley, a little buzzed demanding to know more about a way out, even though I’d already married her.

“It’s alright, son. Honestly, I expected it, but more before you got married. So, how are you? How are things going?”

“I’m alright, besides the fact you could’ve warned me this girl never sleeps,” I groan. “But the reason I’m calling is can you tell Ms. Gandy and Maggie to back off with the meddling. The framed photo is a little much.”

He laughs. “I’ll talk to them, but they’re just trying to help.”

I shake my head and sigh. “Pushing it isn’t going to help matters.”

“I understand. Well, is there anything else you need?”

“No,” I pause and drum my fingers on the desk, then I’m hit with an idea. “Actually, I am in need of a favor.”

“What kind of favor?”

“It’s for June.”

“June?” His voice perks, sounding intrigued. “Really? Well, then what can I do you for?”

I throw my bag on the counter and head for the fridge. I'm starving and I don't expect my new little wife to make me anything after how I acted this morning. I pull out a pack of lunch meat deciding a sandwich will be good enough. It's what I lived on when I lived on my own, when I didn’t order take-out or have dinner with clients. Though I really could go for more of Maggie’s lasagna.

I go to pull the bread from the cabinet when I hear a woman’s sultry voice mixed with a pulsating beat hum across the house.

It appears the missus is home.

I throw the meat and mayo back in the fridge and go to look for my wife. Maybe with some convincing, I can have something better than a sandwich for dinner after all. I head down the narrow staircase that leads to the basement and the music grows louder.

“June?” I call out as I turn the corner and I’m brought to an abrupt stop at the sight of June bouncing around the room. I tuck back behind the wall so she can’t see me, but I’m getting a full view of her with the full length mirrors on the wall doing high kicks, turns, and dipping down low to the rhythm/beat of the song.

I don’t believe my eyes. She’s dancing!

When did she learn how to dance? She was born with two left feet. The girl couldn’t even slow dance without almost breaking people’s toes. Now she’s like some professional moving around this basement, not missing a beat.

She bends down and shakes her ass at me in those tight spandex pants, and I want nothing more than to bite into it. She always did have the most perfect ass. Even if she is skinnier these days, that ass is still round and tight. My dick strains against the zipper and I'm biting my knuckles wondering how I can keep being turned on by her.

“I want you to lick me, feel me…” June is mimicking the words right along as the song continues. This isn’t helping at all.

My head falls back against the wall and I close my eyes. It’s like in technicolor I see June five years ago, bouncing on my dick, her strawberry hair dancing along the top of her dragonfly tattoo and I can almost feel how slick and tight her pussy used to feel around my cock.

I need to get out of here.

Though it’s hard to leave when she makes those little grunts and sighs.

Leave, Alex, leave.

I rush back up the stairs and forgo the idea of food, needing a cold shower instead.

A freezing cold one.

 

The cold water pelts against my heated skin and my traitor dick, but it’s not enough to tame whatever beast has awoken inside of me. I’m trying to think of anything but June’s ass in the damn spandex pants and the memory of her cherry-colored nipples, but my fucking brain is clouded with the essence of