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I pin my legs around his waist and ride a wave so blinding I think the sun has come down into our little cottage.
“I’m coming,” Rome says, and he starts to draw away from me.
“No,” I moan, locking my legs around him. “Inside me. You’re my husband.”
With a roar Rome pins me against the door and goes in hard. I feel the catch and release of his muscles as he comes. I feel the hot spurts of him, emptying inside of me.
Can’t take this back. Can’t unconsummate our marriage.It’s real now, it’s done. I feel it, I feel it—
I hear them.
The sirens.
It’s not me who’s screaming—it’s police cars. They must have landed nearby to come after me. I was waiting for the beat of the helicopter, but I was wrong.
I cling to Rome for a few more precious seconds and then he pulls out, setting me back on my feet. His cum drips down the inside of my thigh, still warm and thrilling. Leave it. Let them all see it. I don’t care. I belong to him.
“Here.” He tosses me a fresh pair of panties and I struggle against the buzz to pull them on. Rome tugs his shirt over his head. My skirt is caught in the waistband of the panties when the police cars arrive. I free it, smoothing the skirt down, reveling in the burn of what we just did, in the wet heat of carrying Rome’s cum inside me, held snug inside my body by a pair of rapidly soaking panties.
Six police cars—six too many—speed onto the commune property. People scatter outside. Rome’s stepmother tears after her two boys.
“This is federal land,” Rome says, shaking his head. “They shouldn’t even be here. They have no jurisdiction. It’s illegal.”
I swallow past the sharp rock lodged in my throat, not sure whether I should cry or scream.
“My family hardly cares about legalities,” I say sadly.
I grab Rome’s hand. “Do we run?”
He grits his teeth. A reluctant, “no,” growls in his throat.
Police SUVs, sirens going, kick up the dust by our cottage. One by one, doors open and slam. I can’t stop trembling until Rome squeezes my hand.
The door’s not locked, so when they try it, it flies open with a surprising amount of speed. “Hands up!” the first guy shouts. “In the air, now!”
Rome puts his hands in the air, that old cocky smile on his face.
“You’re under arrest for kidnapping and violating the terms of your bail.” The lead cop comes forward with a pair of handcuffs.No.
I leap in front of Rome, drawing a gasp from somebody at the back of the crowd. “Stop this. This isn’t a kidnapping. This is my husband.” My heart’s never beat so hard or so furiously. “Plus, I think you should double-check those bail conditions. A lovely judge decided to remove them all as long as Rome stayed in California. Which he has.”
The cop studies me, and that’s when Uncle Enzo comes through the door. He wears a dark, impeccable suit as always, one that matches the dark fury in his eyes.
“Avery.” His voice says he was worried about me, but his eyes say something else. “You need to come with me. Right now.”
“I’m not coming with you, Enzo.” With every word, a newfound steadiness holds back the terror building in my brain and wrapping tight fists around my lungs. It’s my uncle. And he’s out of line. Why am I reacting this way? It’s stupid, and I won’t do it. Breathe.Breathe. “I’m married now.” I thrust out my hand so he can see my wedding band.
Enzo’s eyes go wide with shock, but he’s a consummate businessman and it’s gone from his face in a flash. “Congratulations. We can discuss that later. And I’m certainly relieved you’re here of your own volition and not a hostage.” He pauses, clearing his throat. “There’s more pressing news.”
“I doubt it.”Breathe and be brave. It’s not lost on me that the policemen filtering into this room all have high-powered guns, and most of them are pointed at Rome. It’s not lost on me that one false move is going to set them off. They’re gunning for my fucking husband, and I’m not having it. Enzo seems to sense my horror, and motions for the police officers to lower their weapons. The gesture is subtle, and welcome, but it also reinforces to me that Enzo is in charge of every police officer here. If they’re even real police officers and not private security staff dressed up to play the part.
I don’t trust a single one of them, guns lowered or not.
“Get rid of the police and I’ll talk to you, Enzo.” My words are sharp, my bravery manufactured. I’m still the same little girl terrified of the powerful men in her family, but something changed inside me in that basement. Now, in spite of the fear, I can still stand against the man in front of me for maybe the first time in my entire life.
Enzo nods, turning to face the police. “Thanks, officers,” he says. “This was all a misunderstanding. You can go.”
The police officers only hesitate for a moment before filing out of the house, headed for their cruisers. A moment later, they’re pulling away, headed back to the highway, a procession of sedans kicking up dirt in their wake.
