by Em Taylor
The meal was a simple buffet with all of Olivia and David’s close friends and family—more friends would be invited later for the evening do. We sat in a semi-formal seating arrangement so that when it was time for the speeches, they could be at least a little traditional.
Olivia’s father was not on the scene, and never had been, so her mum spoke in his stead. Her speech was witty and sweet, talking of the times she had despaired of Olivia ever settling down or finding something she enjoyed doing and was good at ... but loving David was the one thing she excelled at.
I swallowed a lump in my throat as I blinked back tears. When I looked over at my friend and smiled, I caught Rory’s gaze. He gave me a sad smile.
Why had I not gone after him? Why had I not fought for our relationship? It wasn’t like I caught him with his dick in someone else.
I snapped my gaze away and turned my attention back to Olivia’s mum’s speech. It was better for me not to look too deeply into the mistakes of the past. It would require me to consider I may have been a little at fault, and that was inconceivable. I had spent a long time blaming Rory for our break-up and hating him for it. He’d walked away from us. It was entirely his fault.
Rory scraped his seat back and rose to his feet. As he stood, he pulled some index cards from his jacket pocket and studied them for a moment. He twisted slightly towards the bride and groom and grimaced at David before addressing the other guests.
“Hi, I’m Rory, and I’m sure you’ve worked out that I drew the short straw of being David’s best man. I’m probably his only mate that usually doesn’t lose things so he could trust me with the rings.
I met David at university. We were waving our sticks at one another.” Rory paused and grinned as everyone laughed. “I refer of course to David’s terrible hockey playing.”
David grumbled good-heartedly. He’d been as good as Rory.
“Nothing like two guys playing with their balls. But it certainly came in handy one night in the Queen Margaret Union when we went in for a quiet drink. Our sporty physiques must have been what attracted Olivia and her best friend Lacey to us. I started going out with Lacey almost immediately,” Rory looked up at me and gave me a soft smile, “and Olivia and David became friends. They were just pals for years, and Lacey and I despaired of them ever becoming an item. However, one weekend about four years later, we all went glamping on the Isle of Skye. They wanted to see the fairy pools, and Lacey and I wanted to stay in the wigwam. Apparently, Olivia and David never saw the fairy pools in Skye, but some farmer wants to know why he has traumatised sheep.”
More laugher filled the room as my cheeks heated at the memory of what Rory and I got up to in that wigwam.
“But you know, they were absolutely made for one another. I can’t think of two people better suited to each other. As David’s best friend, I know he loves Olivia with his whole being. And I must admit, sometimes when I see them together, I feel a little jealous.” He caught my gaze and held it.
I licked my lips then swallowed.
“Jealous because David knows that what he has is precious and he’s kept it safe. To mis-quote Beyoncé: he liked it and he’s now put a ring on it, or rather her. Which, ironically, was the song playing when David first met Olivia. This all just goes to prove that David was always the brains between us. Which is just as well, I definitely had the looks.” Rory broke our connection to glance at David and Olivia.
“Sorry bro, but you’re a right ugly sod. Olivia, you’re gorgeous as always. May you both have a wonderful marriage. To Olivia and David, the bride and groom.” Rory raised his glass, his gaze finding mine again as we all stood, raising our glasses and repeating after him.
Olivia tapped me on the shoulder, and I dragged my gaze away from Rory reluctantly. “Your mum looks very interested in Rory.”
“He just made a speech.”
“She’s drawing him daggers.”
“I’ll go and sit with her and play nice.”
As people moved onto the dancefloor and the drinking started, I moved to sit beside my parents and brother. I hadn’t seen Jonas for ages since he lived in Edinburgh, so it was a good chance to catch up.
“I see the douchebag is here,” Jonas said, glowering over my shoulder at Rory.
“It’s fine, Jonas. We’re friends again.”
“Mum thinks you’re more than friends.”
Heat crept up my cheeks. I hated discussing anything to do with sex with my brother. I still thought of him as a kid even though he was a grown man.
“Sort of.”
“Sort of? Is he messing you around, Big?” Big was his nickname for me—short for Big Sis.
“No. We haven’t defined the parameters of our relationship. Not really.”
“So, it’s just shagging?”
“Jo!”
“What? For fuck’s sake, Lacey, I’m twenty-seven. I knew about the birds and the bees the first time you brought douchebag home.” He rolled his eyes. “I heard your sex noises when you came up to visit Mum and Dad more times than I care to remember. I’m surprised this poor innocent kid isn’t scarred for life.”
“You heard us?”
“My room is next door to yours. And you and he are not fucking quiet.”
“We tried to be.”
“Believe me, Big, you failed miserably.”
I buried my face in my hands. “Could you not have taken that information to the grave, you little shit?”
When I glanced up, he grinned. “Nope. If I had to suffer hearing you two, you must live with the knowledge you’ve probably damaged my mental health, you sex fiend.” He threw his head back and laughed. “Did it never occur to you my music got louder later at night? No fucking noise-cancelling headphones back then.”
I downed my drink and looked around. “I need another drink.”
“I’ll get it. I think I should, since I’ve traumatised you.” My brother patted me on the knee and flashed me a sympathetic smile which lasted for about five seconds before he broke and chuckled. The little shit was enjoying himself; I wanted to kill him.
Chapter 19
Rory
THE LAST TIME I SAW Jonas Kendrick, he’d been in handcuffs while I pleaded his case with a police officer, so he hadn’t been charged with assault when he’d punched me in Kelvingrove Art Galleries and Museum. He’d been young and not particularly good at fighting. My upbringing meant I’d only ended up being on the end of one lucky punch and had no real injuries.
When he approached the bar, I extricated myself from my conversation and walked to stand by his side.
“Jonas,” I said.
“Dickhead.” Jonas looked me up and down before turning his gaze back to the barman who was busy serving other people.
“Can we talk?”
“You’re doing my sister again, I hear.”
I drew in a breath. “I think you should talk about Lacey with a bit more respect. But yes, we’re sleeping together.”
Jonas clenched his fist around the tenner he was holding. “She’s a fucking idiot. What guarantee has she got you won’t break her heart again?”
“None, I guess. But life isn’t without risk. What guarantee do I have you’re not going to try and punch me in the face again?”
“I’ve grown up. I’m not that stupid wee boy.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Likewise.”
“You were twenty-five.”
“Yeah, well maybe you’ve matured faster than I did. You had a stable home life. I didn’t. I don’t know why, but I got scared. I think I wanted Lacey to come after me and fight for me. But she didn’t. She let me go.”
“You’re blaming my sister?” he asked, pointing over his shoulder in the general direction of his sister.
“No. It’s still my bad. However, things are never as cut and dried as they seem. She wasn’t to know that deep down that’s what I wanted when I’ve only just figured it out.”
“This is fucked up.”
“Yep.”
&
nbsp; He caught the barman’s eye and glanced at me. “You want one?”
I lifted my glass to the barman. “A pint of Tennent’s, please.”
“Make that two, and a vodka and fresh orange. Thanks.” He turned back to me. “You still play hockey?”
“Sometimes. I coach the school team so I can’t play in a senior team much because the school team often plays on Saturdays. I’m often a sub.”
“How’s the school team doing?”
I grinned. “Top of the league.”
Jonas grinned back. “Good man. I expected nothing less.”
The barman placed our drinks in front of us, and I took a swig of my beer. “What are you doing now? You went to uni to study languages, right? I felt bad about that. You seemed to hero worship me, and I worried you did it because of me.”
“Well, yeah. I wanted to follow in your footsteps. I enjoyed languages at school, and you always helped me in the holidays when you came up. I became a teacher too. I’m teaching in Edinburgh.”
“Wow. And you’re enjoying it?”
“The admin is a pain in the arse, but I love working with the kids.”
“Yep, I understand that,” I concurred.
Lacey joined us. “You two aren’t coming to blows again, are you?”
Jonas chuckled. “No. We’re fine. We’re talking about work.”
Lacey crinkled her nose. “The joys of that curriculum thing. He used to moan about it all the time.”
“Ah Curriculum for Excellence. The Scottish school system in a nutshell. Nah, we hadn’t got to that bit yet,” I said, grinning as I slipped my arm around her waist. The Neanderthal in me was claiming my woman. None of the guys in the pub were going to think they could take this beauty home.
Jonas glanced between us and pursed his lips. “Okay, I give in. You two idiots are made for each other. I have no fucking idea why you broke up and put yourselves through such misery for six years, but I guess we all make mistakes. You’re going to have a tougher sell on Mum and Dad.” He looked me in the eye. “Dad wants to castrate you and Mum sees the eldest son who abandoned her. They cared for you, and they think you two are just friends. They may have taken you two sleeping together in their stride when you were nineteen, but they think you’re born again virgins now and are hoping what they walked in on a week ago was a one-off lapse of judgement.”
“Maybe I should talk to them,” Lacey said.
Jonas shook his head. “I wouldn’t do it tonight. They’re enjoying themselves. Maybe tomorrow.”
Lacey nodded.
“Oh, and Rory ...” Jonas waited for me to meet his hard stare. “Hurt her again and I won’t waste my time punching you. I’ll kill you and hide your body. I have pals in the army who’ll help.”
“I understand.”
Jonas turned on his heels and went back to sit with his parents.
“How long do we need to stay?” I asked, squeezing Lacey’s waist. “I want to fuck you.”
“Till after the bride and groom leave.”
I dropped my chin to my chest and exhaled. It was going to be a long night.
I STAYED AWAY FROM Lacey the rest of the evening so her parents didn’t become suspicious. Thankfully, she only danced with other women, but when she caught me watching her, her dancing became more provocative. Despite being grateful a kilt was pretty forgiving when it came to hiding one’s state of arousal, I spent a lot of time sitting down to make sure no one noticed the bridesmaid giving me a painful boner.
As David and Olivia said their goodbyes, David pulled me in for a one-armed hug and whispered in my ear. “Don’t fuck this up.”
“Shouldn’t I be saying that to you?” I chuckled.
“I haven’t so far, but you have. Phone me if you’re thinking of doing anything stupid. I’ll talk you down.”
“I don’t think that’s likely to happen.”
“We thought that before.” He slapped me on the arm. “I’m here for you, man.”
“Okay. But I’m good this time.”
“Excellent.”
“Have a good honeymoon.”
“Will do.”
We turned to find our respective partners hugging, crying, and declaring their undying love to each other. When Lacey turned away to move towards me for a hug, her mother spun her around and hugged her instead. An aching hole opened in my gut. Even though it wasn’t a rejection by Lacey but by Maureen, it still hurt like hell. It said I wasn’t good enough to comfort her daughter, and I would never be good enough for Lacey. Not now. Not ever.
I grabbed my rucksack from behind the bar where I’d left it before the ceremony and left the pub, choosing to wait around the corner for Lacey to make her own exit. It was ridiculous. Why were two people in their thirties sneaking around like teenagers?
Ten minutes later, Lacey hurried over to me. “Oh my God, I thought I’d never get away. I need you so badly. Let’s get back to the hotel so I can suck your cock.”
I swivelled around and clasped her cheeks in my hand. Pushing her up against the wall, I lowered my head and covered her lips with mine.
“There are plenty of deserted alleyways in the centre of town. We don’t have to wait until we get back to the hotel, baby.” I ground my hips against hers so she could feel the hard ridge of my cock against her belly.
“Tempting, but you’ll end up on the sex offenders register if we get caught and you’ll not be able to teach if you do.”
I groaned. “Good point. It’s a nice fantasy, though.”
She pushed her hand between us and wrapped it around my erection through the wool of my kilt. “For what it’s worth, I would love to do exactly that. Maybe I could jerk you off and the kilt would cover what I’m doing.”
She burrowed her hand under the tartan material. The temptation was strong, but I caught her wrist.
“Let’s get back to the hotel. I’m not doing anything that makes it look like I picked you up on Cadogan Street and am paying you for your favours. You’re worth much more to me than a hand job in a dark alley.” My reference to the street where Glasgow’s prostitutes hung out made Lacey move her hand away.
“I thought you couldn’t wait,” she said in a small voice. “You were the one talking blow jobs in dark alleys a moment ago.”
I moved my lips to her ear and twined my fingers through hers. “I know. I contradict myself because you mess with my damned mind. I don’t want to wait because I want to have naked touching with you at all times, but I need to remember we’re adults. No more snogging on street corners and getting so wrapped up in each other we’re practically doing it in public. Sure, I loved the thrill when we were young, but you’re right. The last thing I need is to end up with my face in the paper under the headline Excusez-Moi Monsieur Blow Job.”
She giggled and started to walk. “Fair point, Monsieur. Taxi or walk?”
“You’re the one in heels.”
“They’re not high. And it’s not far.”
A TEN-MINUTE WALK TO the Hilton turned into a thirty-minute one. Every so often, I pushed her against the railings of one of the shops or offices and kissed her thoroughly before taking her hand again and walking on as if nothing had happened. I wanted to ask her the question I asked at the City Chambers again, but I was scared to kill the mood. We’d got back to light-hearted, and I didn’t dare spoil the night.
We stumbled into the lift, entwined in each other’s arms, Lacey giggling as I tickled her waist. It was an excuse to keep her close, but I also I loved her laugh—to be the one to cause it again.
“Rory ... stop,” she choked out, spinning around in my arms.
She peered up through her lashes and met my gaze. The second our eyes met, I stopped tickling her, too focused on her plump lips coated in pink lipstick that was smeared around the edges. I swallowed, my throat dry.
Lacey sucked in a breath through her slightly parted lips and ran her hands up my back. Continuing over my shoulders, she reached the back of my neck and pressed down, coaxing m
e forward.
I leaned in, our lips centimetres from each other. Her breath caressed my skin, hot and inviting.
The lift doors pinged closed and I tensed. Straightening, I unlocked her arms from around my neck and stepped back, clearing my throat.
Lacey arched an eyebrow.
I pointed to the corner of the lift. “There are cameras. None of those peeping Toms in security are getting an eyeful of me sucking your tits,” I said, taking a lingering look at her cleavage. Her dress should have been illegal. Her breasts looked phenomenal in it—pushed up and in, seeming bigger and firmer.
Her gaze followed mine to her cleavage then she lifted her face and our gazes locked.
“Suck my tits, huh?”
“Fuck, yes.”
Lacey licked her lips and glanced up at the numbers counting slowly up to ten.
The lift needed to hurry the fuck up.
It arrived at our floor, and Lacey grabbed my hand to pull me out of the lift and along the corridor. She fumbled with her key card so much I plucked it from her hand, pushing it into the slot, and gaining us entry to the room. I placed it into the electricity unit, and the lights above the bed came on, blanketing the room in a warm glow.
I dropped my rucksack as Lacey kicked off her heels and shrugged out of a shawl.
“I loved your spee—”
“Fuck the speech.” I toppled her onto the bed and covered her body with mine, cupping her face and lowering my head to kiss her.
She turned her cheek to me. “What about the blow job?”
“Don’t you want something more refined than me pushing you to your knees and sticking my dick in your mouth?”
Her mouth broke into a grin. “Not sure that I do. I thought rough and ready was the name of the game.”
“I was going to ... make love to you. I thought a wedding would make you feel romantic.” Sure, I’d been horny when we left the pub. Still was. I couldn’t be in the presence of Lacey and not want to be inside her somehow—fucking her pussy, fucking her mouth, fucking her up the arse. Even though we’d only tried that a couple of times when we were younger, she’d seemed to enjoy it. And I definitely had.