INFLUENCED: A Good Girl, Bad Boy Love Story Page 22

  “Please fuck me….. There,” she screamed as my entire finger slid into her tight ass. I didn’t think it was possible, but her hips arched off the bed even higher at my intrusion. I slowly pulled my finger out, hoping she wasn’t hurt.

  “Don’t stop, Spencer, please God, don’t fucking stop.”

  “Never, Peaches. I’ll never stop.”

  Coating my fingers again, I flipped my hand around and positioned my pinky back at her hole and slid my way back inside, as my ring and middle finger slid deep into her aching pussy. I could feel my fingers touching through the thin barrier between her two holes, and it was enough to make me almost spill my load at the foot of the bed.

  Focusing my attention back at her clit, I fucked both of her entrances and licked her until she begged me to stop, then and only then did I put her out of her misery, with her shouting my name so the neighbors could hear. They might not have been able to see anything while we were in the car, but I would bet my last dollar, anyone on our block knew the sound of Megan’s voice as orgasm after orgasm ripped through her.

  With a last pump of my fingers, I coaxed another perfect climax from her body. And while her walls gripped onto the digits of my right hand, I stood up, clutching my throbbing cock in my left and pumped once as a ribbon of white shot out of my head and landed on the chest of the most beautiful woman to ever grace my bed.

  After a minute or two, I couldn’t help the smile that overtook my face.

  “Peaches, you’ve got a little mess right about there,” I pointed towards her covered nipples.

  “I do? Oh no! What happened?” she mocked, sitting up, watching it drip down her torso.

  I shrugged, continuing our little game. “No idea, but I think a shower is in order,” I winked at her.

  “I think you’re right. This stuff is sticky!” She smiled, running her hands through my cum and wiping it all over her stomach.

  “Oh God, Peaches. I really am a bad influence. You’re so bad.”

  We both climbed into the hot water together and washed each other. The act was personal, and deep, and the emotions inside of me were threatening to spill out.

  “Peaches,” I said, pausing with a soapy pink loofah in my hand. “I’ll be right back.”

  With my hair drowned in shampoo and my body covered in suds, I jumped out of the bathtub to a confused, but laughing Megan, and shut the dark gray curtain

  “You’re crazy, Spencer,” I heard her say as I ran to our bedroom, and opened my closet door. I knew where it was, and I couldn’t wait any longer.

  “Crazy about you,” I whispered, finding the book and running back into the bathroom.

  “What could you have possibly needed so badly that you had to stop in the middle of our show--” She stopped, one foot on the ground, the other in mid step out of the tub. “Is that? Is that what I think it is?” She asked me, her eyes trained on the familiar book in my hands.

  “I’m a playboy, Megan. A manwhore. My entire life, all I’ve ever wanted was to sleep my way across Europe, and never settle down. My brain was too big for me, too smart, and I couldn't handle the pressure. My entire life I felt like I wasn’t good enough. My parents loved me, but hated my dreams. My friends loved me, but thought I was a big joke, and my teachers wanted the best for me, but didn’t think I could buckle down. My entire fucking life, Peaches, no one ever thought I was good enough, strong enough, or man enough. Except you.”

  I walked her over to the vanity, and set her down. Somehow I didn’t think standing would be a good idea for what I had to say next.

  “When you left this in reception, I was fucking mortified. A little girl loved me. Pfft, no way. You were like my annoying kid sister. But I didn’t have the heart to throw it out. I think maybe, just knowing that someone was out there who loved me for me, and not for what I could do with my brain, forced me to keep it. I took it with me to Europe. When I had down days, I would open it up and smile, knowing my klutzy, kid sister was back in the US, probably stuck in a school book. When I met my ex, I put this away, knowing she probably wouldn’t like it.”

  “When I came back, I was broken. Europe had taught me a valuable lesson, and I swore off girls the second I stepped off the plane. My first day back, I opened up my suitcase, and somehow this book fell out at my feet. I knew I had zipped up the pocket that it had been kept in, but by some miracle, the zipper must have broken in transit, and there on the floor, wide open, was your words. It helped heal me a little, although I didn’t know it at the time.”

  “Every night for the first few weeks, I would examine page after page. Little notes you wrote to me in the margins. Little heart scribbles. Even your first name attached to my last. It always made me happy, and when my mom told me you were coming to intern at the firm, I was ecstatic, but I was so fucking scared.”

  “Why were you scared?” Megan asked, her eyes overflowing with tears.

  “I was scared that the girl inside these pages,” I said, holding up the book, “had moved on and found someone else to give her love and heart scribbles to. I was scared that you had forgotten about me.”

  “Never,” she said, wiping her eyes.

  “The first day I saw you, I couldn’t believe my eyes. The little rugrat that had followed me around had turned into a succulent, beautiful woman, and when I saw you in my office, bent over, trying to find your earring, I knew I had to have you.”

  “You didn’t even remember my name,” she laughed.

  “Oh, I remembered, Peaches. How could I ever forget? Now, don’t interrupt. I’m not done. Over the past few months, I’ve found myself looking through this book over and over again, and I always find something I missed the first, second, or third time through, and when we moved into this place, I knew there was something I needed to add to this, so your story, could become our story.”

  With shaky hands, I handed her the book. She looked up at me with a question in her eyes, but I just nodded. I watched as she opened it with both hands, as she let the book fall open to the middle, marked by the attached bookmark ribbon, and then I sunk to one knee, naked as the day I was born.

  “This is my favorite page, Megan. It’s the page you wrote your ridiculously silly childhood vows. It’s the place I wrote mine back to you, and the page where I asked you the question I’ve been dying to for weeks, possibly years.”

  With tears in both of our eyes, I grabbed the piece of ribbon nestled along the internal spine, and untied the ring I hoped she would wear.

  “Megan Nicole Reese, I love you more than Ice Cream and Jelly Beans,” I quoted her written vows. “I love you more than Mr. Bear loves Misses Rabbit, and more than Ron Weasley loved Hermione Granger. I want to be your waffley- wedding husband. Will you do me the great honor of becoming my waffley-wedding wife?”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Megan

  Nothing in my entire life had been as perfect as that moment. I remembered the joy I had on my sixteenth birthday when I got my first car. I remembered the excitement of leaving for college, and I remembered the moment I was accepted to Harvard. None of those memories would ever be able to compete with Spencer asking me to marry him.

  It was impossible for the neighbors to not hear my screamed answer. “YES! YES! YES!” As I leaped onto Spencer and threw my arms around him, he slipped the ring onto my finger. It was absolutely perfect.

  I didn’t need the world, or the most expensive diamond, and Spencer knew that. The ring was a platinum band, the front of the band had a loop encrusted in diamonds. It was unusual, unique, and perfect for me.

  Being asked for my hand in marriage was already unexpected, but what was more unexpected was what Spencer told me next. He didn’t just want to marry me, but he wanted to marry me as soon as possible. We were playing hooky the rest of the week and Spencer pledged to give me the wedding of my dreams in Savannah, where I’d wanted to get married since I was a little girl.

  The ride down to Savannah from Atlanta was amazing. Spencer and I were best friend
s and could find the fun in anything, even a four hour drive. He serenaded me in his terrible, but adorable, singing voice and we talked about our future together. At the other end of the trip waited where I’d become Mrs. Spencer Grant.

  Arriving in Savannah, I gaped out of the windows at the gorgeous southern city. It was one of the most beautiful places I’d ever been and I’d be starting my future there.

  “I haven’t been here in years,” I commented to him as I thought of being a skinny teenage girl the last time I’d come. “Do you remember I would spend a couple weeks down here every summer?” I asked him while he navigated the streets.

  “I do,” he answered, his hand rubbing my leg.

  “I haven’t been since I was seventeen and I was thirteen the last summer I spent here. That was the year grandma had her stroke, so dad and Aunt Clara put her in a home. That ended my summers with grandma down here. My parents would always pick me up on their way down to Sea Island for your parent’s Fourth of July bash,” I explained to him, remembering how I’d go from sipping iced tea on my grandma’s porch to running around the beach, trying to get Spencer’s attention.

  “We’re here,” he commented as he pulled the car in front of a gorgeous old building. I gasped at how picturesque it was. “It was built in 1873.”

  “Spencer and his random knowledge,” I joked before kissing him on the cheek.

  “Keeps you entertained, doesn’t it?”

  “It does. It’s one of my favorite things about you,” I noted sweetly as he parked the car.

  My heart was pounding as I knew absolutely nothing about what would happen. Spencer told me everything was taken care of and to trust him, which I did, with my life.

  “We have separate rooms tonight,” he told me as we approached the front door of the historic hotel. I groaned in response. Spencer chuckled and put his arm around my waist before pulling me close.

  “Only for tonight, Peaches. By tomorrow night, you’ll be my wife.” He leaned in close, his lips sensually touching my ear. “And legally, your pussy will be mine to fuck until we’re kicked out of the hotel because of your screaming.”

  I bit down hard on my lip and nodded in response. Goodness, Spencer had freed me from some prison because, upon release, I was a rabid animal who craved his touch and lived for the pleasure he provided me with.

  Checking into the hotel, Spencer and I dropped off our things and changed, before going to the courthouse to get a marriage license, and then out to dinner. I loved strolling hand in hand with him as we finished up. We had nowhere to be and could relish in our last moments together as boyfriend and girlfriend.

  “I’ve never been happier,” I cooed to him as I leaned in closer, his arm around my shoulder. I peered up into his eyes, just making out their sapphire color in the setting sunlight.

  “That’s all I want. I just want you happy. I couldn’t want anything else. Who knew? You were like my kid sister. You were annoying and sweet and somehow, you fell in love with me. Somehow, I got to be the luckiest guy on the planet.” There were tears in his eyes, just like when he proposed.

  My heart caught in my throat and I had no words. The only words I had were the three that Spencer knew. I pressed my face to his shirt, inhaling the scent I’d remembered from being a cold little girl and him putting his leather jacket over my shoulders.

  Composing myself, I glanced back up into his smiling face. I stood on my toes and pecked his lips. That feeling I got whenever we kissed, it spread through my limbs and I felt, with him, something I’d never felt growing up.

  “Spencer, you’re my family. I never felt at home with my parents, but with you, I can be anywhere and feel at home,” I admitted to him as his thumb wiped my tears away.

  “I can say the exact same thing,” he told me as he laced his fingers with mine and pulled me along. “Speaking of family,” he began.

  “Mmmhmm.”

  “I can’t wait to start one with you. Fuck, you’re going to be a great mom and just think of how excited my mom will be to have more grandkids. I want one of each, a boy and a girl, but I think I’ve told you that before.” When Spencer spoke about kids, he always got excited. I grinned, imagining us in our house with two little rugrats running around. We’d add their heights to the wooden beam in the hall and have family picnics in the backyard on warm summer days.

  “What would you name them? That, you never told me.” I was eager to know what baby names Spencer had in mind.

  “I’d name a girl Alexis Nicole. Obviously, Nicole like your middle name. I bet she’d look just like you, beautiful,” he cooed as he gushed about our possible future children. It made my heart swell, he’d be the best dad. I can imagine Spencer getting into just as much trouble as the kids. “For a boy, I like Oliver Michael. How about you?”

  “Aww, I love Olivier. We can call him Ollie for short. I think he’d have your color hair, but it’d likely be curly and I see him with glasses,” I giggled, thinking about an adorable little nerdy boy who took after his dad in the IQ department. “For a girl, Alexis is okay, but I like Bianca.”

  “Bianca is nice, too.” Spencer kissed the top of my head.

  We passed a gorgeous park I remembered visiting as a kid, all the flowers in full bloom and the willow trees basking a protection over the land. I remembered it always feeling like a magical place, out of a storybook. There was a beautiful white gazebo in the middle of the path.

  “See that gazebo,” Spencer said as he pointed across the street to the park. I nodded in response. “That’s where you become my wife tomorrow.”

  “Really?” I questioned, feeling that excitement I had when he’d originally asked me.

  “Really, Peaches.”

  We’d arrived back at our hotel and Spencer walked me to my room. I leaned against the frame of the door, not wanting to go in by myself, but wanting his arms around me all night as they’d been the past few weeks.

  He leaned in close and brushed my lips with his own, sending a spark through me. I was aching for him, my body practically pleading to be touched, and to be tenderly loved.

  “And why separate rooms?” I asked.

  “It’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding,” he said in a whisper before he kissed me deeply. I moaned as my arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him in closer.

  “Let’s break tradition,” I groaned as he began to pull away. I pouted as he shook his head at me.

  “No, tonight, we start our traditions and I want to start it this way. The next time I kiss you, you’ll be my wife and I’ll be your husband.”

  I couldn’t not smile at that sentiment. I’d always wanted to have a family that had their traditions, unlike mine. I wanted us to have dinner together every night, play board games one night a week, walk the kids to school every morning, have the entire family over on Christmas eve, open gifts at the crack of dawn, and love one another until the end of time.

  “I love you,” I said as he let my hand go. His eyes studied me as his girlfriend for the last time.

  “Love you too, always, until my dying breath.” He blew me a kiss, that I playfully caught and placed into the pocket of my jeans. Spencer laughed at my silly behavior. I’d hear that laugh until death did us part.

  I took a deep breath and turned to my door slowly. Opening my room, I slipped inside and gave Spencer a wave before I closed the door behind me.

  Flipping on the lights, I kicked off my shoes and went toward the bed, when something caught my eye. Hanging from the wardrobe was a dress and, not just any dress, a wedding dress. It was exactly how I’d imagined my dream dress in my head.

  The entire dress was an ivory lace. It was delicate and old fashioned. Not waiting to try it on, I stripped from my clothes and pulled on the beautiful gown. The neckline was high, but my back was completely exposed in a V. Tears glistened in my eyes as I spotted a shoe box on the vanity with a card on top.

  I opened the card to find a note from the one I’d be saying, “I do” to while wearin
g the dress I’d found.

  My Dearest Megan (Yes, Megan, not Peaches),

  Nothing in my life has ever made sense until you. I want to give you the day you’ve always dreamed of. I hope you like the dress but, knowing you, my classy woman, I know you will.. Tomorrow morning, breakfast will be delivered to you. After, a hairdresser and makeup artist will arrive to get you ready. Be downstairs at one o’clock to be brought to me. I cannot wait to see you for the first time and I cannot wait to make you Mrs. Spencer Grant, my waffley-wedding wife.

  Loving you always,

  Spencer

  I wiped my tears away as I read his note and giggled at his mention of my kiddie vows. Tomorrow, my life started for real. The rest was just the opening act, tomorrow it all became my reality, the one I’d dreamed about since I was a little girl. Wearing the dress of my dreams, I’d be marrying the guy I used to pretend I was kissing when kissing my pillows.

  * * *

  At 8 AM sharp, room service was at my door, delivering breakfast. It was all of my favorites, French Toast with strawberries and whipped cream, bacon, sausage, and scrambled eggs. Spencer knew me too well.

  I finished breakfast and took a shower. By the time I was out of the shower, the hairdresser arrived. I sipped on mimosas while getting my hair done. I felt like a pampered princess. Though I’d lived my life pampered, there was something different about having the man I loved taking care of it for me.

  “I feel beautiful,” I commented as the makeup artist finished.

  My heart pounded as I was zipped into my dress and gave myself a final lookover. My hair was up in an elegant bun to allow my back to show. My makeup was light with a tint of pink on my lips. Holding back my tears, I nodded to the women who helped put me together for my special day.

  Walking down the staircase, the heels of the shoes Spencer had also gotten me clicked on the wooden stairs. Arriving in the lobby, cheers came from all the hotel employees and a few of the guests. I blushed at the attention. Yes, I was a dancer and thrived on performing, but there was something different about that and being on stage. When being the center of attention off stage, I was shy.