Fuck.
She's still wearing her fucking glasses.
She encompasses me with her soft, wet mouth. Her eyelids press together for a moment. Then they're open and she's focused on me.
God damn.
I tug at her hair as pleasure spreads through my body.
"Fuck, Jess." My gaze goes to the mirror. I watch her work. But that isn't enough.
I need her feeling good too.
I slide my hands down her chest, playing with her nipples. She groans against my cock, sucking harder, taking me deeper.
My last conscious thought slips away. My hand slides to the back of her head, guiding her deeper. Deeper.
She sucks harder. Flicks her tongue against my tip again and again.
Her eyes fix on mine, this look that fucking commands me.
I keep my eyes glued to hers as I race towards an orgasm. My legs shake enough I can barely stay standing. I press my back into the wall. I tug at that gorgeous hair. I squeeze her nipple.
"I'm gonna come in your mouth, baby."
She groans, sucking harder, taking me deeper.
Then I'm there. I groan, my cock pulsing as I fill her mouth. I feel the orgasm all the way in my fucking toes.
Fuck.
My brain is mush. My hands fall to my sides.
She pushes herself up and gets back in her bra and tank top.
Then her lips are on mine. She sighs with pleasure and need between kisses. Her tongue slides into my mouth. Her hands dig into my hair.
She looks up at me. "We should go before we get arrested."
I nod.
I'm putty. Whatever she wants.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Jess
Thank God for room service. We spend the entire night and most of the next day in bed. If it weren't for the little matter of me needing to be present to pick up my dress—the tailor has to make sure all the alterations fit right—I'd stay pressed against him until the last possible minute.
The dress is perfect, like a dream. I lose half an hour staring in the mirror, imaging what it will feel like walking down the aisle, imagining the look in Pete's eyes when he sees me.
This is really happening.
It's really happening tomorrow.
The rest of my errands blur together. Madison does most of it. She helps me pick out a short ivory dress and matching shoes for the rehearsal dinner.
She's taking care of the dress, the agenda, and tonight's rehearsal dinner-slash-bachelorette party.
Wait, bachelorette party?
***
Madison stays mum about party details all afternoon.
Even on the way to dinner, in a much too fast yellow cab with our lives flashing before our eyes, she stays silent about the debauchery she has planned.
The event isn't quite a rehearsal dinner. It's not quite a Christmas Eve gathering. It's a combination of the two.
The cab drops us off at the Excalibur, the hotel that looks like a cartoon version of a Medieval castle. Madison leads the way through the casino. We're at one of the restaurants, in a private room.
The sand-beige walls are covered in red tinsel and tiny white string lights. There's a massive Christmas tree in the corner, adorned with white and gold ornaments.
And everyone is here, at one long table.
It's overwhelming how packed the room feels. With friends. With family. With love.
Dad gets up first. Thanksgiving was only a month ago, but he already looks much stronger. There's more color in his face. He's put on some weight. His clothes fit better.
He looks healthy. Tired, but healthy.
There's some awkwardness as he moves toward me. It's going to be a long time before this scar fades. Right now, I'm not worried about his recovery or how lying for him, for years, hurt me.
Right now, I'm happy my dad is here for Christmas. And for my wedding.
I throw my arms around him and squeeze tightly. "How was your flight?"
"Long." He steps backward. "You look beautiful, Jessie. I can't believe you're this grown up."
I blink back a tear. I can hardly believe it either. "I'm glad you're here." I wipe my eyes. Thank God for waterproof makeup. I'm going to be bawling on and off for the next twenty-four hours. "We're having a dry reception."
He nods.
"Will you... will you walk me down the aisle?"
His expression fills with a mix of relief and joy. "Of course, Jessie. I never thought you'd ask." He smiles. "I have something for you." He reaches for something on the table, a small wrapped box. "This was your mother's. It's something old and something borrowed." He hands me the box.
I look to Pete. He's at the front of the table. He's leaning against his chair, his eyes fixed on me.
"I thought we said no presents," I say.
"Afraid no one listened." He nods to a stack of presents under the tree.
"Those are for us?" I ask.
He nods.
I look around the room. Everyone is smiling. They're happy for us. And they're waiting for me to open this.
Okay, I can do that. I peel off the wrapping and open the lid. It's a necklace, a beautiful silver chain with a diamond pendant. I can remember Mom wearing it a few times. It was for special occasions.
"Thank you." I wipe a tear from my eyes. I always figured Mom took this with her. I hug Dad again for good measure.
He steps out of the way.
Then Madison takes her turn hugging me. "I should have given you this earlier. You don't need to open it now. But it's something new and something blue." She leans in to whisper in my ear. "It's a blue thong that says I do in crystals. You can wear it tomorrow if you want."
She steps back with a wink.
Okay, not opening that in front of my father. Or in front of my groom. Pete shoots me a let me in on the secret look.
I shake my head. He's going to enjoy discovering that surprise.
I set the present on the table. "Thanks, Maddie." I better not linger on thoughts of him tearing off my dress and ripping off my bridal panties. I have an entire night to get through.
Tom and Willow take their turn. He's back to his usual bouncy, mayhem-causing self.
He hugs me then nudges Pete. The brothers hug. It's the usual guy, we don't want to get too close hug.
Willow hugs me. "I'm glad to see you two happy." She steps back and turns to Tom. "Can I?"
"Go for it, kid."
She pulls an envelope from her purse and hands it to me. "It's a helicopter tour. It's Jurassic Park-themed. We went on it, and it's amazing."
Tom shoots Pete a knowing look. "If you can manage to drag yourself out of bed and into your clothes."
Pete chuckles. "Can't make any promises."
"It's perfect. Thank you," I say.
Willow smiles. She looks to Tom. "I told you they'd like it."
"Twenty bucks says they don't make it," Tom says.
"Deal." She shakes his hand then they're back in their seats.
Meg and Miles step up next. They take their turns giving me and Pete hugs.
Then Meg hands me a small, wrapped box. "Wait until the honeymoon to open this." She leans in to whisper. "It's a couple's vibrator."
"What was that, Princess?" Miles cocks a brow.
She nudges him. "He's full of shit. He picked it out. Actually, he picked out one for us, and it's very..." She clears her throat, blushing as she smiles. "You'll like it."
"Only like?" Miles teases.
"You'll like it a lot," Meg corrects. She squeezes me again. "Hate to see Tom win any bet, but there's no shame in staying in bed all week." She, too, winks on her way back to her seat.
Next up are Kara and Drew. When they dropped the we're pregnant news, they looked more worried than happy. Right now, they're beaming.
She pulls something from her purse. Tickets—five of them. "Hope you're up for a fun night." She brandishes the tickets—they're for the hotel's male strip revue, The Thunder from Down Under.
&nb
sp; I look back to my groom. "You had something to do with this?"
He's grinning from ear to ear. "We missed Chippendale's. Figured you'd prefer doing something with the girls."
I have girls. I really do have girls. Willow, Meg, Kara, and Madison are here for me. They're happy for us.
They're my friends. My family.
Shit, I'm crying again.
I've never felt this loved or accepted.
I hug Kara again. "Thank you."
She laughs. "Don't thank me until you see the tiara."
"And the sash!" Meg chimes in.
God help me.
***
Dinner is full of love, congratulations, and good food. We don't leave until the last possible moment.
The girls turn me into a properly mortified bride-to-be quickly.
The sash isn't bad. It's a white piece of satin with the word, Bride, in silver letters.
But the tiara.
Oh lord, the tiara. It's quite the novelty item. Usually, a tiara has gems at each point. This one has plastic penises at each point.
Every time I catch my reflection, I burst into a fit of laughter. And a few tears.
By the time we're at the venue, I've laughed so much my stomach is aching.
It's a small theater, and our table is right in front. I have primo seats to watch a bunch of Australian hunks strip.
What a life.
The girls take turns taking selfies with me as the venue fills. Slowly, the lights go from bright to dim.
A cocktail waitress stops by to take our orders and drop off waters.
Meg and Willow pass on alcohol.
Madison orders some special drink with a ridiculous name for herself. She orders another for me. "It's your bachelorette party. You must."
"Okay." She has a point. "But just one."
Kara orders a club soda. She looks at me. "How are Drew and I the last to get married?"
Meg laughs. "Drew would marry you in a heartbeat."
Kara nods. "I know. But we have our date in June. I'll be nearly eight months pregnant, but fuck it—that's life."
"You can have a honeymoon, babymoon combination," Willow says.
"A babymoon?" Madison asks.
"You go away before the baby. I'm not sure it ever caught on the way honeymoons did." She turns to Meg. "When do you and Miles leave?"
"About an hour after the wedding." Meg shoots me an apologetic look. "We might miss the last dance."
"We might miss the last dance." I laugh. "I'm not sure how much reception I'll be able to take before I drag my groom to our hotel room."
Kara laughs. "You look like such a nice girl, Jess, but you're just as much of a pervert as he is."
"And you aren't?" I ask.
She nods. "True."
"We're all sex freaks," Meg says. "But it's not our fault. Those Sinful men would turn any reasonable woman into a pervert. Sorry, Madison."
Madison laughs. "It's okay. I'm not jealous."
"Not at all?" Meg asks.
"Maybe a little," Madison admits. "They're all fucking hot."
"I'll drink to that." Kara lifts her water glass.
We take turns toasting our waters until the waitress drops off cocktails.
Damn, that's sugary. And full of booze. It's some mix of tequila, lime, passion fruit, and grenadine.
The lights dim. For a moment, the room is full of shrieks and screams—it's quite reminiscent of the moment in a Sinful Serenade show when Miles or Tom strips—then it's silent.
The stage lights turn on. The curtain pulls open. Half a dozen tall, built men step onto stage wearing loose pants, sneakers, and fedoras. They thrust to an 80s rock song.
It's ridiculous and hilarious.
A few more sips, and it's really, really hilarious. At the end of the song, the men pull off their snap pants to reveal tight black briefs.
They're good looking, sure, but none of them have anything on Pete.
I really would prefer a striptease from him.
But a bachelorette party with my friends laughing beside me- that's good too.
I relax and let the excitement of the night wash over me. The alcohol does help with my fuck, I'm getting married tomorrow nerves.
By the end of the show, I'm giddy and a little bit drunk.
Everything is a blur of good lucks and I'm happy for yous. Then Meg and Madison are walking me to my room, making sure I drink plenty of water, and helping me into bed.
I'm getting married tomorrow.
It's really happening.
I fall asleep next to my half-naked groom.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Pete
The coordinator pops her head into the room. "Five minutes, gentlemen." Her voice is even, calm.
She's good at her fucking job. Wish our stage manager was that calm when he announced five minutes. Damn, if I had to deal with the way Jim screams that we're going to miss curtain, that the crowd will get restless if we don't hurry up and get ready to wait for the crew to finish setting up our gear-
Fuck. I'm about ready to throw up as it is.
Five minutes.
Five minutes till I marry Jess.
My hands are shaking. All of me is shaking. I turn so I won't get any shit from Tom. He's been with me most of the day. It's been a long day.
I've felt every minute of nerves. The God damn things are a snowball, getting bigger and bigger the closer we get to show time.
Tom laughs. It's friendly rather than mocking. He nods to a bottle of whiskey on the back table. "Take a shot. It will relax you."
"No."
There's some quaint name for this room. The groom's quarters. Something to make the space seem grand and impressive when it's really a small, white room, decorated only with a few chairs and a table. Hell, there's not even food in here—not that I want to attempt to eat anything.
I barely managed to eat lunch.
"I've never seen you this nervous." Tom nods to the booze again. "You sure?"
"Yeah." I shrug my shoulders and take a deep breath. That should help with the nerves, but instead, I feel airy. "I want to be lucid for every second of this."
Tom smiles. "Have you always been this cheesy?"
"You tell me."
He nods. "You have. That how you got a nice girl to marry you?"
"Not sure. How did you do it?"
"Fuck if I know. You have any insights? I know you think about shit besides sex when you're sitting around looking pensive."
"Occasionally."
My brother's green eyes are lit up with mischief. But he's nervous too. It's all over his face.
The man is a ball of manic energy. It's good for drums. But it also means he's a ball of nerves before every performance.
Especially the big ones.
Usually, I'm the steady one. Usually, I talk him down.
"Fuck, playing the Grammys was nothing compared to this." Again, I shrug my shoulders. Again, it does nothing to help me feel like I'm touching the ground.
"You were nervous?" Tom asks.
I nod.
"Couldn't tell."
Tom adjusts my tie. He's an inch or two shorter than I am, but right now, there's something tall and imposing about him.
"You're gonna be good at married life." His voice is encouraging.
This is a pep talk.
Or something.
I nod. "Two months and you're an expert?"
"Yep." He positions the knot. "It's all about making her happy and making sure you make decisions together. You already got that figured out."
"Right."
"Fuck, Pete. I think you're actually green. You gonna be okay?"
"You're an asshole."
"I know. But are you?"
He's right. I don't get nervous. I don't know how to deal with it.
"Take a deep breath. Here." He grabs a bottle of water and hands it to me. "I know you don't want to drink it. Do it anyway."
My hands are shaking enough I'm worried
I'm going to spill. But fuck it. I down the water bottle in a few gulps.
I take another breath. Another. Another.
That's better.
The coordinator pops her head in. "One minute. You ready?"
Tom looks at me, shaking his head as if to say, you've got it bad. He nods to her. "Yeah. We'll be ready."
"How were you as fucking calm as you were before your wedding?"
"Kept thinking about Willow." He smiles. "That made everything else fade away."
Fuck, my brother is a genius.
I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and let my mind fill with thoughts of Jess. My mind goes straight to Jess naked, screaming my name. That helps with my nerves. But fuck, it would be awkward walking down the aisle with a hard-on. I steer my mind to more appropriate places.
The way she curled up next to me last night.
The smile on her face all through dinner.
Her blue eyes lit up with joy as she took in the cactus garden.
I work backward through a thousand other happy memories. Her jumping into my arms as she agreed to marry me. Her falling off then getting back on her surf board at our lesson. And again, at our other lesson. Took her a while to get the hang of it, but she was laughing, having fun.
That's gonna be our life together.
We might fall off, might land messy, might make fucking fools of ourselves—but we're gonna have fun. We're gonna be happy.
"You're up, Tom." The coordinator pulls the door open. She looks to me. "You ready, Pete? Only one more minute."
Tom looks at me like he thinks I might back out.
I nod. "Yeah. Ready."
Tom pats me on the shoulder. "Good luck, man." He steps out of the room.
I can just hear him and Madison exchanging a hello. Their words blur together.
It's just them.
Then me and Mom.
Then Jess and her dad.
Then it's us at the altar. We're really fucking getting married.
Time is that same strange mix of fast and slow. It's similar to being on stage, only more intense, more terrifying, and utterly without a task to occupy my mind.
There's another knock on the door. It's the coordinator. She's saying words, but I'm not hearing them. I can see her mouth moving, but I haven't got a clue what she's saying.
Mom is standing there in a short teal dress. She smiles and offers her arm. "You ready, Peter?"
Sinful Ever After (Sinful Serenade #5) Page 31