The Wedding Agreement (The Green Family Series Book 1)

by Annie Dyer

  “We need to be quick. Neither of us will get away with being missed for long.” His fingers swirled around my entrance, then ran over my clit. “If anyone plays with that lock and comes in, they won’t see what I’m doing to you. They won’t know straight away that I’m fingering you till you come on my hand like the good girl you are.”

  I couldn’t look away from his eyes as he pressed a finger inside of me, the heel of his hand rubbing against my clit.

  “You’re soaking.”

  He wasn’t wrong. I put my hands on his shoulders to brace myself as he added another finger, curling them to hit just the right spot. There was a shift in our power dynamic: me almost naked, and him fully clothed, if a little rumpled.

  My head tipped back, the beginnings of an orgasm starting to build.

  “You feel so fucking tight around my fingers, Imogen. I bet my cock’s going to feel like it’s found heaven when I fuck you later.” His movements were hard and slow, mimicking how he might go inside me later, making everything feel tighter and needier.

  “Promise?” I breathed the word out.

  “Promise what?” His grin told me he knew exactly what he was asking.

  “You’ll fuck me later.”

  He sped up his fingering and all that was keeping me up was my hands on his shoulders. I was almost there.

  “I’ll fuck you later.” He whispered the words as someone tried to get in the room. “As soon as I can get my wife away from everyone, I’ll fuck her so she knows exactly who she belongs to.”

  I started to come, soaking Noah’s hand and shoving my face into his chest to keep my moans stifled.

  He merged us into more of an embrace just as the door was unlocked, an unsuspecting waiter entering.

  I didn’t need to turn my head to know they’d scuttled back out.

  Noah rubbed my pussy one last time, running his palm over my sensitive clit. I watched as he brought his hand up to his mouth and sucked a finger I could see glistening with my arousal.

  His eyes flickered dirtily. “You taste divine. If I didn’t think we’d be interrupted, I’d go to my knees and lick you clean.”

  “But then you’d make me wet again.”

  His hands went to the ties on my gown, closing it securely. “That would be the plan.”

  There were voices outside, my sisters’ voices.

  “Shit. Caught.” I took a step back, knowing full well that my sisters would guess we’d been up to something that we probably shouldn’t.

  “Oh, hello. What do we have here?” It was Maven who came in first. “Our bride and our groom… I couldn’t possibly wonder what they’ve been doing…” She glared at the pair of us. “This is bad luck.”

  I laughed, tightening my robe and keeping my arms over my boobs as my nipples hadn’t yet calmed down. Noah was standing directly behind me. I had a feeling he didn’t want to scare my sisters with that weapon he was carrying.

  “It’s helping with last minute nerves. I’ll be there in two minutes. Please give us some privacy.” I used the tone I generally saved for when Shay was being an arse.

  They left, without argument and just a few cat calls.

  “I’m not sure if their timing was good or bad then.” I watched them leave, Cat giving us a cheeky wave before closing the door.

  He put his hands on my hips from behind. “At least they kept their distance. Are you seriously not going to wear underwear when you’re walking down the aisle?”

  “Seriously. Is that going to be a problem for you?”

  “It might be depending on how soon I can get you on your own after we’ve said the vows.”

  A clock chimed one. “I need to finish getting ready.” The prospect of walking down the aisle in front of so many people almost made me go into a panic. “Not long.”

  Noah laughed, spinning me round into his arms. “It will all go smoothly. You already look beautiful, and if I could marry you here and now, I would.”

  “With just your grandfa present.”

  He nodded, pushing a tendril of hair out of my face. “Just him.”

  I swallowed, only it felt like I was swallowing something far too large. This wasn’t in our agreement; stolen kisses and secret orgasms were nowhere in the fine print.

  When I kissed Noah then, the large thing I’d felt I’d swallowed settled in my chest, warm and heavy and pulsing.

  There was no doubt, when I walked down the aisle to marry him, I was walking towards the man I’d gone and fallen in love with.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Noah

  Gus, Robbie, and my father had all told me that I absolutely wasn’t allowed to turn around to watch her walk down the aisle. I knew she’d entered the chapel when the guests quietened and the music changed; I stayed focused on the front of the chapel, where the vicar stood, smiling happily, totally ignoring my brother who had turned round and was grinning like a moron.

  He turned back to me. “She looks amazing.”

  I looked at the ground, seeing my shoes, the traditional kilt socks, the hem of my kilt. I knew Imogen wasn’t expecting that. I wanted to see her so badly, so I gave in and turned around.

  She looked more than fucking amazing.

  “Noah, I told you not to turn round!” Gus’ whisper was far too loud. The guests laughed, Imogen smiled wider.

  She walked up the aisle on her father’s arm, her bridesmaids in front dressed in teal. It was the same colour as my family’s tartan, deep and rich, but that wasn’t what was captivating me. That would be my bride.

  Her dress was her, simple and elegant, with a skirt that flared out, and I knew that under it she wasn’t wearing anything.

  She locked eyes with mine when they came back up her body and gave me a wicked as sin smile.

  “You look beautiful.” I gulped the words, before seeing my grandfather standing up, looking over at us, his face beaming.

  Imogen looked over at him too and waved, before looking back at me, her eyes filled with tears that I didn’t want to spill over. I was pretty sure mine were the same.

  The guests were seated. Her father shook my hand and patted me on the back, but everything apart from her was starting to blur.

  There was the service, a reading from the vicar that we’d chosen over coffee one morning before she’d had to race off to court, but I don’t think either of us properly heard it.

  The vows were said, traditional ones, although I now wished I’d added my own lines, but maybe I could do that later. Robbie did the usual best man thing of pretending to have lost the rings, but they eventually emerged, the boxes being found somewhere around his sporran, a search which had Connor shouting a few almost explicit comments that could’ve given Lady S palpitations.

  Instead, she was laughing with the rest of us.

  Imogen’s ring was gold, engraved on the outside with a line-drawing of a thistle, small sapphires embedded into the metal. Mine matched, without the sapphires, but the pattern was the same.

  I stared at our hands when the rings were on them, the vicar’s voice blurring into the background. I hadn’t realised just how spellbound I’d be by all of this. By her.

  “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

  I did hear that. Immy’s veil was over her head, and she giggled quietly as I lifted it up, trying to seal the deal carefully but quickly with a kiss.

  She ended up helping, probably worried I’d end up messing her hair or somehow tearing the veil, or maybe because she was as desperate for that kiss as I was.

  Her arms went up to my shoulders, similar to how they were when we’d been alone an hour or so ago, and our bodies pushed together.

  I took it slow, little tastes, before she pulled me in closer and the kiss went from a promise to a show. There was a whoop, and a couple of calls about getting a room, one inevitably from Gus.

  Our mother would be so proud.

  “We did it.” She whispered the words when the kiss ended. “We got married.”


  I twirled her around, making her laugh. My brother suggested it was time to walk my bride back down the aisle, but I was lost in a moment.

  “Mrs Soames,” I murmured the words low enough so only she could hear them. “Are you wearing anything under those skirts?”

  I think her laughter was all I needed to be happy.

  For the next hour, I didn’t get to see my bride. We were pulled to talk by guests, accepting congratulations and praise for how the service went. My mother was in her society element, mingling with people she hadn’t seen for some time, throwing gleeful looks to friends whose children weren’t being poster adults.

  “Congratulations, Noah.” I saw Zeke, suited up but still managing to look like the tortured artist we all knew he was. “Your bride is beautiful. I only wish I’d met her first.”

  I smirked. Zeke and I had never gone for the same women. “You’re not her type.”

  He shrugged. “She’s a lot better than what your type usually is. She has a brain for one.”

  “I still think I’m going to wake up and this will be a dream.” I watched Imogen hugging one of her cousins, Payton, and then Payton’s husband, Owen. She was beaming and laughing. “And I’m going to go over there and check she’s real.”

  I could be nice to Zeke later; he wouldn’t mind. In fact, I could wait a decade to be nice to him, and he wouldn’t notice.

  My wife turned round to see me as I walked over to her, trying to avoid anyone who looked like they wanted to stop me to offer congratulations. I took hold of her and dipped her backwards, the show causing a round of applause, then I kissed her again, feeling her soften in my arms.

  “We’ve been married an hour and I’ve barely spoken to you.” It was becoming a gripe. “When can we sneak off?”

  She laughed, her arms around me, and she was looking at me in a way I hoped would never change. “I think we have to get through the wedding breakfast first. Maybe between courses.”

  “We need to hurry things up then.”

  “Noah, we’ve got the next twelve months. We have time.” Her fingers slid between us to touch my sporran.

  “Just twelve months?” I pushed away the icy fist that clutched my heart.

  “At least twelve months.” Her lids grew heavy. “It was a mistake not to wear underwear.”

  “Why?” There was a reason why sporrans were heavy. They stopped any tentage, and I was glad I was wearing one right now.

  “Nothing to soak up the wet.”

  I made a noise that sounded too animalistic for this setting. “Immy, you can’t say stuff like that. Not when I have to listen to more people telling me congratulations for the next however long.”

  “We have a choice: we can somehow disappear for a quickie, and it would have to be quick. Or, we can wait until later, about ten, when we can claim tiredness and go to bed.”

  “Everyone will know why we’re going to bed early.” I wasn’t sure I cared.

  “That’s a good thing. No one will think this is anything but a marriage of two people in love.” Her expression was almost sad.

  “I’m so glad this is with you. Out of everyone I’ve ever met, I’m glad this day is shared with you.”

  “How do you know exactly what to say?”

  I shrugged. “Just remember all these things for when I get something completely wrong.”

  She pulled away, her hand now in mine. “Let’s go and see your grandfa.”

  I’d been to enough weddings to know what happened, but usually I’d been fairly inebriated at most, so wasn’t aware of time. Today, however, I was very aware of time because it was going so slowly.

  We’d decided to do the speeches after the food, mainly because Gus would balls his up if he gave it hungry. Like a baby, he needed feeding regularly, so I was glad when the starters came round, having seen him polish off a plate of canapes already.

  Imogen nibbled at her food and sipped at the champagne. There were cocktails too, one of the few requests Immy had made, but she’d accepted one without drinking it.

  “Are you okay?” My hand slipped around to the small of her back. She’d been quiet since we sat down, the master of ceremonies managing to deflect some of the attention from us onto him.

  I was used to events like these, having been brought up with them almost every couple of weeks, but Imogen wasn’t. They were tiring, as you ended up feeling like an exhibit at the zoo for much of the evening, always on your guard.

  She nodded, picking up an olive. “I think it’s all catching up with me some, but I’m fine. It’s gone well.”

  “Until my brother gives his speech.”

  She smiled. “It will be fine.”

  It wasn’t.

  His speech was accompanied with a PowerPoint presentation that illustrated my childhood, teenage years and twenties, and included some of the most embarrassing things I’d ever done or worn. My mother cringed just as much as me, particularly at the evidence of the night out at university when I’d dressed up as Freddie Mercury, with Zeke as Elton John. I had no idea where he’d managed to get half the photos, or how much he’d paid for them, but revenge would be sweet when his next birthday came up. There was the usual reading out of cards from people who couldn’t attend and I did brace myself for a possible made up one from Carla, but Gus thankfully behaved.

  All the while, I sat next to Imogen, my arm around her, her leaning into me. Her father had given a speech about her which summed her up well. He’d emphasised her argumentative side, talked about how she’d stubbornly refused to attend her older cousin’s hen do as a protest against male exploitation – there had been strippers planned and she’d only been eighteen – then ended up dating one of the strippers.

  There was so much I didn’t know about her, and I wanted the time to find it all out.

  “I might have to divorce you sooner after seeing all of those photos.” She half-whispered to me, her dessert barely touched.

  I pressed a kiss to her cheek. “No. Not part of the agreement. But I do want to know why you’re not eating.”

  She smiled. “I’m nervous.”

  I looked at her. “What for? Apart from Catrin trying to poke Zeke’s eye out with a cocktail stick everything’s gone well.”

  Her cheeks coloured. “About the wedding night.”

  I sat back in my seat, amused more than anything. “You’re nervous about going to bed with me.”

  She laughed, popping a spoonful of the lemon tart she’d picked for dessert. “We’re doing more than just going to bed. At least, I hope so.”

  I nodded. “Immy, there’s a cloakroom four doors down from here on the left that no one uses. Go wait for me in there. Give me five minutes, and while you’re waiting make sure you’re nice and wet for me.”

  Her jaw dropped slightly.

  “Go. Everyone’s finishing now. Some guests will head back to their rooms. We won’t be missed for twenty minutes.” I breathed the words into her ear. “Lock the door behind you. I’ll knock three times so you know it’s me.”

  She stood up, adjusting her skirts, skirts that I planned to be under in about seven minutes time.

  She opened the door on my third knock, her face still flushed and her eyes filled with lust. It was dark in the cloakroom, and there was a slight smell of mothballs because this room only got used when there was a very big gathering of over a thousand guests, which was rare now. I locked the door behind me, and said nothing to the woman who was looking at me in a way that told me she was definitely wet already.

  One thing I’d already learned about Imogen was that she liked being told what to do as long as she wasn’t at work, and no one else was there to hear it.

  I took hold of her waist and pulled her closer to me, kissing her hard with no regard for her lipstick or mussing her hair. She could put that right after, but right now, it was my job to rid her of some of those nerves and this was the best solution I could think of, and it wasn’t exactly going to be a hardship for me.

  I moved h
er backwards to the end of the cloakroom, further away from the door just in case anyone did wander this way. Picking her up – her dress must’ve added a stone – I placed her butt on a low table, close enough to the edge so I could hitch up her skirts.

  “Time to find out about the underwear.” My hands ran up her legs and under her skirts, memorising the smooth silky skin.

  I didn’t reach the sides of any knickers. She was bare under there.

  “Fuck me, Immy.” I sank to my knees and arranged her skirts over me, my hands going to the inside of her thighs and parting them. I could smell the musk of her arousal, feel the wetness at the tops of her legs, before I even reached her pussy.

  I started with a lick, just a little pressure, my grip changing to her hips, holding her still while I feasted.

  Which was exactly what I did. I couldn’t see her reactions to what I was doing, but I could hear them, feel them. Her thigh muscles tensed, my name said repeatedly like a mantra, all the time while I toyed with her clit with my tongue, licking and sucking, tasting her wetness, knowing that for at least another year she was mine to please and pleasure.

  She came with a ferocity that made me glad we were at the back of the cloakroom so no passers-by could hear. I waited for her shudders to subside, before coming out from her skirts, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, then leaned myself over her, one hand on either side, resting on the table.

  “I will do that all night if that’s what you want. I’ll make you feel good over and over again. You don’t need to worry about how good it’s going to be.” I leaned in for a kiss, knowing she’d be able to taste herself on me.

  Her hand crept to the front of my kilt, pressing on my erection. “I haven’t returned the favour from before…”

  “And you’re not going to because this isn’t about favours. Don’t get me wrong, Imogen, I’m desperate to get inside you and fuck you until the only name you know is mine, but it can wait.”

  She nodded, looking a little speechless. “We… I…”