Wedding Date (Dating Series Book 6)

by Monica Murphy

  My friend thought it was hilarious. I tried to play it off. Until I woke up screaming at two in the morning and my friend’s mom had to call my mom, who came and picked me up.

  I keep telling myself this shit isn’t real, but I lose my appetite. No more popcorn for me. I try to think of other things. Like the beauty that is Kelsey. But my beauty is also totally into this movie, and she’s enjoying every single minute of it too.

  The little sadist.

  Slice goes the knife as the killer stabs the shit out of some innocent dude, the blade wielded a little too close to that guy’s junk to make me comfortable. Unable to help myself, I slap my hands over my eyes, praying the gruesome scene is almost over soon.

  Kelsey starts laughing, and I know I’ve been caught.

  “You’re covering your eyes like a little kid,” she says gleefully.

  I spread two fingers wide so I can look at her. “This shit is scary.”

  “Oh, come on. It’s hilarious. She just sliced off that guy’s penis.” Kelsey laughs some more, her eyes dancing.

  I’m too focused on the fact that she said the word penis. And how she found it funny that he got it sliced off. I don’t care if it’s a movie, she seems way too happy to have witnessed that.

  “You still hating on men?” I ask her, letting my hands drop.

  The movie is forgotten. “What do you mean?”

  “Is that why you’re loving this movie? It seems like our killer is hell bent on making everyone suffer.” I’m only just now coming to this conclusion.

  Kelsey shrugs. “I don’t hate you.”

  It’s the way she says it. The vulnerable tone of her voice. The soft look on her face. The glow in her eyes. We stare at each other a moment too long, the guy who just got carved up screaming in agony still and I do something completely out of character.

  I rest my hand on her knee. Briefly.

  Curve my fingers around so they’re sliding up her inner thigh. Slowly.

  My gaze never strays from hers, and regret smacks me in the chest for only a moment.

  She doesn’t stop me. She doesn’t say no. She doesn’t push my hand away from her.

  Holy.

  Shit.

  Nine

  Kelsey

  One second I’m laughing about the movie, way too into the scene where she slices off that pathetic dude’s dick, and the next…

  The next…

  Theo’s touching my knee. My thigh. His fingers are firm. He knows what he’s doing. His touch is—not friendly. Not friendly at all.

  It’s…sexual.

  My entire body goes on instant alert. Heat blooms in my chest. In other body parts too. My mouth goes dry and I tilt my head down, watching as his hand creeps up, getting closer and closer to where I start to throb.

  Throb for him.

  Oh my God.

  What is even happening right now? I could blame the alcohol, but I don’t think that’s the problem. I’m definitely more sober than I was at the restaurant. Maybe we’ve been building up to this moment for months and I never even realized it.

  Honestly? I tended to keep him at arm’s length. Just like I do with everyone else in my life, with the exception of the friends I’ve made in the last year, thanks to Caroline. Who knew that moment she spotted me in the bar at Tuscany restaurant after I got stood up by my date and invited me to have dinner with her friends would change my life forever?

  Change it for the better.

  They’re the only ones who know the closest version to the real me. And even then, they don’t see everything. Because I don’t let them. Being vulnerable isn’t smart. My mother hammered that home way too many times to count. She had a wall up throughout her entire life—and so do I.

  Don’t get too close, the tiny voice in my head whispers. They might find out your secrets.

  What’s scary? Theo has the potential to bust all my walls down. Every single one of them. And I bet he doesn’t even realize it.

  He currently says nothing, and neither am I. I wait in breathless agony as those fingers smooth back down to my knee. He’s a tease.

  I like it.

  Without hesitation, he reaches for me. I go to him. His arm snakes around my waist and pulls me in closer. I rest my hands on his hot, hard chest, my gaze locking on the spot where his collar lies open. I want to press my mouth right there, on his bare, warm skin. I want to feel his pulse throb beneath my lips. I want to hear him groan. I want to feel his hands in my hair.

  I have no idea what’s come over me, but when I lift my gaze to his, I see the same deep need reflected in his eyes. He’s thinking the same thing. He wants the same thing.

  I want him. He wants me.

  What’s stopping us?

  Logic, the word whispers through my brain.

  Friendship.

  Both of those words should make me hesitate, but I don’t.

  Curling my fingers into his shirt, I pull him in closer, his face hovering above mine, his lips right—there. I zero all my focus in on his mouth. His full lower lip. It’s sexy.

  I’m tempted to bite it.

  Our breathing accelerates and his head dips. His mouth grazes mine. It’s a question.

  Do you want this? Should we do this?

  Leaning in, I press my mouth to his in answer.

  Yes. Yes.

  Can he feel my internal begging? Because I am. Begging, that is. I can sense his hesitation, and I wonder if it’s that moral high ground he so carefully cultivates. He wants the public to see a certain version of him, just like I do. The man has been in denial for months. He’s not in pain. He doesn’t care if his fiancée cheated on him with a blood relative. No big deal, right?

  It’s a huge deal to Theo. He hurts. He bleeds. He’s mortal. Throwing himself into his career to forget all that pain is only half his story.

  I want to know the rest of the story. I want to discover the rest of the man.

  His lips are soft, and the moment they touch mine with true purpose, tingles sweep over my skin, making me shiver. Even as I long for more, I also know this probably shouldn’t happen, I think as he kisses me again. His big hand slides up my back, until his fingers are in my hair, tugging on the ends. A moan escapes me at that first pinch of delicious pain, and he does it again.

  I decide to provoke him by sinking my teeth into his plump lower lip. Not too hard at first. Just enough to sting.

  He growls and deepens the kiss, his tongue sliding into my mouth. I circle my tongue around his eagerly, a sigh escaping me when he retreats, his kiss chaste once more.

  Fuck chaste. I want more.

  Climbing on top of him comes naturally. I straddle his lean hips. Wrap my arms around his neck. Thrust my fingers into the thick, soft hair at his nape so I can tug his head back and kiss him like I mean it. He kisses me back like he means it too. As if he’s always meant it and has restrained himself for far too long.

  I can feel all that restraint pulsating at the surface, and I want him to unleash it all over me.

  Hands start to wander and I press my chest into his palms whenever I can. Still no words are spoken. It’s probably better we do this in silence. Words will just mess everything up, and I can’t risk it.

  Though I do whimper when his lips find my neck. I love it when someone kisses me there. It’s one of my more sensitive spots. His lips are damp. Hot. I’m shivering as he continues kissing my throat, his hand sliding beneath the hem of my shirt, making connection with the bare skin of my waist. His fingertips are rough. His lips find my ear. So do his teeth. I tilt my head to the side, giving him better access, and he takes it.

  My hands go to the front of his shirt and I start undoing the buttons with trembling fingers. I’ve never seen him without his shirt off, and I’m eager. Sloppy. Shaky. It takes me longer than it should to undo all those stupid buttons, and he doesn’t once reach out to help me, the bastard. When they’re finally undone and his shirt hangs off him, I pull away, my gaze dropping to the glory that is his bare che
st.

  It’s wide and muscular, but not too overdone. Dark, curling hair covers the spot between his pecs, spreading over his pecs too. A dark trail leads down to his navel and past, arrowing below his pants.

  My mouth waters at the thought of following that path.

  I’ve always had a fairly casual attitude toward sex. I lost my virginity at the age of fifteen with no regrets, and have had regular sex ever since. I wouldn’t call myself sex crazed, but I do enjoy it. And I’ve had sex with a variety of men. Does this make me a…slut? I don’t refer to myself that way. Of course I don’t. I just have more of an attitude like a man. They get to do whatever they want, whoever they want, and no one gives them any shit for it.

  Women who act the same way? Forget it. We’re too loose. We spread our legs too easily. It’s freaking insulting.

  Most of the time, I have sex because I want to feel something. Lose myself for a few minutes. Get out of my headspace.

  Right now, though, for some reason, all I can do is think. Think about Theo. Worry about the consequences of what we’re doing. How it will change everything. Or it can change nothing, considering I’m pretty damn good at pretending certain things never happened.

  That’s the way I need to handle this. Enjoy the moment and then act like it never, ever occurred in the first place.

  A shrill scream fills the room, both of us jerking aware.

  It’s the movie. I don’t even look at the TV to see what’s happening. Instead, I rest my hand on the center of his chest, where I can feel his heart thumping beneath my palm. His skin is so hot, and his muscles tense up from my touch. Does he not want this?

  I chance a glance at his face to see the turbulence in his dark eyes as he studies me, the determined set of his jaw. Oh, he wants this. Just as much as I do.

  Once our gazes lock, it’s on. He shrugs out his shirt. I kiss him all over his chest. His hands tug impatiently at my blouse and I help him help me out of it. He groans at first sight of me in just my bra and rains kisses on my plumped-up cleavage, his hands cupping me, his lips a teasing, too-light caress.

  I want more.

  He unhooks the bra like a man with infinite experience and I shrug out of the delicate lace. The moment he wraps his lips around my nipple, I clutch him to my chest, my eyes sliding closed at the rhythmic pull of his mouth. His lower half is lodged between my thighs and I wrap my legs around him, clinging to him. Wishing we were already naked.

  And then suddenly we are. Clothes are hastily discarded. Mouths searching skin. Hands. His fingers slip between my legs to find me drenched for him, and when he keeps stroking me there, I immediately draw closer to the edge. So close, I’m about to tumble right over in only a matter of seconds.

  He’s gone. Leaving me on the couch a gasping, shaking mess. He grabs his pants from the floor and withdraws his wallet. Digs a condom out. Tears the wrapper off and holds the ring in front of his erection.

  I watch in complete fascination as he sheathes himself. He’s big. Long. Thick. Impressive. And it takes a lot to impress me. I’ve seen plenty of dicks to know when I’ve got a high quality one in front of me.

  Theo’s is a good one. Top grade.

  Still no words are spoken. The air is filled with panting breaths, harsh inhales, shaky exhales. The movie is still going, and I assume it’s heading toward the climax. The music ramps up, becomes intense. Louder.

  Theo handles me as if he’s done so for years. He grips my hips and adjusts my body, one hand moving between my thighs to spread them wider. He’s poised above me with a knee on the couch, his cock in his hand as he draws the head through my soaked folds. A hissing sound escapes me at first contact and I toss my head back, my eyes sliding closed as he torments me with both his fingers and his erection.

  When he slides inside, I sigh with relief. I need this. More than I ever have. Once he’s fully settled, he pauses, and I squirm against him. He pulses deep within me, I can feel him and I squeeze my inner walls, wrenching a groan from his throat.

  “Fuck.” His gravelly voice does something to me. This is a version of Theo I’ve never heard or seen before. As I’ve spent more time with him, I’ve grown to like him. Maybe even become…attracted to him.

  Okay, yes. Why am I bothering to deny it when he’s literally inside my body right now? I’m very attracted to Theo. And being with this gruff, sexual version of him is…

  Hot.

  I can’t deny it.

  He starts to move. Slowly pulling out before pushing back in. I keep my eyes closed, enjoying the smooth glide of his cock moving inside me. I lift my hips, keeping rhythm with him. It’s easy. There’s no awkwardness here. We move together, picking up the pace at the same time, our skin soon growing slick with sweat. His hands bracket my hips, stilling me completely, and he starts to pound inside me. His fingers bite into my skin. His thrusts are hard. Brutal. As if he’s taking all of his aggression out on me.

  I let him. It’s hot. My stomach clenches. My clit throbs. I’m so close. My entire body tenses, and I gasp once. Twice. Three times.

  Theo finds my clit, circling it with his finger again and again.

  “Oh. Shit.” I choke the words out, the intensity of it all making my brain go fuzzy. I lick my dry lips and he kisses me, swallowing my moan, his tongue tangling with mine.

  I’m coming. His mouth, his finger, his cock. It’s all too much. I shudder and shake, a keening cry I’ve never heard before leaving me when he doesn’t let up.

  He just keeps stroking. Keeps pounding. One hand still gripping my hip, his fingers cutting into my skin. His other hand is between our bodies, fingers playing with my clit. Destroying me. It’s almost too much, and I writhe beneath him, desperate to get away.

  Desperate for him to keep touching me like that.

  “Fucking hell.” The guttural groan he makes has me right back where I started only moments ago. Teetering on the edge, ready to…come again.

  He’s fucking me so hard, his balls slap against my ass with every thrust. Blindly I reach out, my fingers making contact with his chest, and I slide them down, touching his stomach, tracing the hair that leads from his belly to his cock. It’s soft and damp and when my fingers make connection with the base of his erection, I hear a sharp intake of breath.

  “Touch yourself,” he commands, and I do it.

  His hand falls away and I stroke my clit, my fingertips brushing against him every time he shifts closer. With my free hand I cup my breast. Toy with my nipple. Crack open my eyes to find him watching me with utter fascination.

  “You’re so fucking hot,” he whispers when his eyes meet mine, and I smile. Increase my pace. I’m going to come again. I know it. And while I’m helping myself out, he also has plenty to do with this, which makes him my multiorgasmic-dream-come-true man.

  “Are you going to come?” he asks.

  I nod. “Again,” I whisper.

  He smiles, looking very pleased with himself. He is a mess. Nothing like the usual, straightlaced man I know. He’s sweaty and naked and open and raw. I glance down to watch his cock move within my body, sliding in and out, and I sink my teeth into my lower lip, clenching my inner walls around him, gripping him tight.

  “I’m gonna come too,” he admits. “Hold on.”

  I don’t get why he told me to hold on until I do. His movements become completely out of control, grunting every time he pushes inside me. I give up on stroking myself and just hang on for the ride, overwhelmed by his movements, how he takes complete command over me and I let him do it. This entire experience tonight has been so unlike any I’ve ever experienced…

  A shuddery groan escapes him as he stills above me, and I open my eyes once more to watch as he falls apart. And he does so with complete abandon. His quaking body is a beautiful sight and he pushes inside me so deep, I feel the spasms take me over too.

  Two orgasms created by one cock, I didn’t think that was possible.

  I think I’m in heaven.

  Ten

&nb
sp; Kelsey

  We still on for the BBQ at my parents’ house?

  I stare at the text from my newest sexual partner and good friend, wondering how I should respond. Hating how unsure this all makes me feel.

  What happened last night between us was one of the hottest experiences of my life. Which is absolutely mind blowing, considering who I had sex with. Sweet, unassuming Theo. My friend. The guy I had no real sexual feelings toward until last night. Who knew he was such a savage? He fucked me like he didn’t care about my feelings, and honestly?

  So hot.

  After it happened, once our heart rates calmed and our breath settled, he hurriedly pulled his clothes back on and said he had to leave. I nodded in understanding, grabbing the thin throw blanket that was draped across the back of the couch and wrapping myself up in it so I wasn’t the only naked one in the room. He offered me a kind smile, said “see you tomorrow” like no big thing, and slipped out through the front door.

  That was it. No, thanks for the fuck, or even I had a good time. Nothing.

  We had sex, he made me come twice, and then he left.

  Way too easy, right? I know for a fact he’s an emotional guy. He cares—sometimes too much. He can do long-term relationships, which means he knows how to catch feelings. Most women think that’s a fabulous trait in a man.

  Me? Not so much.

  But I was mildly offended by his behavior last night when he left so abruptly. He acted like a total player. As if I were some random one-night stand. Now he’s texting me about going to dinner at his parents’ house, for God’s sake, like nothing ever happened between us. Something I suggested we do to make us look like a legitimate couple.

  Yeah. That’s right. This was my idea.

  Deciding I should answer him, I type out a response. Yes. What time?

  He responds quickly, like he was anxiously waiting for me.

  Theo: They want us there at two. I can come pick you up, say around 1:30?