Page 27 of Accidentally Marrying the Prisoner
Conrad doesn’t hand my keys over until we’re both buckled in, with me in the driver’s seat, and I jam my key in the ignition. I pull out of the parking lot just as fast as Mom, speeding through the gears, headed toward her house. I mutter curses and grievances down the narrow, pitch-black, two-lane county roads until we get to one of only a few matchbox-sized suburbs in town. Andof courseshe isn’t there. This I confirm by knocking on and trying to lift every dark window of the one-story white clapboard house since my key to the front and back doors no longer works, and the spare is missing from under the welcome door mat.
“Where does Garth live?” I ask Conrad, having called Mom thirty-two times, all of which have gone straight to her voicemail box.
“They don’t exactly give out that information upon release,” he says, sitting on Mom’s front porch swing, pushing it back and forth with the toes of his new boots.
Duh.
“We’d have a perfect view of the sunset out here,” Conrad says wistfully, staring off into the distance.
My frustration ebbs slightly as I picture the two of us out here with a blanket draped over our laps come winter, sipping non-alcoholic mulled cider. He’d wrap his arm around my waist, curling me into his side, his large, warm hand resting on my rounded baby bump.
Gah!
I jump off the porch and drop down into my driver’s side seat, hanging my head in my hands with exhaustion. I really wish I could have had that margarita.
Conrad slides his hand up my thigh, startling me, and he crouches before my open door. “It’s not so bad being married to me, is it?” he asks, his brows creased in the middle, all his smug attitude from earlier wiped from his handsome face.
I swing my legs out of the car and cup his cheeks, lightly scratching his beard. “No, of course not.”
“Even if I’m a bossy, royal pain in your ass?”
“You’re worse than that,” I grumble, looking back and forth between his intense green eyes in the warm, low light cast by the street lamps. “But…yes, even so. Sometimes. Just a little bit. Like, the teeniest, tiniest fraction of a fraction.”
Conrad chuckles. “Same.”
I pout and cross my arms.
Conrad stands and gently tugs at the end of my hair. “You can dish it out, but can’t take it, huh?”
I slip my hands under his new Henley, low over his stomach, and tease, “Oh, but I thought I was so good at taking it.”
A bulge grows larger behind his zipper, and he swipes his thumb across my bottom lip. “That you do, princess.” He cuts his eyes to the left when a car’s headlights grow brighter with their approach. When it’s clear it’s not my mom’s car, he says, “We need to go before I end up begging you to suck me off out here where anyone could see.”
“Classy,” I say sarcastically, swiveling fast in my seat and starting the engine.Although…my core heats at the thought of Conrad getting so hot for me that he’d fuck me anywhere he wanted, whenever he wanted. Up until right this very second, I’ve been too intimidated by the size of his cock to take him in my mouth, but I don’t think I would mind all that much trying to now, even out in the open.
Wait. Where did that thought come from? I’m a good girl. I shouldn’t want that. But it’s still on my mind when we get home fifteen minutes later. Before Conrad has a chance to unbuckle his seat belt, I lean over the middle console and work on unfastening his button and the zipper of his jeans.
“Right now?” he asks, his fingers fumbling to help me finish pulling his hard cock out. His hips jerk up, his head flying backagainst his headrest when I grip his thick shaft and attempt to take his crown in my mouth.
Fuckingow. The corners of my lips burn with the stretch, yet that doesn’t deter me. Neither does the fact that I’m mooning the parking lot, kneeling sideways on my seat with my face in my husband’s lap. So hot.
Conrad gathers my hair in his fist so he can see my face, and his mouth drops open with a little choked sound when I draw back enough to spit in my palm so his cock will be slick enough to jack. I circle his crown with my tongue before I pop it into my mouth and suck it like a straw. On and on, I squeeze and suck him while wiggling my ass with my own arousal growing stronger.
“Fuck, princess, just like that,” Conrad rasps. “I’m so close. Almost never felt anything so good.”
I snap upright before he climaxes. “Almost? Did you seriously just tell me you’ve had a better blow jobwhile I’m actively blowing you?” The freaking nerve!
Conrad’s eyes flash dangerously in the glow from the parking lot’s new light poles, and he grips the nape of my neck, yanking me so close that our noses bump. “I said ‘almost’ because the only thing I’ve ever had better is your little princess pussy. No one comes close to you, Mirabeth,” he growls. “And no one ever will.”
Time stands still when Conrad drops his gaze to my lips, his right hand tangling in my hair, and he tilts his head. I wait…and wait…and wait for him to kiss me for the first time. He doesn’t.
Instead, he says in a deep, rumbling voice, “Now open your little mouth and finish giving me the best head of my life so I can return the favor.”
Geez. What a let down…almost. I’m still looking forward to him eating my pussy, preferably before we go inside the apartment, but I’m not as enthusiastic now. I doubt he can tell,though, since it only takes approximately thirteen seconds for him to cum.
As soon as he does—my god, there’s so much of it—he pulls me off his dick and commands, “Do not swallow.”
I screw up my face in question, even though I do what he wants, kinda grossed out the longer his cum lingers in my mouth. The taste isn’t bad, but I can’t say I’m a big fan of the feel of it. I almost choke on it, though, when he crowds me back against the driver’s side door, lifts my hips to arrange my ass on the console, and pulls down my panties.
