My (Mostly) Fake Wedding

by Bloom, Penelope

  I awkwardly shuffled us back into the shower and set her down. I was still fully clothed, so I started peeling away my clinging clothes. Belle appeared eager to jump in, grabbing my belt and yanking it free.

  I had to have myself a little moment as the water pattered against the growing pile of clothes at my feet as Belle in every bit of her glorious nudity crouched down and freed my cock, which was comically hard already.

  Painters and artists since the beginning of history had tried to capture beauty and the meaning of life. But I could’ve saved them the trouble if they just asked. The most beautiful thing in the world was a horny woman who wanted nothing more than to devour your cock. Then again, what if they’d known all this time but just couldn’t get the churches for go for stained glass windows featuring endless scenes of medieval fellatio?

  Questions to ponder another time, Chris.

  I did make one amendment to my thought, though. It couldn’t just be any woman. This particular woman seemed to bring the natural beauty of cock-mongering to another level. Maybe it was because I knew she was probably going to start the desperate and doomed process of denying any of this ever happened as soon as we were done. By tomorrow, she’d be acting like she could live without doing this again.

  It was okay. She could play her side of the game and I’d happily enjoy my side, especially if it was sprinkled with moments like this.

  “Why are you smiling? Did I do something wrong?” Belle had her hand around the base of my cock. She was inspecting it like you might survey an obstacle course before taking your first step.

  “I was wondering what was going through your head. You look scared of it.”

  She gave me an adorable little smile. “Can I be honest about something?”

  I thought about it. Personally, I wasn’t a gigantic fan of the idea of taking a break to talk. After all, unless she had a hidden talent for ventriloquy, that meant I’d need to wait longer for her lips to be around my shaft. But I nodded, because even with as much as I wanted to dive into this moment, I found myself worrying about what came next, too.

  Strange. I wasn’t usually the type to care about the longevity of a relationship, if that’s what Belle and I even had at this point.

  “Go ahead,” I said softly. “Speak your mind into the microphone. I’m listening.”

  Belle looked at my cock, which was pointed at her mouth while she gripped it just like a microphone. She snorted, then tapped its swollen head a few times and cleared her throat. “I have a confession.”

  “Sexy. Okay.”

  “This isn’t the sexy kind. It’s the embarrassing kind.” She took a deep breath, which had the enjoyable side effect of drawing my eyes to her breasts—large, natural, water-dappled, and absolutely perfect, for the record.

  “Okay,” she said. “I kind of concocted this whole thing to make this happen. I feel too bad not to admit that before anything possibly goes farther.”

  “Possibly? We’re so far past possibly that you’d need to tell me you’re some kind of extra-terrestrial dick-eating creature inside that body. Even then I’m not sure I’d have the self-control to stop.”

  She smiled crookedly. “Don’t be so sure. I’m not actually scared of spiders. That one is actually my pet, Leg-olas.”

  I stared down at her. “Can I note that the fact you’re still ‘talking into the mic’ is adorable?”

  “Does that mean you’re not mad?”

  “That you unleashed your pet spider, risked his life and my own just to lure me into your shower because you were horny?” I knelt down, taking her face in mine so I could look her in the eyes. “It’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me.”

  She made a little snorting sound of disbelief. “More like the most pathetic.”

  “You keep this up, and I’m not going to want to let you out of this whole fake marriage, even after I get my contract.”

  Belle had been smiling, but her expression fell.

  “That was a joke,” I said quickly, except I wasn’t entirely sure I was telling the truth.

  “Yeah,” she said. “So, um, may I?”

  I didn’t think I could think of a single time in my life that a woman had ever asked permission to suck my cock. “Let me just tweak one thing first…”

  19

  Belle

  Chris Rose officially made me lose my mind. He took normal, rational, logical Belle and threw it all out the window. Around him, I could be thinking straight one minute and then on my knees with my ass and pussy in his face the next.

  Because, yes, that’s where I found myself. “Like this?” I asked. I could’ve dwelled on about a thousand reasons to be self-conscious, and maybe with another guy I would’ve been. Compromising didn’t even begin to describe my position.

  Chris had insisted that he couldn’t wait to “taste me,” and showed me how to position myself so we could both go at each other simultaneously. I’d never been with a guy who was even remotely adventurous enough to suggest sixty-nine.

  I’d spent the last few minutes getting an up-close and personal view of Chris’ cock. The idea of giving a guy a blowjob had never been really high on my desirability chart, but I was embarrassingly hungry to do it to Chris.

  I jolted forward a little when I felt his mouth between my legs. He tugged my hips, forcing me to sink down a little, which let him drive his tongue more firmly against me.

  The water was splashing on my shoulder blades and dripping from me to his chiseled body. I had to adjust to the white-hot explosion of pleasure between my legs for a few moments before I remembered I was gripping his cock in my fist.

  I took his silky head in my mouth, circling it with my tongue while I pumped my fist up and down. He was so long that I felt like I was barely getting any of him in my mouth, but if the way he was already groaning against my pussy was any sign, I was doing good enough.

  I loved the feeling of power—how what I was doing to him seemed to directly translate to how passionately he moved his tongue and mouth against me.

  Chris was a magician with his tongue, which he would press against my clit and glide all along my folds. He’d use the tip to circle me, then drive inside my entrance and fuck me with it.

  Any sense of shame went out the window. I humped his face and pumped my fist against him as my moans echoed off the shower walls.

  The ghost of a thought haunted me—that there was a point after this moment, a point where I’d need to consider all the millions of implications what we were doing might have. But I pressed it down as soon as it rose in my mind.

  My body clenched against an orgasm as I came. Before I was even through, he was repositioning me.

  “I want you to ride me,” Chris said. For once in his life, he didn’t have that trademark grin of his on. He looked deadly serious, and as much as I’d come to enjoy his goofy side, it was hot to see him so serious.

  I straddled him and put my hands on his chest, gently easing his huge length into me. Chris gripped himself at the base, pumping into me as I rocked up and down. He didn’t move his hand from himself, which gave me a delightful little brush of friction against my clit every time I pushed my hips down into him.

  Chris’ mouth was half open and his eyes were locked on mine. I met them, then had to look away. It felt too intimate, as ridiculous as that was to say.

  This was just another fling.

  One more meaningless hook up.

  Except when I met his eyes it felt like more than that. It felt real. Like I was currently sitting on top of my actual fiancé, and not just my fake one.

  Chris put his strong grip on my hips, pulling me down onto himself and filling me with every last inch of himself he could. I sagged forward, feeling suddenly spent and exhausted. The line between orgasm and everything else was blurring, and my head was pounding with an unceasing rush of white-hot pleasure. I could practically feel it rushing through my veins and tingling all the way to my fingertips.

  Chris’ pace increased, ev
en as it felt like all I could really do was lean forward with my palms on the wet tiles beside him. I was hanging on for dear life.

  The only sounds were our mingled breaths and the wet slap of our bodies colliding.

  Chris skillfully flipped me over and pulled himself out just as his pace had reached a peak. He took himself in his hand and positioned himself over me. When he came, he did it on my stomach.

  Neither of us moved at first, chests heaving. Eventually, Chris leaned down and planted a tender kiss on my mouth. It wasn’t like the kisses before. It wasn’t the kind of kiss that you took when you weren’t sure when the next would come. It was the type of kiss you gave to someone when you knew they’d be there tomorrow.

  He was smiling down at me. “I was worried I built that up to be better than I remembered.”

  “Did you?”

  “No. I’d forgotten how amazing it is.”

  I grinned. “You’re only saying that so I’ll let you do it again.”

  “Is that option on the table?”

  “No. I don’t know. Maybe.” I shook my head, closing my eyes. “No. It’s not smart for us to get involved like this. Again.”

  “The majority of fun things in life aren’t smart. That’s what makes them fun.”

  “We should get cleaned up.”

  “We’re in the shower. Is there something wrong with your water I should know about?”

  I gave him a look, then got up and ran soap over myself, especially my stomach where he’d came all over me. “What is it with guys and wanting to shoot their jizz on women, anyway?”

  Chris came from behind me, wrapping his arms around my chest and kissing my neck. I tried to will myself to slip out of his grasp, because it wasn’t the sort of thing you did after a meaningless hook up. It was too tender. Again.

  Except all I did was stand there, enjoying the slick sensation of our wet bodies pressed together and his still hard length pinned against my lower back.

  “Why?” he asked in my ear. “You want me to come inside you next time? Or do a one-eighty and shoot it at the wall? Maybe aim it straight up and we can play some full-ball roulette to see who catches it on the way down?”

  “You’re ridiculous. And no. I just wondered what it is that makes guys want to do it so badly.”

  “Are you telling me there’s a long list of guys who have finished on you before?”

  I smirked. Was that jealousy I detected? “No. Would you just answer the question?”

  Chris kissed my earlobe, then gave it a playful little nip with his teeth. “I was marking you. That way you’ll remember who you belong to for the next few months.”

  I wanted to correct him. I should have corrected him. Except all I did was stand there and smile like the idiot I was.

  20

  Chris

  For some reason, Belle insisted that I bring someone else with me when we went to pick out tuxes for the wedding. For some other reason, Belle also didn’t accept my answer that I already had several perfectly good tuxes. Apparently, it was important that my tux actually matched her dress.

  So I brought Damon’s wife, Chelsea, and Luna. I guess I should’ve started thinking of Chelsea as my “sister-in-law,” but that was weird. It still felt like a few weeks ago when I was sure my stick-up-his-ass of a brother would be forever alone.

  Chelsea and Luna were both dressed in tennis gear, and Chelsea had apparently taken it upon herself to bring her friend, Milly as well.

  I met them all inside the shop before Belle arrived.

  Luna hugged my leg, and we did our usual routine where I got on my knees and started play punching her in slow motion. She blocked like I’d showed her, then surprised me with a vicious uppercut that I sold like a professional wrestler.

  I was on the ground cupping my chin in mock agony when Belle walked into the store. She paused, looked down at me, then turned her focus to Chelsea. “Do I even want to know?”

  “Probably not,” Chelsea said. The women all made introductions while I got off the ground and dusted myself off.

  Luna was staring up at Belle with her hands on her hips. “If you and Uncle Chris get married, will you be my mom?”

  Chelsea had that age-old look of a mother who didn’t have enough left in the tank to tackle the hundredth strange question of the day. I decided to jump in and save her the trouble.

  “When Belle and I get married, she’s going to be your aunt. That’s if I let her out of bed long enough to do the job, I mean.”

  Milly and Chelsea both gave me the eyeball equivalent of kicks in the shin.

  “You’re going to make her sleep?” Luna’s face was scrunched while she tried to process what I’d said. She turned to Belle. “I hate naps, too. Mommy always says ‘I’ma knock you out if you pop out of that room one more time little missy!’”

  Chelsea went a little red. “Mommy says that jokingly, you should add.”

  Luna just shrugged.

  Belle cleared her throat. “We should go ahead and start picking out tuxes.”

  “All business today,” I said. “That’s a change of pace from yesterday.”

  My comment drew curious looks from Chelsea and Milly.

  Milly took me by the arm and pulled me aside. She was Chelsea’s best friend and an aspiring tennis pro. She had freckles dotting her upturned nose, which was currently scrunched in annoyance. “Chris. I know you’re not playing with a full deck, but you’re obviously making that woman uncomfortable. Would it kill you to take it easy?”

  “I can’t control who gets uncomfortably aroused when they’re in the same room as me.”

  Milly didn’t even glare, which was probably a sign that she’d been forced to endure me enough to build up a tolerance. “You’ve already corrupted Luna enough. Maybe try modeling a healthy adult relationship for a change?”

  I spread my palms in surrender. “Okay, okay. I’ll try to behave.” More, at least.

  One of the employees at the store took a liking to Luna and whisked her and Chelsea off so Luna could try on any dresses small enough for her.

  Belle and Milly shadowed me as I browsed the tuxes.

  “Okay,” I said after running my hand along a row of them. “So what will match your dress best? Black, or black? Or maybe something with a little touch of black would be nice?”

  “It’s not even worth trying to explain it to you, is it?” Belle asked.

  “It’s really not,” Milly said. “I’ve learned it’s easiest to deal with him if you just pretend he’s a giant, cute puppy.”

  A few minutes later, Belle held a tux up to me, conferred with Milly, then nodded. “Go try this on.”

  I took it and headed into a dressing room. She was trying to play it cold after last night and the incident with the spider. Honestly, I felt bad for the spider. Belle had been so horny she’d thrown the poor guy in the line of fire. What if I hadn’t listened and whacked him with a shoe? What would you even say at the funeral? Thanks for sacrificing yourself so momma could get that dick she needed so desperately.

  But still, I had to admire the length’s she’d gone to for a little piece of action from me.

  If she thought I was going to let things continue like nothing had happened, well… Then she really didn’t know me well enough yet.

  I could hear her muttering with Milly about something outside the dressing room.

  I stood there, racking my brain for some elegant, subtle way to let her know that I knew she still couldn’t stop thinking about me. But what was the perfect move?

  That was when it hit me. Minus the subtle, elegant part, at least.

  21

  Belle

  It felt like it had been too long. Milly was giving me tips on picking out shoes that wouldn’t hurt my feet—a subject she was apparently very passionate about. That was when I heard Chris at the door of the dressing room.

  “Uh, Belle? Can you come in here a sec?”

  Milly and I exchanged a look. We both must have assumed he just wan
ted help with a button or something, and Milly followed me in as I pulled the door open. We froze before we’d taken a step into the room.

  Chris Rose was standing with his fists on his hips, naked as the day he was born. His proud smile faded when he noticed Milly was beside me. There was also a bowtie neatly done and tied to sit just above his...

  Both our eyes went down to his extremely erect penis. I rushed forward, using my body to cover him from Milly, who appeared too stunned to react.

  “Oh,” Chris said. “You should at least wait until she’s not in the room.”

  Of course, in an effort to cover him up, I’d pressed myself against his naked body—and his erection, which was digging into my belly.

  Milly started laughing hysterically just as I turned my head and saw Chelsea round the corner. Thankfully, they probably couldn’t see much anymore with me in front of him, but I could only imagine what Chelsea must’ve thought at the sight of us.

  The door swung shut before Luna could get a glimpse, and I heard hushed, harsh whispers along with Luna’s little voice and a million questions.

  I pushed off Chris, then gave his chest a little shove. “What the hell are you doing? Did you lose your mind in here?”

  “I didn’t ask for Milly to come with you,” he said, chuckling. “Shouldn’t my wifey have a little more natural possessiveness than to let another woman into my dressing room?”

  I threw his pants at him, which he thankfully held over himself, even if it wasn’t with much shame. I could still see way, way too much, and this was about the last place in the world I wanted to get all hot and bothered. I used my usual trick of looking above his head, hoping my peripheral vision wouldn’t absorb too much.

  “I’m not your wifey. And you’d been in here so long I figured you were dressed.”

  Chris shrugged.

  “What were you trying to accomplish, anyway? And why are you so hard?”

  Chris moved the pants away from his cock, which was still full-mast and throbbing. I hated that the sight of it made my knees want to go weak. I hated that he could blunt force me over the head with how much I wanted him. I wished I didn’t crave him like I did, but I did my best to pretend it wasn’t affecting me.