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Authors: Liz Crowe

Tags: #General Fiction

Mutual Release (53 page)

BOOK: Mutual Release
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But the other man just held out the horrible excuse for a suit. “No, I’m not. Get changed. We just had your bachelor party.”

* * * *

Evan climbed out of the limo into the empty parking lot of his own beer bar. He squinted, still woozy from booze and shock. He tugged at the too-short sleeves of the disgusting jacket, tried to look calm or in any way prepared for this. All the while acknowledging that his heart was light and the relief that Julie had arranged all of this, so they would finally be husband and wife, made him want to high-five the universe.

Jack smacked him on the back. “Let’s go get this over with, shall we?”

“You are such an asshole.” But Evan could not stop smiling. Then he stopped, looked around again. “Why is this parking lot empty on the busiest day of the week?”

Jack rolled his eyes. “Will you just relax and roll with it? Jesus, these women have been killing themselves making this happen, and I just worked my ass off for the last…,” he glanced at his heavy Rolex, “… twelve hours, distracting you.”

Evan took a breath, put his hand on the Tap Room door and opened it. It was pitch black, but a whiff of something unfamiliar hit his nose. Just when he was reaching for the light switch the room blazed to life.


Confetti hit him right in the face, making him splutter. A band fired up at the stage end of the room, and “Highway to Hell” by AD/DC blasted his ears. And the soapy smell he’d caught finally had an explanation, as the room was awash in bubbles blasting out from behind his bar. He grinned, eyes darting through the crowd of Dawson people, Big House people. He spotted Amy, a tall, good-looking guy he didn’t recognize and assumed was James, and Sara.

The women were dressed in what could politely be called “vintage prom dresses” but were more like “embarrassing prom dress errors.” Amy’s was a puce color, with giant puffy shoulder straps and a huge Scarlett O’Hara bell skirt. Sara’s looked like the color of dried blood, and was a cheap, satiny-looking fabric with a V-neck and a giant ugly brooch. They had their hair done up big-hair-style, held fast with probably three cans of hairspray each. They held bouquets of obviously-fake silk flowers.

Evan let the sights, sounds, and smells assault all his senses. Then grinned, sticking his hands in his pockets. Jack walked past him, holding his clasped hands up in victory as the room exploded with applause. He was handed two giant holy-grail-like cups, one of which he gave to Evan. The song ended, the room quieted. Jack held up his tacky chalice of beer.

“To my friend, Evan Adams. May this night end the way you wish…” He trailed off, looked around. Everyone leaned in expectantly. “Well, yeah. That’s it, really.” The group laughed and took a drink.

Sara appeared at Jack’s side, whispered in his ear. Evan watched, still bleary from all the alcohol he’d already consumed, as his friend’s eyes sharpened when he looked at the woman. Evan made a mental note to beat some sense into Jack when this was all done, so the two of them would get their act together and make the family everyone around knew they both wanted but would not admit.

Jack kissed Sara once, in a serious enough fashion to make the room whoop and holler, then sent her on her way before turning back to Evan. “And now, my friend, your destiny awaits you. Please, join me, with our officially ordained Rasta priest.”

Evan followed Jack to the front of the room that had been rearranged to represent a chapel, complete with a rickety-looking wooden arched trellis, under which stood a giant man, none other than Kyle Summerlin himself, dressed in bright robes and wearing a wig of dreadlocks that hung down to his ass. He held Buddy the cat in his arms.

“Holy shit,” Evan said, as Kyle began talking in a fake accent somewhere between a stoned Bob Marley and a hyper Kid Rock. Evan groaned and let himself be positioned between Kyle and Jack. The band fired up again, some cheese-ball Lionel Richie tune which made the whole place break into song.

Evan grinned like an idiot, unable to stop, as Katie, Sara’s daughter, came down the aisle tossing rose petals until she reached Jack and declared herself “all done” and ran back the other way, squealing for her Uncle Blake. Sara was next, on her brother Blake’s arm – the once-lovesick young man and Evan’s first brewmaster looked older and happier now. He gave Evan a firm handshake before taking his place on the other side of Jack.

Amy waltzed down next on the arm of Jack’s buddy and Blake’s lover, Rob Frietag. The exceedingly tall and handsome blond man smiled, shook Evan’s hand, and stood beside Blake. They were all dressed in the same ghastly version of Evan’s and Jack’s powder-blue tux.

Evan gulped, turned to Jack as the band stopped and a single man rose, clutching an accordion. “I don’t have – ” he whispered. But Jack cut him off, winking and patting his tux pocket. The hokey instrument wheezed the first notes of the bridal march, and everyone stood.

Evan turned his head slowly, feeling every creak and pop of his muscles and tendons. A couple stood at the brewery door, backlit so Evan could barely see them. He did see that the bride wore white – blaring white – lace, with sparkling fake gems covering the obnoxious dress. As they came into view, however, everything dropped off of Evan’s radar but the woman smiling at him from under the long veil complete with a paste jewelry tiara. He watched her approach, as his ears buzzed, suddenly sober as a judge. His knees shook, and he must have listed to the left, since he felt Jack propping him up.

Julie looked like she wore expensive couture instead of the horrific tablecloth masquerading as a wedding dress. She was perfect, flawless. When he realized it was none other than James Dawson himself escorting her down the aisle, Evan shivered as a sudden panic hit him, blooming through his chest. But then she was here, and James was hugging him, slapping him on the back and wishing him “a shit-ton of luck because you are so gonna need it with this one.”

And Julie stood holding a bouquet of ugly, blood-colored fake roses, eyes cast down. The room disappeared. There were only the two of them. He stepped into her space, lifted her veil. “Look at me,” he whispered, unable to stop himself.

“Whoa, hang on there, mon,” the fake Rasta priest intoned when Evan swept her into his arms and kissed her so hard even he saw stars. “You takin’ dis ting too fast!” The room laughed, clapped, cat-called, and when Julie reached around and cupped his ass, that really set the group off.

Finally, he let go of her and ran a finger down her tear-streaked face. “I love you,” he said. Then turned to Kyle, whose wig had slid to the right, giving him an even more stoned look. “Hurry, before she changes her mind.” He held out a hand, and Jack dropped two heavy, matching platinum bands in it.

“I do,” Julie yelped when he smacked her ass under the layers of ugly dress.

“I know you do,” he whispered into her ear, his body suddenly ready for a different sort of activity.

“All right, cut out the shit and let me do dis here ting,” Kyle roared over the laughter. “Put da ring on her, mon! Say dese here words.” Which he did, barely remembering them as he drowned in her blue eyes. “Now, your turn, young lady.” She slipped his ring on him and he stared at it, memorizing its heft and contours.

“Hey!” Julie gasped as Sara clapped one half of a set of metal handcuffs on her wrist at the same time Jack shackled Evan with the other half. Sara’s eyes brimmed with tears as she hugged Julie. Jack slapped Evan’s back, then stepped away, keeping his gaze trained on Sara. Evan smiled at his wife, threaded his fingers through hers, and lifted their cuffed hands high in the air, to much cheering.

After signing official papers brought from the county courthouse by one of their old law school buddies, just like that it was official. He was finally married to the love of his life. “Now,” Kyle said, holding a giant fake doobie over them as if he were going to knight them with it, “by the pow-ah vested in me by all you fine, fine people hee-yah today…these two stubborn, annoying friends of ours are finally fucking hitched!” He put a kazoo to his lips and blew, and the room became a cacophony of noise as they were serenaded while Evan kissed Julie. And kissed her and kissed her, until Jack tapped his shoulder.

“Dude, as much as I would pay to watch this show, you gotta save something for later. Let’s party!”

* * * *

The room exploded with cheers once more. They drank beer, ate burgers, and hung out as long as Julie could stand it. Every time she looked at Evan – her husband – her body sang out with need. It was a compulsion the likes of which she had never felt. Every nerve ending she possessed trembled and her thighs weakened when he raised an eyebrow at her and leaned to her ear.

“Somebody needs something from me, I’m guessing. You are thrumming like a horny livewire, my love. What should we do about it?” He bit her earlobe. She grabbed his thigh under the cheap polyester. He’d unlocked his half of the cuffs, but she kept hers on, dangling from her left wrist.

“Get me out of here and fuck me. Before I explode. How’s that for a plan?” She yanked off the veil, reached down and ripped the lower half of the obnoxious wedding dress off, leaving her clad in a short version of it.

He leaned back, gave her a strange, wary look, but she just ran her tongue over her lips and ignored whatever warning signals he was giving.

“Could get messy. Just saying,” she whispered.

He grinned and the brief awkward moment dissipated. As he stood and picked her up, tossing her over his shoulder like a sack of malt, he called out to the crowd, “My blushing bride has indicated I must take care of some business.” The group clapped and whistled as he made his way through the bar and into the brewery, smacking her ass the whole way. He climbed the short flight of steps to his office and tossed her down on the ratty couch he kept in there so he could have staff meetings “not at a table.”

“Now… let’s see if I can recall how you like this.” He yanked off his coat, shoved up her skirt, and dove down to lick and suck at her bare sex. She draped her legs over his shoulders and tilted her hips, needing more, now. “Mmm…,” he moaned as her body prepared itself for release. “Now, baby, come now,” he muttered, pressing two fingers deep inside her as he kept up exquisite suction on her clit.

“Ah, God!” she yelled, clapping a hand over her mouth. The orgasm felt full of potential, and her body pulsed around his fingers. “Ah… More like it,” she said smiling, as he stood, wiping his lips and staring at her. “What?”

But he stayed silent as he tugged his blue tuxedo trousers off and stood over her, the magnificence of his body making her breath catch in her throat.

“Please, Sir. I want this.” She tugged his boxers down, wrapped her palm around his warm, hard flesh. “Inside me, Evan. I need it so badly… it hurts.”

He pulled her to her feet, threaded his fingers in her hair, and parted her lips with his tongue, rough, urgent, and she met him halfway, their mutual need coiling around them, suffusing the room with a rich, purposeful aura.

She kept sliding her hand along his thick shaft, making him move his hips against her as they kissed. She pushed him down on the couch, straddled his lap and lowered herself over his cock, slowly, feeling him spread her body inch by glorious inch. He ripped the top of the horrible wedding dress, sending buttons and fake jewels flying all over the room, and tore her bra in his haste to get at her breasts as she ground against him. He was sunk deep, his thick head caressing her G-spot. She moaned and lifted up as he grabbed a nipple between his lips and teeth. The raw urgency of the moment blinded her as she moved up and down. He dug his fingers into her hips, kept sucking and biting her nipples and she felt it – a monster climax – as if her body was going to lift off and take flight.

“Fucking-A, Julie. I’m gonna blow, baby. Sorry, I can’t stop…,” he ground out, his face pressed into her breasts. “You are… it’s not… oh hell…” He picked her up as she wrapped her legs around him and walked them over to the desk before laying her back and looming over her. “Come with me,” he commanded, as he pounded into her, the connection rough and primal.

She felt him tense up as her own orgasm blinded her with its intensity. The room dimmed, and all she knew was her man, her husband. Finally, they calmed, still connected, lying on his giant desk. He kissed her lips, cheeks, nose.

“Mmm… thanks for the surprise.” He pulled out of her, stood and helped her up. “I have one too, if you must know.” He handed her a brewery t-shirt off the shelf to cover the destroyed top of her dress. Then held out a key.

She looked at it, confused. It was too big to unlock the cuff still dangling from her left wrist.

“Your kingdom, my queen. I bought a house.”

* * * *

Evan tried to catch his breath, to process what had just happened. Fucking around in his office was not what he’d wanted to do at all. At Jack’s insistence on their way from the strip club, he had reserved a room for them later at The Suite and had planned to give her the house key then. Jack suggested it. A little sneaky, getting her into a submissive position, then laying the house key thing on her, but hopefully it would ward off the worst of a classic Julie meltdown.

But this had been so – He cast around for a word, but his orgasm-addled brain wouldn’t cooperate. The confusion on her face at the sight of the key faded, and something he didn’t much care for settled in its place. She tugged the tee down over her bare breasts and used some tissues to clean herself up while staring at him. “You bought what house?”

“The one you wanted.”

She frowned, took the key and palmed it. The look on her beautiful, well-fucked face did not bode well for his announcement. He tried to hold his temper as she spoke, making sense, he knew, but pissing him off at the same time. “Evan, we only looked at five houses. And I thought we were going to wait, you know, for rates to come down and… I don’t know, just wait a while on that.”

“I know which one you liked, so I jumped. Once we sell the two other places we can re-fi – ”

“Whoa, just hang on there a second.” She leaned back on the desk, her stubborn game face on. “I don’t like this kind of surprise. For the record. This is something we need to do together, don’t you think?”

BOOK: Mutual Release
8.95Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

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