Page 22 of Accepted Precedent
“It doesn’t matter.” Evie crosses her arms over her chest and pins him with a glare. “You’ve been an asshole to me all week. I don’t want you anywhere near my pussy.”
I shrug off my jacket and toss it aside. “Then hop on and fuck my face. Consider it an early wedding present.”
“Andy!”
“What? It’s just sex. It could be fun.”
“Fun? Do you hear yourself? We’re gettingmarriedtoday. Mar-ried.” She pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs. “I can’t talk to you about this while your cock is out.”
“You’ve seen me naked a million times.”
“Not after you asked me to take your tongue for a joyride!” she groans, and I let out a full laugh. “This isn’t funny.”
“This may be the last time I touch either of you for a very long time,” Mick growls, his commanding tone making my cock twitch in his hand. “If you won’t fuck his face, then let mewatch you touch yourself while I take care of your soon-to-be husband.”
“No. Andrew and I made a promise that we aren’t going to sleep with anyone until we get divorced. Just because he broke that promise doesn’t mean I get to.”
Mick stands and stalks toward her. She holds her ground, and as he reaches her, he bends and lifts her over his shoulder, then tosses her on the bed. “You’re going to be a good fucking girl for Daddy and let me see you come one last time before you walk down the aisle. You pick how, but I want that pretty pussy fucking glistening—either from his mouth or my cock.”
“Hey,” I say softly, turning her chin to face me. “Let me make you feel good. Say ‘Brussel sprout’ and I stop.”
“Are you sure about this? It seems like a really stupid idea. What if you, I don’t know, catch feelings?”
“He probably will,” Mick insists.
“I won’t, but he might.”
She contemplates it for a moment, then unbuttons her jeans. “Okay. Just this once. Then we go back to normal and never speak of it again.”
There’s nothing normal about any of this, but I agree with a nod. My hope is this little bonding exercise will help us be more comfortable with each other when we’re in public. After today, my cock is staying in my pants, and there is no vibrator I could buy her that would match sleeping with Mick.
Two years. We can handle two years.
Chapter 11
Mickey
How the hell am I going to last years without them when I can’t survive an hour?
Andrew, Evelyn, and I are on a path to destruction. I promised myself I wouldn’t watch them exchange vows, but I couldn’t stop myself, imagining being in either of their shoes. With every minute, my heart darkens, and I question what the point of any of this is when we’re all in pain.
Is it even worth it?
I return to their hotel room, unable to stomach watching them pretend to be in love for staged photographs, and spot a book on the small desk in the corner—a copy of Jane Austen’sPersuasion. I read it when I was younger but can’t recall much about the story. I skim the summary on the back, and hope blooms in my chest that it could be left intentionally.
Settling into the side chair, I open to the title page and find a handwritten note with one word—no author:
Enjoy.
Enjoy? Based on the premise, there’s hardly anything I would find enjoyable about this book. Who the hell enjoys heartbreak and being away from the person they love for years? I thumb through a few more pages until the first chapter. Curiosity gets the best of me, and I begin the story of Anne Elliot and Captain Wentworth.
After the first two chapters, I close the novel, and bring it with me to my room. Once inside, I pour myself a couple fingers of whiskey and settle into the story again. Several hours later, I’m enthralled and can’t put it down. The pain, the love, the struggle with responsibility. All of it pulls me in. I flip back to the first page with the note, chuckling to myself—it has to be my devious angel who left it for me to find. I avoid ruining the ending book by skipping to the last page like I typically do, and spend the next several hours reading, jotting notes in the margins as I go.
Every time a guest passes my room, my stomach drops and heart jumps out of my fuckin’ chest. It’s never Evelyn or Andrew. Still, I keep reading until the last chapter.
The story rips my heart out. In a perfect world, I could love them both freely, without obligations or consequences. If I have any say in it, I sure as hell am not going to wait nearly a decade to be with them.
The resort is quiet, and my soul shatters as I realize I’m both right and wrong, and my bed will be cold for the foreseeable future.
