Submission Specialist(Still a Bad Boy #2)(13)

“Austin? Skylar? We’re ready for you, could you hurry up plea… oh. Sorry. Um… just come on out… uh… please.”

The door shut again in a hurry, and Austin looked like he was weighing up some options.

“Saved by the bell, eh?” He moved his lips close to my ear. “You are a sexy little fuck waiting to happen. Mark my words, you will beg for my cock before this is through.”

With that, he let me go and headed towards the door as I swayed a little to keep my balance. He closed it behind him, leaving me alone in the room again where either it or my head was definitely spinning.

I stumbled to the table, to my handbag, feeling like I’d just jumped off the railway tracks before the train came through, and pulled out a handkerchief. Pausing to make sure the empty room was really empty, as if there was anywhere that anybody could hide, I quickly stroked it up the inside of my left thigh, where a single trickle of my natural lubricants was cutting a tickly trail towards my knee.

This was crazy. I should stop this right now before his prophecy came true. He was going to make me do everything I’d been trying to avoid my whole life if he had his way. And if things kept on going like this… I was going to beg him to do it.





Chapter 8

Austin

Holy matrimony blah, blah, blah, cherish forever fucking yadda-yadda-yadda. The second I got Skylar alone in that honeymoon suite, that’s when the real celebrations would begin.

How she managed to avoid me enough to keep that precious virginity intact this long, I was still trying to fathom. The worst part of it was that I couldn’t fuck around with other women in the meantime.

If the press got wind of me going balls-deep in Ariana, for example, well, that would blow my new nice guy image right out of the water, and there went the title shot with it. Tonight though, in that honeymoon suite, I was going to fucking erupt. It was going to be like Mount Cum-more in there.

I hoped Skylar survived until morning, because fucking my virgin bride to death would probably be contrary to the image Robbie Johnson was trying to foster too. Damned if I was going to hold back, though.

I’d never gone for this long without fucking ever since I started, and it was driving me crazy. It wasn’t helping my predicament that Skylar looked like sex on legs.

When I saw her walking down the aisle, a couple of things struck me. First, it was strange that she didn’t have anybody walking with her, giving her away.

Second, I was glad I’d called Robbie a cheap fuck and chipped in some of my own cash so Skylar could get a wedding dress from a different designer than the one who had made her Tier-2 Sports Therapy uniform.

Perhaps it was for the best that she walked down the aisle by herself. She was so fucking hot that anybody walking with her might have withered away like a vampire in the sunshine.

She was so shy that she didn’t meet anybody’s eyes as she walked except mine, and even that was only the most fleeting of glances. It made me rock-hard knowing that under that form-fitting, pristine-white dress was a tight little virgin pussy that I was going to have all to myself after weeks of waiting.

For her part, Skylar looked like she was slowly, agonizingly, letting herself get swept away in the fantasy of it all. When people told her how beautiful she was, she tentatively thanked them, but it seemed like she was always waiting for a backhanded insult to follow the compliments.

That cloud that crossed her face whenever she might be in danger of feeling good gradually cleared, and this smile that could end empires took a hold. I’d never seen anything like that kind of joy before.

The guest list consisted of a few friends of mine, a bunch of people organized by Robbie and the NHBFC, like fighters from other weight divisions that I’d never get to fuck up, and their families, and some star-struck girls from Skylar’s college. Some of those girls were going to be living out some fantasies tonight if I was reading the situation right, and I was.

I gave Skylar her first dance for the mandatory photo opportunities, and then hung back because fuck that shit. Skylar cut some shapes out there on the dancefloor with her friends, but came over to me if another guy danced too close for her comfort, as if for some reassurance about something.

To my surprise, whatever distance was too close for Skylar’s comfort was actually further than mine. Heel-face turn or not, I’d have snapped anybody’s neck if they had the audacity to try and pull anything at my motherfucking wedding, even if it was a fake marriage.

As early as was humanly possible, I bundled Skylar off to the limo and climbed in after her. At last, after I put up the privacy window between us and the driver, I had her alone again.

I saw her wringing her hands in front of her, her purity ring now gone and replaced by my ring. She was wearing that little piece of jewelry that proclaimed to the whole world she was mine, and all that was left to do was for me to claim her.