Page 9 of Give It a Day (Song-Smith #1)

Damon

“Good girl,” I mutter before I let out a relieved sigh.

Kayla put up a damn good fight, I’ll give her that. But I always win. I always get what I want. Always .

I remove my hand from her throat, checking if bruises are blooming. I find none, even more relieved, since I was careful not to leave easily visible marks on her neck. Not yet, at least. Not until after our wedding.

I slowly pull my throbbing cock out of her pussy, although I certainly don’t want to. I could bury myself into her all hours of the day, and happily so, whether she’s being disobedient or not.

After fixing up my appearance, I look over her unconscious body, only clad in her bra and thong.

Picking her up, I carry her out of the car and into the church. I find my mother there, waiting for me in a dark corner close to the church entrance, far away from the officiant still waiting patiently at the altar. Also at the altar is my father entertaining the Knights, talking like old friends.

While Kayla’s still unconscious, my mother gestures for me to go into the back room where we put my passed-out bride into her wedding dress .

Thankfully, it isn’t until she’s fully dressed, carried to the altar, and held against me to stay upright, that she wakes up, groggy and groaning.

“Hey, little bird.” I chuckle softly, looking down at her as I take her hand. “Ready to become my wife?” It’s amusing to see the reactions she makes. While my thumb caresses her hand gently, she eyes me with a look of incredulity. I rile her up on purpose, of course. It’s too much fun.

“What…?” she shakily asks as she looks around, noticing the where we’re in, taking in the crucifix, perhaps?

Though, even god can’t save her now. “No…” she whimpers as she slides her hand away from me.

I watch her, like a fox stalks a bird for dinner.

I can see in her panicked eyes that she’s thinking of running again, but for insurance this time, I’ve ordered my men to block every exit, and our parents cage us in while the officiant prepares the ceremony.

“Don’t fight it, Kayla dear,” my mother says calmly, her voice soothing but firm.

The officiant steps forward, not wasting any more time when I peer over at him. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here today…”

But ever the talkative and feisty one, Kayla speaks up, “No, no, mister… priest ? Do I call you that or father something?” She shakes her head, frustrated.

Semantics should be the least of her worries, but it’s become one of the many things that amuses me about her.

She continues, “I don’t know, but stop, please. I didn’t agree to this.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” the minister says, his eyes wrinkling as he offers her a reassuring smile that makes me want to grin victoriously.

She’s trapped , doesn’t she understand that by now?

“Damon has spoken to me, and both of your families have given their blessing. You’re going to be married at this very moment. ”

“ Great , you’re as terrible as the rest of ‘em.” She throws her hands up, sighing in aggravation. It’s quite comical, really. Turning to me, while I’ve been smirking at her little acts of stubbornness, she tells me, “I was told the wedding would be later on today, not now .”

“And I was told my bride would be willing to marry me.” I smile. It seems I can’t help myself around her. “Looks like we’ve been both let down, huh?”

“Ha ha, so funny,” she murmurs sarcastically, scowling at me. She’s as pretty now as when she was writhing with pleasure under me.

Bringing me out of my thoughts—which are sure to spiral into wanting to claim her body again and again— the officiant continues, ignoring Kayla’s whiny, feeble interruptions, which I honestly want her to keep doing.

I want to see more of what she’s willing to do. She’s such a stubborn, beautiful brat. Much more fun to play with. It only riles me up, and the feeling it gives me is exhilarating. Putting her in her place, I realize, makes me feel so much more powerful. She’s prey ready to be ravished.

Besides, she’s merely stalling the inevitable. We’ll be married, and I’ll be ready to pounce and claim what’s mine until she accepts her rightful place. Writhing in visible pleasure beneath me .

But I’m setting aside such desires. For now.

Because this wedding must take place, so I pull her against me by wrapping my arm around her waist and covering her mouth with my other hand.

I make us both face the officiant who’s continuing the ceremony, speaking calmly and steadily.

Of course, she’s shouting her protests, but I’m muffling her quite well.

Our parents have asked for a speedy ceremony.

We’re not here to waste more time than needed.

There is still so much to do. With the wedding—and then the honeymoon taking place after—our parents plan to take charge of our respective businesses without Kayla or I able to step in and help, which from what I’ve gathered has been a hefty burden on both of us.

A vacation is long overdue, and how fun would it be putting Kayla in her place while she and I are on a lovely vacation, where I can trap her and keep her all to myself for weeks?

And even after that, I’ll keep her all to myself forever.

The officiant lets out more and more words, unnecessarily flowery and excessively spiritual, neither of which I appreciate or subscribe to.

Eventually, with my bride pinned against me and her teeth awkwardly grazing against my hand, the officiant reaches the vows.

“Do you, Damon Song-Smith, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?” The officiant turns to me expectantly.

I nod curtly, my hand still firmly covering my bride’s adorable mouth to keep her from interrupting. “I do.”

I’m acutely aware that she’s glaring up at me.

“And do you, Kayla Knight, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?” the officiant asks, barely concealing his amusement at Kayla’s attempts to speak through my hand. Her father tsks at her continued defiance, which makes her yell out an emphatic “I… hmph !”

“I’m certain I heard an ‘I do’.” I smirk while she shakes her head, though how she manages that with my arms keeping her head and body in place, limiting her movements, is quite impressive.

My parents are the ones to put our wedding rings on me and Kayla.

My father puts it on my left hand, but Kayla is doing everything, including flailing her fingers like a fish out of water, to evade my mother, who tries to put the ring on my wife’s left hand.

After a moment, my mother relents, smiling sheepishly at the officiant, who is doing less to hide the mirth in his eyes.

Well, it is a rather humorous situation, but I’d much prefer if my bride behaved briefly enough to put her goddamn wedding ring on.

I’ll remember that for later. I give my mother a look, and she drops Kayla’s ring in my back pocket.

“Very well,” the officiant says, his eyes wrinkling with silent laughter.

At least he’s having fun, while my hand has become wet from my bride’s drool, and she’s still weakly gnashing her teeth against my unmoving palm.

I’d laugh if it weren’t so uncomfortable.

“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride…”

Finally.

I spin my wife around and remove my hand from her mouth, replacing it promptly with my lips to silence any more possible protests.

But I do give her some mercy. It’s a quick kiss. I’m her husband now, after all. Pulling back a bit, I keep her pinned against me.

“You dick!” she whispers harshly, so I kiss her deeper this time, smirking and chuckling against her rebellious, soft lips.

I really can’t help myself around her. She’s an angry little fowl, still not aware that I’ve caught her.

She’s dinner for this starving fox. What about that doesn’t she get yet?

“And to think, I was going to give you a choice in all of this,” I mumble against her lips, my arms wrapping around her waist to pull her much, much closer, as close as I can get her. I want to breathe her scent in. I want her only looking at me. “But you just had to be difficult, didn’t you?”

“What choice ?” She scowls at me.

“The choice between making a scene in front of all these good people…” I spin her slowly to the small crowd watching us both—the officiant, our parents, and my men. “Or letting me kiss you properly in front of more people who’ll be joining us for our reception soon, so behave for me, little bird.”

My thumb traces her bottom lip as I watch her continue scowling despite her body shuddering in my arms.

“Look what you made me do. I married you, Kayla.”

“No shit, Damon.” She frowns harder but stays put. I want to tell her good girl , but out of respect for her trapped situation—she’s doomed now, fate written—I settle for a small, satisfied smile and aim it at her glare.

All the while, our parents have also sealed their own deal. The Knights and the Song-Smiths, two family businesses merged. It’s sure to shake up the criminal world.

Our parents approach the two of us. My father reaches out to shake her hand.

She pouts but takes it, and he gives her dainty hand a firm grip.

I eye my father, who’s the same height as me, if not only a bit shorter due to his older age.

I’d bark at him to back off, but I know the handshake is a meaningful motion.

“Welcome to the family, Kayla,” he says.

“Yeah, glad to be here,” she murmurs sarcastically. I can’t help but smirk. That’s my girl.

“Such charm,” I whisper playfully in her ear, making her jump slightly. That just makes me want her more. I squeeze her body in my corded arms.

My mother speaks as well. “We’re thrilled to have you as our daughter-in-law.” She glances at me. “Our son can be…”

“Awful?” my wife suggests. I smirk wider.

My mother laughs. “Headstrong. But he’s yours to deal with now,” she says, patting Kayla lightly on the shoulder.