A Girl Walks Into a Wedding Page 18

  He grins and lowers his head again, this time not licking, but taking the entire nipple in his mouth, supporting your breast with one hand, while running his other hand over your other breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers.

  ‘And here,’ you whisper, when he eventually lifts his head. And you point to your knickers.

  ‘Oh my goodness, you’re soaked,’ he says hoarsely, dropping his mouth between your legs. ‘I didn’t realise I’d spilt so much. I’d better do something about that.’

  You put both hands on his head as he sucks at you hard through your knickers, and you feel yourself gushing. Then you lift your hips as he pulls them off, and sinks his head down into your pussy, first nipping very gently, then taking your lips into his mouth and sucking them. You writhe in the chair, but you don’t want to come just yet, so after a few minutes of bliss, you tug his head away, whispering that you need him to stop.

  Jack gets to his feet and reaches for your hand, pulling you up and enveloping you in his arms again. As you kiss, you can feel that beautiful hard, bent cock pressing against you. You reach for the condom beside the forgotten champagne, get it out of its packet, then roll it down over his cock, using one hand over the other.

  He spins you around and you can feel his body pressed against your back as he works his teeth and tongue against your neck, his hands running down your chest, exploring your breasts and nipples. Then he takes one hand lower, running it down your stomach and over your mound, sliding a couple of fingers up and down your slit before slipping a finger inside your pussy. You moan, and he pushes another finger inside you, slowly rocking them in and out, his palm pressing down on your mound, teasing your clit, never touching it directly.

  ‘Fuck me,’ you whisper, and make as if to turn around.

  ‘Wait,’ he says. ‘Stay like that, trust me.’

  You lean forward a little, resting your arms on the back of the leather seat for balance, as you part your legs. You feel every inch of his hard bent cock rubbing against you before he guides it inside you from behind. You adjust to the size and shape of him as he pushes slowly into you, both hands on your hips for leverage. You groan at his first thrust, a different sensation now that he’s inside of you, something new. You can feel the head of his cock brushing your G-spot. It must be the bend that makes him able to reach that elusive spot, causing intense pleasure to radiate through your body with every movement of his cock.

  You can’t help crying out, and this makes him plunge into you even more frantically. You push backwards at him in turn, until the pleasure is so intense and the fucking so furious, you can barely stand it.

  Then he steps back, slipping out of you, and you growl in frustration. He moves round you to sit on the leather recliner and pulls you back down onto him, astride his lap, your back against his chest.

  You’re so wet, he slips back inside you effortlessly. Now you’re the one riding him, clutching his thighs for leverage, controlling how hard he hits your G-spot with every thrust going deeper and harder than the one before.

  As you’re about to go over the edge, you clamp down on his cock in a series of quick pulses and come with a cry, your pussy contracting and releasing again and again. And he shudders and shouts out as he comes inside you.

  You lean back against his chest, and feel the world around you giving way as Jack pulls the lever of the chair to recline it all the way back, and magics a blanket out of nowhere. You settle alongside him, relishing the sense of honey spreading through your veins.

  ‘I hope you enjoyed the flight,’ he whispers in your ear, as he tucks a strand of your hair behind it. ‘And that you’ll choose this airline again.’ He looks down at his already stiffening cock: ‘I estimate take-off will commence in about fifteen minutes.’

  ‘Roger that, Captain,’ you say with a satisfied smile.

  The End

  The DJ catches the garter

  Tom clearly doesn’t know his own strength. He launches the garter over his shoulder, and it flies right over the grasping fingertips of the jostling bachelors and lands in the middle of a surprised DJ Salinger’s decks.

  He scoops it up and dangles it from a finger. Someone starts clapping and everyone else follows suit.

  As the cake-cutting begins, the DJ joins you at your table.

  ‘You’ve clearly been to more weddings than me – what does this mean?’ you ask, pointing at his garter, then at your bouquet.

  ‘It means that you and I have to get married,’ he says.

  ‘Ha ha. Surely not!’

  ‘I think if you check the literature, you’ll find that’s the truth.’

  Coming over all tongue-tied, you buy time by reaching for your glass of red wine and taking a sip. That’s odd – there’s something in your mouth. You swill it around, trying to identify it while keeping a sophisticated expression on your face.

  ‘Mummy!’ wails Tokyo or Timbuktu or Toledo. ‘I can’t find Yodabell’s bow tie!’

  Oh no. It can’t be. You test the object gently with your tongue. It certainly feels like it could be the missing rodent accessory.

  You reflexively spit it out in a projectile stream of red wine, which hits the DJ squarely in the chest and spatters down the front of his white shirt.

  ‘What the hell?’ he cries, jumping back.

  You don’t think you’ve ever felt this mortified. But you’re hugely relieved to spot a sodden piece of paper clinging to his stained shirt. Thankfully the foreign object was only the detritus from a party popper. ‘I’m so sorry,’ you say to him. ‘But I thought I was about to swallow a rat’s bow tie.’

  He looks at you for the longest minute as if you’re completely insane, and then you both burst out laughing.

  ‘Oh God, it’s going to take a lifetime to explain, and I’m about to die of embarrassment,’ you say, when you manage to get yourself under control. ‘Can we take my total humiliation as a given and go and soak your shirt? I’ll feel awful if you never manage to get that stain out.’

  ‘I really am sorry!’ you say, as you stand at the double basin in your bathroom, scrubbing at the stubborn red wine stain with a bar of hotel soap.

  ‘Please don’t apologise. I’m very impressed. Normally I’m the one trying to come up with nifty ideas of how to get a girl back to my room with her shirt off, not the other way around.’

  ‘I don’t normally invite half-naked men into my room, but there are extenuating circumstances in this case.’

  You run water to soak the shirt and move to the second basin. Even though Yodabell the rat’s wedding finery was nowhere near your mouth, you still feel a bit squeamish. As you brush your teeth, you check out the DJ in the mirror as he leans casually against the shower door. Now that his shirt is off, you can admire not only the well-defined muscles on his arms, but the black inked tattoos that scroll around them.

  ‘So do you have a name, Mr DJ?’ you ask as you pat your mouth with a towel.

  ‘It’s JD,’ he says.

  ‘For real?’

  He nods.

  ‘JD the DJ?’

  ‘What about you?’ he asks. ‘I’m going to need to know who to send the cleaning bill to.’

  You tell him your name and then brush your teeth for a second time. As you finish, JD moves beside you at the basin, looking at your reflection in the mirror, his arm brushing yours. It’s an oddly intimate moment, and it’s not just the mirror that’s steaming up a little.

  ‘Better?’ he asks.

  ‘I think so,’ you say, running your tongue over your now freshly gleaming teeth.

  ‘Perhaps I could offer a second opinion?’ he offers.

  Your cheeks go flame-hot and your heart starts to thump as he turns you to face him and kisses you gently on the mouth. You feel his tongue run across your lips and you part them a little. The heat of his tongue is cooled by the freshness of the toothpaste on yours.

  You loop your arms around him, and when the kiss comes to an end, he snakes his arms around your waist too, li
nking you closely.

  ‘Hmmm, minty fresh.’ He lowers his arms even further and lifts you onto the space between the two basins. Something falls to the floor and breaks, but it doesn’t matter, because he’s kissing you again, and this time you get to run your hands up his naked arms and over his chest, and then the little pebbles of his nipples.

  His hands roam over your neck and shoulders, and one caresses your breast over the fabric of your dress, which is so stiff, you can’t feel his fingers, to your frustration. You lean back against the mirror, your hand slips, and you swear as you bash your funny bone against the tap.

  ‘Look,’ JD says, ‘I know all the cool kids are getting off in bathrooms, but would you mind if we went old school and moved this party into the bedroom?’

  ‘I thought you’d never ask – my comb is poking me in the bum, and not in a good way.’

  You stand beside the bed, kissing again, slowly swinging your pelvis from side to side against him. He tries to undo some of the buttons on your dress, but they won’t budge. You forgot that in desperation, you used generous amounts of safety-pins earlier so that the bodice wouldn’t pop open every time you took a breath.

  JD gives up on the front of your dress and reaches behind you for the zip, but finds that stuck too. It’s as if you’re glued into this bloody dress!

  JD laughs and collapses back onto the bed. You’re desperate to have his hands all over you, but the dress is having none of it.

  ‘Wait a minute,’ you say, diving into your suitcase and digging around. ‘Cut me out of this fucking thing, I’m begging you!’ you say, fishing out a pair of emergency scissors and handing them to him.

  ‘Are you sure?’ he asks.

  ‘Absolutely!’ You lie down on the bed and he kneels alongside you, holding the scissors poised at your hem.

  ‘Really sure?’ he asks again.

  ‘Hell yeah!’

  You feel his hand on your ankle as he tugs your legs slightly apart, then slowly works the scissors from the hem up your leg, running his hand behind the blade. All you can hear is both of you breathing heavily and the schick, schick of the scissors as they eat through the heavy fabric, the blade cool against your skin as it climbs your leg.

  He straddles your leg as he moves higher and higher, the scissors followed by his fingers, followed by his tongue. As he cuts, your dress falls to each side in piles. He slows as he reaches the top of your leg, and nuzzles your inner thigh with his nose, teeth and lips. Then at last he strokes you with his fingers and you groan and open your legs a little more, so he has access to the part of you that you really want him to touch now.

  He lifts the fabric of your knicker-leg, stretching it upwards, and then you feel the cold metal of the scissors against your mound as he cuts through your pants and the dress at the same time, cutting up over your pubic bone until your knickers are just a shredded memory. And then finally he cuts up the bodice alongside the buttons, and you sit up to help him release the sleeves from your arms, so that you’re completely naked, finally rid of the weight of the fabric, so that now it’s just skin against skin.

  You strip his trousers off in seconds, freeing his cock into one eager hand and covering his balls with your other one, massaging them gently. He pushes his knee between your legs and you can feel your wet pussy pressing against his thigh, the sense of friction so good, you writhe against him.

  You tell him that you’ll be right back, and dash to the bathroom to retrieve a condom from your toiletry bag, smiling at the stained shirt soaking in the basin, before heading back to him.

  You pause for a second to take in the sight of him, his tattoos snaking down his arms and onto his chest, his dusky erection rearing up. Then you kneel over him, fit the condom over the head of his cock, and roll on the rest of it with your mouth. Mmm, what his cock lacks in length, it makes up for in girth.

  He lays you on the bed, and lowers himself between your legs. You feel his cock nudging against the opening of your pussy, then sinking into you, hot and powerful. It’s such a relief to be filled up by him that you bite down on his shoulder as he thrusts into you, pulling himself almost all the way out of you on each stroke, driving you wild to be filled up once more.

  Then you reach down between your heaving bodies, circle your thumb and forefinger around the base of his cock and squeeze to create even more pressure as he pounds into you. You lock your legs around him tightly, crossing your ankles and angling your hips so that he penetrates you even deeper, and then you can’t think about anything any more. And you start coming, your pussy clutching his cock repeatedly as he keeps thrusting, rotating your hips as you push up to meet him, until you feel him shuddering against you, every muscle stiffening for a split second before the final release.

  You cover your naked, spent bodies with a blanket from the end of the bed and lie tracing the gothic patterns on his arm.

  ‘Looks like catching the garter has fringe benefits,’ he whispers in your ear as you drift off into a delicious doze.

  The End

  Mikey catches the garter

  Just as the garter is about to land squarely in Bruno’s hands, Mikey swoops down and grabs it. Saving lives, dodging the taxman and extreme climbing have clearly gifted him with ninja reflexes. Bruno’s face drops when he realises it’s been snatched from right under his nose, and you feel a little sorry for him, but relieved at the same time. You’ve been avoiding him ever since the whole footsie-footsie episode at the rehearsal dinner last night, and traditionally, whoever catches the bouquet has to slow-dance with whoever catches the garter. So while you’re not all that pleased it’s monkey-boy, at least you can avoid Bruno for a little longer.

  You’ve done a U-turn about him this weekend – he’s grown into such a nice guy, sweet, funny, kind and even cute – but he’s here with Cat, and it really bothers you that he’s been coming onto you.

  And then there’s the whole thing between Cat and Lisa. You’re worried that if you end up talking to Bruno, you’re going to have to tell him what’s been going on behind his back all weekend. No, it’s definitely easier if you simply avoid him. And speaking of avoiding people … Mikey strides purposefully towards you, a smug expression on his face.

  ‘Hey, beautiful,’ he smarms, dangling the garter from the end of his finger. ‘Look what I got.’

  The lights over the dance floor go low and something suitably slow and romantic starts to play.

  ‘May I have this dance?’ he asks.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ you say curtly. What kind of bastard best man snogs the bride two nights before her wedding?

  He’s undeterred. ‘It’s okay, I understand – you’re scared you won’t be able to keep your hands off me.’

  ‘Yes, that’s it,’ you say, your voice deadpan. Then, over Mikey’s shoulder, you spot Bruno walking towards you, a man on a mission. ‘I’ve changed my mind,’ you say, launching into Mikey’s arms and shoving him onto the dance floor.

  ‘Easy, tiger. I knew you couldn’t resist the Mikeynator!’ he says, wrapping his octopus arms around you. Within seconds you feel one of his hands drop onto your bottom. You reach behind and lift it off, only to feel it clamping back on immediately.

  The second the song comes to an end, you break away from Mikey and turn to leave the dance floor, only to find your way blocked by a determined-looking Bruno. Before he can speak, you collar Mikey once again. ‘Another one!’ you yell at him.

  Mikey grins manically and pulls you much too close as the dance floor fills up around you once again. As he sweeps you around, you feel a tap on your shoulder. You turn, hoping it’s not Bruno. Thankfully, it’s Cat.

  ‘Mind if I cut in?’ she asks.

  ‘Of course not.’ You step away, a little confused. ‘He’s all yours.’

  ‘No shoving, ladies, I have more than enough love to go around.’ Mikey gleefully holds his arms open to you both.

  ‘Not him, you,’ Cat says, looking you in the eye.

  You swallow, your mout
h instantly dry. What could she possibly want with you? You feel incredibly awkward about seeing her with Lisa. And what if she’s noticed the looks Bruno has been casting your way?

  Before you know what’s happening, you’re dancing with Cat. She’s taller than you, and she leads gracefully, guiding you around the dance floor to the slow track pumping through the speakers. Dancing with another woman feels odd, especially after dancing with monkey-boy. Her hands feel disconcertingly small.

  ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ Cat hisses at you once you’re swaying around the floor.

  ‘Nothing! Nothing’s happened, I swear!’

  ‘Well I don’t know why not, he’s a phenomenal guy,’ Cat says.

  ‘Wait – who are we talking about?’

  ‘Bruno, of course. Can’t you see how crazy he is about you?’

  ‘But aren’t you and he … ’

  Cat starts to laugh. ‘Bruno and me, a couple? We’ve been friends for years, and anyway I don’t bat for that team. I just came with him to get his mother off his back about him still being single. She can be a bit of a pain. But tell you what, if I bent that way, Bruno would be my number-one choice.’

  ‘You mean you’re not into guys?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘Oh thank God! That explains you and Lisa. I saw you in the laundry room the other night.’

  ‘Oh you did, did you?’ She chuckles. ‘Well, that was tame. Just be grateful you didn’t see us on the pool table, in the summerhouse or in the sauna.’

  ‘All this time, I thought you and Bruno were together – that’s why I’ve been avoiding him.’

  ‘I noticed!’ Cat says, twirling you around, and as she does, you see Bruno off to one side watching you, his face a picture of angst. Your heart softens – you’ve been a little harsh on the poor guy.

  ‘I know it’s not really my business, but would you do me a favour and just give him a chance? He’s totally mad about you, and you could do far worse.’ Cat nods over at Mikey, who’s standing on the edge of the dance floor leering at you and Cat and making lewd gestures.