Bride by Sara Fields

Chapter 6

“Grayson Asher and Zoe Parker, have you come here freely and without reservation to give yourselves to each other in marriage?”

I stared at the priest blankly. I wondered if he knew how this whole ceremony had unfolded, how I’d walked into the building this morning and had been forced down the aisle to become Grayson’s bride by sunset. I sighed and looked out over his shoulder, seeing the sparkling glint of the rolling waves along the beach in the distance. It was as though I could hear them, each crashing roar of water hitting sand and stone, and a strange calm came over me.

“Yes. I do,” Grayson said firmly.

They were waiting for me to give my agreement, but I wasn’t here freely, nor was I here without reservation. No. I was here by force.

“I do,” I echoed. My voice came out sounding kind of flat.

The priest looked like a kind man with soft eyes. He was maybe in his early sixties, but the wrinkles along his eyes told me he’d led a happy life, a full life, and I absentmindedly wondered if I would be able to as well after today.

The whole thing was absurdly surreal.

“Will you each honor the other as man and wife for the rest of your lives?” the man continued.

“I will cherish her as my wife every day,” Grayson replied. He took my hands in his and gently turned me to face him. “I will take care of what’s mine.”

Men like this weren’t real. They didn’t talk like that. Men like him only existed in the movies.

“I will honor him as my husband,” I said softly, but I didn’t believe the words even though I said them.

“Are you ready to take your vows, Mr. Asher?” the priest asked, and Grayson’s firm gaze held mine with a steadiness that I couldn’t bring myself to look away from.

“I am,” he exclaimed firmly. His mouth set in a hard line and butterflies fluttered deep inside my core.

“Please repeat after me then. I, Grayson Asher, take you, Zoe Parker, to be my wife. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love and honor you all the days of my life,” the priest recited expectantly.

Grayson squeezed my fingers tight as he began to echo the priest’s words. He spoke with such determined resolution that I found myself caught on the edge of each syllable. His vow resonated deep within the depths of my soul. He never looked away once. He said every word as if he meant them and for the moment, I allowed myself to believe him, that he was saying them for me.

Me, of all people.

When he was finished, the priest turned to me expectantly.

“Dr. Parker, are you ready to say your vows?” he asked.

“I am,” I whispered.

“I, Dr. Zoe Parker, take you, Grayson Asher, to be my husband. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love and honor and obey you all the days of my life,” the priest recited.

It wasn’t lost on me that my vows included obedience among them.

I swallowed hard, but Grayson was there, and his dark brown eyes were like a comforting embrace filled with warmth and safety. There was a hard edge too, a mysterious darkness shadowing the man beneath.

Curiosity killed the cat, but would my own kill me?

I hummed softly and then I took a leap of faith.

“I, Dr. Zoe Parker, take you, Grayson Asher, to be my husband. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love and honor and obey you all the days of my life,” I repeated.

I narrowed my eyes just slightly when I reached the word ‘obey’ and Grayson’s gaze simply sparkled with dark promise. I couldn’t help but glance down at his hands, squirming just a little when I recalled how his palm could bring pleasure or pain across the expanse of my bare skin.

I lifted my chin proudly and finished reciting my vows. My voice remained strong and when I reached the end, I was rewarded with his smile.

I didn’t realize until then just how perfect it was. His cheeks drew in just a little, exposing two small dimples that were really quite handsomely adorable. I wanted to reach out and touch them, but I held back and squeezed his fingers tighter instead.

The kind man officiating the ceremony passed Grayson a small box. Inside it were two rings. One was an engagement ring with a great big diamond set in platinum. The other was a wedding band made of a series of smaller diamonds, but just as impressive all the same.

It was as if Grayson had known my taste in jewelry long before I’d walked in his door that morning.

He gently pulled my left hand up and slid the engagement ring on my ring finger. The wedding band followed, slipping into place perfectly.

He’d known my ring size too.

The priest handed me a box next. I took it in my hands and opened it to find a simple gold wedding band inside. I licked my lips and pulled it out of its sleeve, hesitantly holding it in my fingers.

It felt so heavy. He offered his hand and my own trembled as I took his much bigger one into mine. His ring seemed to carry the weight of a lifetime.

I slid it gently on his finger.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride,” the priest pronounced, and my mouth went dry. I glanced back at Grayson. He reached for me, and this time I didn’t run. There was a part of me that wanted to, but I pushed it away. His fingers intertwined with mine and he pulled me in. The resistance in me melted away as his hand cupped my cheek. For a moment, he just looked at me as if he was memorizing the contours of my face before he brushed his lips against mine in a kiss far sweeter than I ever would have expected from a man like him. The entire thing felt like the most beautiful dream and a part of me wanted it to never end.

At first, his kiss was a soft caress, gentle and kind and I found myself pressing my body against his. His grip on the side of my face tightened just a bit and his lips grew more persistent, rougher and I lost myself in his firm possession of me. I started to kiss him back just as hard as he did me and that tiny pulse between my thighs that had seemingly faded into a gentle dull ache came roaring back with magnificently brutal force.

The kiss lasted forever yet was over in no time at all. I was almost disappointed when he eventually pulled away from me and I was surprised that a soft whimper flew free from my own mouth. He traced his thumb over my swollen lower lip, staring down at me like I was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. His fingers squeezed mine once more and he led me back down the aisle. I followed behind him, nervously awaiting what came next. Would he take me straight to his bed? Was there something more he had in mind? Would it hurt?

I didn’t know, but I kind of did want to know.

His stride quickened, and I had to walk faster to keep up with him. My heel caught the back of my dress and I stumbled, but he caught me before I fell.

“I apologize. I’d forgotten you were wearing heels,” he explained gently.

There was no cruelty in the way he said those words and I chewed my lip, trying to figure out this man and feeling like I knew him one moment and he swiftly turned into a stranger in the next.

“Thank you for catching me,” I whispered, feeling particularly small and feminine standing before him. It was as though I was a tiny songbird caught in a cage and he was the only one who could open the door to let me out.

“It is the least I could do,” he murmured sheepishly, and I found myself smiling at his honest sincerity. He beamed in my direction, blissful contentment painted across his face, and I looked away, not wanting to face the inquisitiveness inside me that wanted to know more about him. I felt myself blush just the tiniest bit.

He was the perfect gentleman, but I knew there was something darker hidden beneath, a level of depravity that even I couldn’t yet fully grasp and was almost afraid to see.

But…

Maybe there was a part of me that liked that about him. Staring down at the ground, I shook my head. As if he knew I was already lost in my own mind, he cleared his throat, and I lifted my eyes just enough to catch the softness within his.

“I’d like to take you to dinner, my pretty bride. You must be hungry,” he said. He offered an arm, and I hesitantly took it. To be honest, I didn’t have much of a choice.

“I stole some of the cheese in the fridge earlier,” I admitted. There was a part of me that felt quite naughty telling him about that and my pussy clenched a little bit at the thought of what he might do to me later.

On our wedding night.

“I should have thought to put that out with your wine,” he chuckled.

“Well, no one’s perfect,” I sassed, and his laugh deepened.

“I don’t know. Your bottom is utter perfection when it’s bare, bright red, and welted from my belt,” he mused and a quiet mewl of surprise escaped me. I swallowed hard as a hard jolt of pleasure raced straight down to my clit, reminding me that I had yet to come today. If only I could just reach between my legs. It wouldn’t take long for me to give myself exactly what I needed.

He stopped and pulled me close to him. My heart raced as he surrounded me with his massive form, strong and hot and so dangerously seductive.

“You should know that I’m going to take you over my knee tonight and that I’m going to spank that bare bottom bright pink just because I like it that way. Then I’m going to slip my fingers between your thighs and I’m going to find out exactly how soaking wet that gorgeous little pussy is for me. I’m going to look at everything that is mine, my pretty bride, and then I’m going to enjoy all of it,” he murmured, and my legs gave way just enough that I was secretly grateful for his firm hand on my lower back.

Why did that make me react so intensely? It shouldn’t be making me this wet to know a man was going to do such shameful things to me. It should be making me angry, but I was even more aroused.

“Everything?” I whimpered.

“Everything,” he echoed, and I shook hard. There was so much meaning in that simple word. Hesitantly, I took his right hand within both of mine, spreading it open and studying the base of his palm. I ran a single finger across the hard lines of his broad reach, unable to keep the image of his promises of what was to come from my mind. I cried out softly and lifted my gaze to his, only to see him smile with wicked intent.

Rather roughly, he grasped my upper arm and steered me forward. I was too lost in thought to really look around as the sky grew dark around us, but when he paused, I finally lifted my head to see where he’d taken me.

A beautifully decorated gazebo awaited us. Soft, warm lights were hung along the rafters, flickering as if they were candleflames dancing in the wind. There were garlands of flowers wrapped around each pillar. Each white flower petal glowed under the flickering lights, strangely inviting in their glittering perfection. There was a rectangular table set up in the center, covered by a fine white tablecloth. It was laden with platters of colorfully decadent food. There was a bowl of perfectly ripe fruit, another cutting board covered in sliced cheeses and rich meats, and a plate full of freshly baked bread. My mouth watered at the sight of all of it and before I could take another step toward it, my stomach growled angrily. He smirked just enough to tell me he’d most certainly heard it too.

I hadn’t really eaten much today. I was quite famished.

Hastily, I went to climb the stairs, but Grayson swiftly lifted me up and carried me up to the table. He placed me down and pulled out a chair for me.

“My, what a perfect gentleman,” I commented boldly, and he just chuckled.

“You say that now, my feisty bride,” he countered, and I think my face turned the same color as the grape tomatoes scattered in the spring salad right in front of me. He didn’t finish his thought, but the threat was there all the same. I watched him sit down on the other side of the table through the veil of my thick lashes and decided to play along, at least for a little while.

“You’ve promised a great deal, Mr. Asher,” I replied, unable to stop myself from smirking as my pussy tightened rather unbecomingly.

He just smiled and shook out his cloth napkin. His silence was almost worse than if he’d said anything at all and I carefully pressed my thighs together. I was far too aware of just how wet my panties were right now.

I tried to push that wicked thought from my head.

“Dr. Zoe Asher,” he purred.

“Bold of you to assume I’m going to take your name, husband,” I sassed.

His eyes almost sparkled at my challenge. His grin grew even wider, and he unbuttoned his jacket slowly, keeping his gaze on me the whole time. Carefully, he undid his cufflinks and placed them to the side before he rolled up his cuffs. I couldn’t stop myself from fidgeting as I watched him, nervously toying with the layers of tulle around my waist in a fitful need to have my fingers do something. Anything really.

“You enjoy pushing me, don’t you, Zoe?”

The way he purred my name did very shameful things to me on the inside, things I could never bear to utter aloud.

“Yes,” I replied, trying to sound brave and feeling anything but.

He cracked his knuckles and the image of my naked body over his knees flashed before my eyes. I looked down at the plate in front of me, mortified at the direction of my thoughts and casually reached for the glass of ice water right in front of me.

What could Grayson do with a piece of ice?

I almost choked as I took a sip of the cold beverage. I refused to meet his gaze, far too mortified with myself to do anything but try to swallow.

“I’m going to enjoy pushing right back,” he smirked, and he lifted his hand, signaling someone in the distance. In less than a minute, a line of three waitresses filed in our direction, one with a bottle of wine and the other two with covered silver platters. They worked in concert, filling wineglasses and serving the two of us in a show of service that felt rather indulgent. In a flurry, they removed all the covers off the platters, and my hungry eyes took in the sight of the most delicious-looking plate of seafood I’d ever seen.

Oh. I was going to enjoy this. Very, very much.

One of the waitresses guided my own napkin onto my lap and I quickly muttered my thanks, a bit embarrassed that I’d forgotten something so basic in my excitement over all this food. All three women were extraordinarily beautiful, with tight fitted white button-up shirts and short black pencil skirts that showed off their muscular legs particularly well, but the entire time they were there, Grayson only had eyes for me. He ignored the way the women’s blouses revealed the upper cusp of their breasts and he didn’t even appear to notice how their skirts hugged the curves of their asses.

He just looked at me as he sipped his glass of red wine. Only me. Never them.

“I must say, I’ve taken a liking to your favorite vineyard,” he murmured as they worked around us. One of them sliced several pieces of bread right in front of me, but I found I couldn’t tear my gaze away from him either. “Tell me, how did you come across such a small place?”

I smiled bashfully at the memory.

“I, uh, well it’s a rather embarrassing story,” I muttered.

“I’d like to hear it,” he coaxed. I searched his face and decided to tell him. I’m not sure why, but there was a part of me that wanted to.

“Well, I was driving back from a conference in San Francisco a few years ago. I was taking back roads to avoid some rather gnarly I-5 traffic, but I got so incredibly caught up in beautiful scenery that I got distracted and umm…” I fumbled for a second, pretty mortified to tell anyone about what happened next. “I kind of forgot to pay attention to my gas tank. I had noticed when it hit a quarter tank earlier that day, but I missed the empty indicator turning on until my car rolled to a stop about a third of a mile away from the vineyard.” I rushed to say the end, wanting to rip the Band-Aid right off and tell it before I clamped my lips shut and kept it forever my secret.

He tried to stop himself from chuckling by taking a bite of freshly buttered bread, but I’d seen it anyway and that only added to my shame.

“I’d never run out of gas before and there was no one driving on those roads at that hour, so I was left with only one other choice. I had to lock my car and start walking, dressed in a pantsuit and heels, down the road until I found that winery. It was after hours at the time, but bless them, they helped me get a tow to the nearest gas station,” I explained. “I felt so embarrassed that I bought a whole case of wine to bring home for their trouble after they refused to take my money for their help.”

“You didn’t have Triple A or something?” he asked.

“I have ever since,” I mumbled, and he grinned even wider.

“Lucky for you, I have drivers to worry about silly things like filling up gas tanks and changing the oil,” he replied. His eyes were practically sparkling with amusement.

“I can certainly manage. I haven’t run out of gas ever since,” I replied.

“I can imagine,” he purred, and I squirmed just the slightest bit. “I can assure you, if I was with you that day, I would have made sure you didn’t either.”

I hummed quietly with curiosity, before I cocked my head and decided to be brave.

“Tell me, Grayson, how would you have dealt with a naughty girl who ran out of gas?”

His wicked grin widened tenfold.

“Do you really want to know, Zoe?” he asked carefully, and my thighs trembled. My clit begged for his touch, and I wanted more than anything to lift my dress and ask him to pleasure me with his mouth.

Fuck. Get ahold of yourself, woman.

“Yes,” I breathed, but it was more a husky whisper than anything else.

He put down his glass of wine and leaned forward, folding his hands together as he cocked his head. Everything about him felt dangerous and entirely too ruthlessly seductive.

“Running out of gas is quite a naughty thing indeed, my curious bride. You see, I would have made you remove your pants and panties while you were still in the driver’s seat staring at the empty signal. I would have told you that you were going to get a spanking right there, right then, so that you had several moments to think about the fact that you were going to be punished while I climbed in the backseat. I would have made you get out of the car with your bottom fully bare so that you could climb in beside me and present that bare little ass over my knee. I would have given you a hard spanking before I slipped a finger inside that tight bottom hole and made you come for me right there on the side of the road before I called in someone to help us,” he explained firmly, and I nearly choked on a sip of water before he finished.

“You would have made me walk around the car bare from the waist down?” I squeaked.

“That would be quite embarrassing, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes,” I answered weakly.

Why was it so insanely hot though?

“Did it make your little pussy clench to know that a man like me wouldn’t hesitate to take you in hand whenever you needed it?”

I turned my head, feeling every smartassed retort fly from my head, leaving me with nothing other than speechlessness.

“Zoe,” he warned.

“Yes, sir,” I finally managed, unable to stop myself from covering my face with my fingers in shame.

“Good,” he answered, and I could have sworn I blushed even harder. “Take your hands away from your face, beautiful. Let me see you,” he said gently, and I did. The sheer appreciation he gave me in return made the small measure of obedience worth it. I slowly worked up the courage to pick up a knife and fork, taking a small bite of the butter-laden crab cake in front of me and moaning when the incredible flavors practically exploded across my tongue.

“Oh, my God, this is fantastic,” I spoke out loud.

“My personal chef is one of the best in the world. Stole him away from a Michelin star restaurant, I did,” he offered proudly.

“He’s good,” I sputtered, before I rushed to take another bite. My hungry eyes roved over the food on my plate. There was a beautifully done lobster tail, stuffed shrimp, roasted garlic risotto, and two fat crab cakes that consisted of more crab than batter. There was no shortage of warm melted butter, and I didn’t skimp on that even a tiny bit.

“I usually like to enjoy a good steak, but Mark was particularly excited to cook up a good round of seafood for you,” he continued.

“Seafood is my personal favorite,” I admitted.

“I know,” he answered, and I looked up at him as I took another bite. Chewing thoughtfully, I mulled over the various reasons he could have decided to wed a woman like me. After a few moments, I came up with nothing though and with a sigh, I sat back.

“Why?” I asked.

“Why what?” he answered innocently.

“Why me? You could have anyone. There are so many much more beautiful women than me out there, smarter women, richer women. I don’t understand why the most eligible bachelor in the country set up a meeting to buy my business one morning and decided to make me his bride that very night,” I blurted out.

He placed his silverware down and leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table. Immediately, his body language changed. He became harder, infinitely more dangerous and the sudden change rattled me. I licked my lips, lifting my chin and trying to remain just as courageous as before.

“You are beautiful, Zoe. You’re feisty and incredibly intelligent. Any man would be lucky to have a woman like you by his side and you would do well to remember that. If I ever have to remind you of that again, you’ll find your panties around your ankles, your ass welted, and my cock buried deep in that virgin bottom hole of yours,” he threatened, and my stomach did somersaults inside me at the very clear threat. “Do you understand me, little girl?”

“Yes, sir,” I whispered hoarsely. I hadn’t a feeling that would be a session I wouldn’t particularly enjoy.

“I, for one, very much enjoy a sassy woman who pushes me from time to time. You’re very special though, Zoe, because you’re also the kind of woman who likes to be put in her place too,” he continued.

“Why do you think that?” I asked, aghast.

His gaze dropped to my lap.

“Lift your dress,” he commanded.

“What?”

“Do I need to say it again?” he asked, and he cocked his right eyebrow high in the air.

I shook my head, chewing on my lower lip as I leaned forward to grasp the bottom of my dress. I did as he commanded, lifting it just high enough so that my knees were bared.

“Higher,” he demanded. “I want that skirt up around your waist.”

I blushed heavily as I bared myself, grateful for the fact that I was still wearing underwear. For now, at least.

“Slip your fingers inside those lacey white panties and tell me what you find.”

I hesitated and he continued.

“If I have to come over there, I will rip those panties right off and spank that pretty pussy bright pink until you tell me what I wanted to know in the first place,” he said firmly.

I whined low in my throat. I lifted my dress higher until the tips of my fingers brushed against the fabric of my panties. The layers of tulle likely hid what I was doing from his eyes, but it was still just as dirty as if he was staring right at my naked body. Rather frantically, I looked around. There was no one there yet touching myself outside like this seemed so terribly wrong, but wildly exciting.

I slid my fingers beneath the lacey hem, finding what felt like a puddle in the seat of my panties. My fingertips slipped along the sensitive folds of my pussy, just catching my clit lightly enough to make me shudder in pleasure.

“Tell me what you’ve found, my pretty bride,” he coaxed firmly. I knew I was taking too long, that I was testing his patience and that only made me even needier than before.

“My pussy is soaking wet,” I answered, my voice nearly a whisper. He sat back with a soft smile, nodding once as if I’d said exactly what he would have expected.

“You are perfection, Zoe,” he said, his voice dark and seductive and entirely too tempting. “In a normal world, I would have taken you out for coffee, surprised you with a weekend getaway to the Maldives or the northern mountains of Italy or wherever else you wanted to go. I would have swept you off your feet and given you the whirlwind romance that you deserve until I knelt before you and asked for your hand in marriage. You would have said yes, and I would have given you everything you ever wanted.”

I narrowed my eyes, trying to figure out what he could mean.

“But this is not that perfect world,” he continued.

“No. Nothing is ever perfect,” I echoed.

“I’m not the kind of man that does romance in that way. When I see something that I want, I take it. I don’t care how much it costs.”

“You know an awful lot about me, and I know so little about you,” I countered.

“All information has a price, Zoe. I’m just a man that can afford it,” he explained, his voice carrying a slightly harder edge.

“Who are you, Grayson Asher?”

“I’m a lot of things, Zoe. Some would call me an entrepreneur. Some call me a ruthless businessman or even a soulless monster with eyes only on the bottom line. But… many others just call me king,” he continued.

I narrowed in on that single word. The way he said it implied dangerous connotations, and I decided to press him a bit further.

“You own a lot of businesses, Grayson. I know that you like to buy startups like mine and build them up, but I imagine that isn’t your only source of income. Tell me, how many of your businesses are legitimate?” I asked purposefully.

“Most of them,” he answered, sipping his glass of wine while he held that steady dark stare firmly in my direction.

“On the surface at least,” I finished for him, and his grin widened precipitously.

“Quite perceptive, my pretty bride,” he answered.

“So, you’re something like a mob boss?” I asked.

“Something like that.” He cocked his head.

I gritted my teeth. His admission should concern me more. Was he a killer? Would he hurt me? To be honest, I already knew the answers to my questions. I was very certain he wouldn’t really hurt me. I’d slapped him, tossed a glass of wine in his face, and the worst that had happened was that he’d given me a sore bottom. He wouldn’t hurt me. He wanted me.

And… I wanted him despite everything that was screaming at me not to.

“Every king needs a queen by his side, doesn’t he?”

“Yes,” I answered boldly. Right now, I’d really like to be a queen in his bed. I dropped my gaze, remembering what the sight of his cock looked like as he stood next to me, hard and thick and I caught myself thinking about what it would feel like sinking deep in between my legs.

“How much do you know of your family history?” he asked, and I was a bit taken aback by the sudden change in subject and the fact he’d caught me right in the middle of a sordid fantasy of what was going to happen once the two of us retired to his bedroom for the night.

“I don’t know a lot about my family. My mother was an only child and her parents passed away some years ago,” I answered thoughtfully.

“Not on your mother’s side. Tell me about your father,” he pushed.

“I don’t even know his name,” I admitted. It was the truth. My mother told me he wasn’t worth knowing a very long time ago and she’d refused to answer any of my questions when I’d grown older despite my constant persistence. Eventually, I stopped asking and I started trying to find the answers myself. I tried to find any evidence that would offer a hint to his identity, but in the end, I found nothing. At some point, I gave up on my search and assumed he was just some deadbeat loser. Anyone who had gone to that level of hiding clearly didn’t want me in his life.

“Did you ever think there was a reason for that?” Grayson asked gently.

I paused. Grayson clearly knew something about him that I didn’t.

“I just assumed he was some lowlife that never wanted a daughter,” I answered curtly.

“No. He was much more than that,” Grayson replied. I licked my lips, trying to discern exactly what he might mean. Was there more to what he was saying? Something hidden between the lines, maybe? I decided to push. If he knew something, he was going to tell me.

“Does his identity have something to do with why I’m sitting across the table from you in your rooftop gardens in a wedding dress with your ring on my finger?” I asked, keeping my voice steady.

“It does,” he answered.

“Will you tell me his name?” I asked. My voice was soft, coaxing even. I didn’t want to demand it of him. I already knew that he didn’t seem like a man who would react well to anything like that.

“Ismael Zambada Garcia,” he answered. I stared at him for several impressively long seconds.

I knew that name. Most of America knew that name because he’d ended up on the FBI’s most wanted list for some time on suspicion for drug trafficking. It was also rumored that he was the leader of the Sinaloa Cartel, an international crime syndicate that ran deep into the country of Mexico. They were also known to have a significant number of ties to places here in the United States, including but not limited to San Diego. Their reach went far. Their pockets ran deep too.

“It’s not possible,” I whispered.

“It is.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Your mother hid his identity from you because she was afraid that if he knew of your existence you would be as good as dead. Ismael wasn’t the man he is now back when you were conceived. He started out as a farmer, a good man, but he got caught up in the cartel and never turned back,” Grayson explained.

“So why is he so important if he doesn’t know who I am?” I pressed.

“Because that’s the thing, my pretty bride. He found out about you, and he made a certain set of arrangements for you. Fortunately, I found out about them before they came for you.”