Birthday Bride Read Free

to bed with me, a little voice inside my head said, and keep me nice
and warm.  And it wouldn’t be wrong, because he was my husband.
    Mark
set two pieces of paper, somewhat worse for wear, on our laps.  Sure enough,
our names and signatures were on the marriage license and certificate.
    “But...
how?”
    “Have
you been a witness to a marriage before?” He asked gently.
    I
shook my head.  “This was the first time I was in a wedding.  I’ve been to a
bunch, but just as someone in the pews.  You?”
    He
also had only sat in on weddings, not participated.  “You thought it was ‘witness’
paperwork too, huh?”
    I
did a wry grin.  “It was late, and I was exhausted.  I looked for my name so I
could be sure I was signing in the right place, but that was it.  I just wanted
to get them married so I could come back and crash.  It had been a very long
day.”
    “Happy
birthday, again,” Mark smiled, and nudged me with his shoulder.  “At least it’ll
be easy to remember our anniversary.”
    “Or
it’ll be doubly bad when you forget,” I joked right back.  My head flopped back
onto the couch.  What was I thinking? Laughing about how we would be years from
now on our anniversary? This wasn’t a real marriage, it was a joke! Neither of
us meant to be married.  “What do we do now? Can we get divorced as quickly as
we got married? I presume we have grounds for an annulment, since neither of us
intended to get married.  Would that be better or easier to get?”
    “We
could not,” Mark suggested.  “No, hear me out,” he started when I opened my
mouth to interrupt.
    “No.”
Wow, that was quickly becoming my favorite word.  “A minute ago you were
banging on the door, pissed at being married.  Now you’re trying to change your
mind?”
    He
glanced down at my thankfully-blanket covered legs.
    “Seriously?
You’re that much of a dog?” The irritated look on his face should have stopped
me.  It wasn’t wise, but I continued on.  “A turn of a lady’s ankle is enough
for you to propose marriage? The bare hint of what may be above turns you on?”
I flipped the blanket above my knees.  “Oh no, now you’ve seen calves.  I’m
surprised you haven’t burst into flames yet.”
    Mark
shifted on the couch, suddenly facing me, and captured my mouth in a
toe-curling kiss.  When we parted for air, I blinked, open mouthed.
    “May
I continue?”
    I
nodded, not able to say anything.
    “This
is a first marriage for both of us, obviously.”
    Drat,
I was hoping he wanted to continue the kissing, not the talking. 
    “There
are certain... advantages to staying married.”
    “No,
that’s illegal!” He lifted a confused eyebrow.  “I saw a story on the news,
just the other day.  A couple of soldiers were court-martialed and thrown in
jail for getting married for the housing benefits increase.  You’re a soldier. 
We got married.  I can do the math.  I’m not doing it.”
    He
kissed me again, thoroughly.  When he finally pulled away, he said, “That was
the kind of benefit I was thinking of.”
    “So
I was right the first time?” He narrowed his eyes, but let me keep talking.  “You
just want easy access to the sex.”
    “Okay,
first of all–well, stop.  I’m sorry to be blunt, but are you a virgin?”
    I
wasn’t sure if I was more shocked he asked the question, or more embarrassed by
the answer.  I’m not sure how it happened, but me trying to get off the couch
and across the room turned into a wrestling match that ended with me under Mark
on the couch.  The blanket had fallen to the floor in the scuffle, and my
husband’s denim-clad thigh was pressed between my bare legs, the warmth and
closeness a new sensation to my upper thighs and privates.
    “Well
that answers that,” he said lightly.  “Now will you listen?”
    I
tried squirming, and Mark ran a hand up under my shirt, resting it on my ribs,
his thumb barely touching the underside of a breast.  If I squirmed