The Wedding Game

by Meghan Quinn

  I’m in a state of sexual purgatory, with no relief in sight if he keeps this up, so I do something I know will tip him over the edge.

  I squeeze myself around him just as he thrusts inside me.

  “Holy . . . oh fuck, Luna.” He stops, breathing heavily. “Don’t do that.”

  He pushes in again, and I squeeze.

  “God dammit.” I do it again and again until he roars, pins my hands over my head, and loses all control. Just what I need.

  He fucks me.

  He wanted slow, he wanted to draw it out, but not anymore.

  He gives me what I want.

  Hard. Sloppy. Uncoordinated.

  And oh so delicious.

  “Yes, yes . . . ,” I moan as I feel the orgasm mounting, ready to spill over. “I’m there, Alec, I’m there.”

  He groans against my shoulder, bites down, and then unleashes a flurry of pumps so hard that he pushes us up the bed. When my head hits the headboard, he lets go of my hands, presses his against the board, and continues to pound into me.

  Above me, his muscles ripple and sweat drips down his chest. His body is so beautiful moving in and out of me, and that’s my undoing.

  Bliss tears through me as my legs spasm and my mouth falls open, though no noise escapes me as I am submerged beneath waves of pleasure.

  “Oh . . . shit,” Alec says. “I’m coming.” He stills above me, his groan one of the most provocative things I’ve ever heard.

  A roar so delicious that it keeps my orgasm spasming, my body tingling and seeking more as his hips slowly move against mine.

  “Fuck, Luna,” he murmurs, pressing his face against my neck, his breath hot on my skin. “You just about killed me.”

  I chuckle. “Pretty sure it was the other way around.” I cradle his face and bring his lips to mine, letting them take over as we ride out the postorgasm bliss, our bodies connected, our breaths evening out.

  He lifts up slightly, his smile crooked and lazy. “You’ve ruined me, you realize that? Absolutely ruined me.”

  I nudge him onto his back and lay my head on his chest. “Can I be honest with you?”

  “Always.”

  I nibble on my bottom lip, nervous, but knowing it needs to be said. “You’re, uh . . . you’re starting to . . .” I roll my lip under my teeth. “I’m liking you a lot . . . a lot.”

  He smiles softly. “I’m liking you a lot too, Luna Moon.”

  “Scary-like? Or serious-like?”

  “Very serious-like,” he answers, his voice husky and beautifully lazy. If Farrah weren’t due back soon, I would stay like this all night.

  “Yeah?”

  He nods. “My feelings are strong, Luna, and getting stronger every second I’m with you.”

  My toes curl just from that little sentence, just from knowing that he’s in the same boat as me, and we’re not off course.

  “Me too.”

  “Good.” He rubs his hands over my back. “Should we go rinse off?”

  “Probably.” But I don’t move. Instead, I drag my finger over his chest. “Are you okay? You know, with your mom and everything? You were really upset on Saturday, and I don’t think that just goes away in a few days.”

  “It doesn’t.” He sighs, rubbing my back. “The pain is there, the realization that she’ll never be the mom I want her to be, but I also know there are other people in my life who care about me. Who cherish their time with me . . .”

  I lean in and press a kiss to his lips. “I do.”

  “I know.” He kisses my forehead. “And I’m grateful for you. I’m grateful for Naomi wanting to help me, and I’m grateful I’ve been able to see past all my baggage and realize how much I miss my brother.”

  “And you can lean on me—you don’t have to shut me out.”

  His fingers drag up my back, then over my shoulders and back down, sending chills along my skin and making me yearn for him again.

  “I know that, but I also don’t want to be another project you can fix.”

  “Hey!” I snap, insulted. “That’s not why—”

  “I didn’t mean that to hurt you; I meant it so you can understand that I don’t want to be something you make better. I want to be the man you deserve. The strong, put-together man. Not the crumbling guy who can’t seem to hold it together, who reverts to drinking his problems away.”

  “I don’t see you that way, Alec.”

  “Well, I see myself that way, and you deserve more than that man. It’s why I didn’t want you to come over on Sunday. You already saw me at my worst—you didn’t need the sequel.”

  I pause, letting his words sink in and trying to calm the irritation building inside me. I take a calming breath. “The point of being with someone is to see them at their worst. A relationship isn’t surface level: it’s deep and multifaceted, it has ups and downs, and we need to experience them together. You don’t have to be this macho man who’s always strong and protecting me, Alec. I like seeing your vulnerable side. It’s what made me fall—” I catch myself and swallow hard. “It’s what drew me to you in the first place. That flash of vulnerability showed me that there’s a real person under this handsome exterior. A person I want to know.”

  He lets out a heavy sigh, his hand dragging over his face. “Fuck, why do you always make sense?”

  I laugh and lean down to kiss his jaw. “Because even though you’re older, I’m wiser. Never forget that.”

  “I don’t think you would let me.” He sits up on the bed, dragging me with him so I’m sitting directly on his lap, his cock against my entrance.

  God, that feels good. I shift and groan at the pressure on my clit.

  “Hey, Horny Henrietta, slow down for a second.”

  “You’re the one with the erection.”

  “Because your wet pussy is gliding along it.” He chuckles and stills my hips. “We will get to that in a second. Shower sex—you, me, and some nice hot water.” That sounds divine. “Look at me, Luna.” I meet his eyes. “Feelings are new for me. I blocked them for so long that I’ve forgotten it’s okay to show them. I swore off relationships a long time ago, so take it easy on me while I navigate my way through this relationship. Because I’m falling—” He stops, and then winks.

  “You’re falling?” I ask, looping my arms around his neck.

  “Hard and fast, Luna Moon.”

  I press our noses together before kissing him. “Me too.”

  “I still don’t think she accidentally hit me,” Alec says, rubbing his arm as we peruse our menus at one of the nicest restaurants I think a boyfriend has ever taken me to. It’s not posh by any means, but it’s romantic, with dim lighting, earthy plants, and plush velvet seating. We took the subway down to Hell’s Kitchen for the dinner, but now that we’re here, it was well worth it—not that the travel was painful, but after what we just did, I felt pressed to stay home, in bed.

  “I’d like to say it was an accident, but I saw the look in my best friend’s eye—it was a warning hit.”

  “I thought I won Farrah over the last time I saw her.”

  “Oh, you did.” I nod, setting my menu down. “She just likes to keep you in check—that’s all.”

  He rubs his arm like a baby. “Can she do it verbally next time?”

  “It was not that hard.”

  “Easy for you to say. You weren’t the one who was punched.”

  “She has bird bones. There’s no way her fist did that much damage.” I roll my eyes.

  “Maybe I’m trying to show you more of my sensitive side so you’ll nurse me back to health after this. I heard tits have amazing healing powers. Can I suck on yours after this?”

  I try to hold back the laugh, but it’s impossible. “You’re really awful, you know that? Night and day with you.”

  “Keeps you on your toes.” He winks and reaches across the table, taking my hand in his. “Plus, I wouldn’t mind round three tonight.”

  “For an old man like you? Impressive.”

  He l
eans forward and points a finger at me, laughter in his eyes. “I am thirty-fucking-two—I’m in the prime of my virile life.”

  “Is that what the men’s magazines are telling you?” I smirk.

  “Look who’s the jokester now, and ripping at my age. Okay, I see you, Luna Rossi. I see you.”

  I roll my eyes. “What are you getting?”

  “Depends on what’s for dessert. If it’s a quick peck to the cheek and a pat to my ass to send me on my way, then the mac and cheese, because at least I can be bloated and happy.”

  “Charming.”

  “But,” he continues, “if I’m looking at naked time with my girl, then I’ll go with the Cobb salad so my muscles pop when I’m thrusting inside of her. So . . . what do you think I should get?”

  “The mac and cheese. Definitely the mac and cheese.”

  “Damn, Luna.” He laughs and reaches across the table, taking my hand just as our waitress walks up to our table.

  Ready to order, I turn. “Hello, I would like—”

  My words fade away as I make eye contact—not with our waitress, but with the one and only Mary DIY. Fear niggles at the back of my neck as I realize I’m sitting across from Alec, holding his hand, in a romantic restaurant.

  This doesn’t look like friends hanging out, or enemies making a truce. It looks like so much more.

  “Wow,” Mary says. “How nice to see you two when the cameras aren’t rolling.”

  Alec’s eyes narrow, and I’m pretty sure I know exactly what he’s thinking.

  How does she even know who we are, if she’s never actually introduced herself?

  But like the pleasant person I am, I say, “Mary, hi, how are you?”

  “Great. I saw you two walk in and thought, ‘Hey, I know them.’ I just had to come say hi.”

  “Just had to, huh?” Alec says, his voice clipped, making me break out in an instant sweat. I kick him under the table, but he doesn’t seem to care.

  “Why, of course.” Mary smiles, knuckles white on her clutch. “Thought I’d say congratulations.” She stares down at our hands for a brief second, and I tear my hand away, as if Alec has just burned it. I shoot him a quick look; by his furrowed brow, he’s connecting the dots as well. If she says something to Thad, we’re both screwed.

  “Congratulations on what?” I ask, my voice shaky.

  “On the deal with Marco, of course.”

  “Deal?” Alec asks from across the table.

  Crap, I never got a chance to tell him.

  “Oh, she didn’t tell you? Well, I guess she wouldn’t, since you’re competitors after all.” Mary smiles again, but there’s an agenda behind those veneers—I’m just trying to figure out what it is. “Marco is collaborating with Luna on his new modern bride line.”

  Alec blinks a few times, staring at me. I can see the question on his face . . . Why didn’t you tell me?

  “Isn’t that just a dream come true?” Mary continues, her sweet voice not matching her cold eyes. “A real Cinderella story.”

  “I would hardly call it a Cinderella story,” Alec retorts. “Luna isn’t going from rags to riches. She’s established herself in the industry, and you’d have recognized that if you didn’t keep your head buried in your own—”

  “Thank you, Mary,” I say, cutting Alec off before he can finish what I’m sure would have been a flavorful insult. “I’m very excited.”

  Still clutching her bag, Mary stares Alec down for a few beats before sticking her chin in the air and turning toward me.

  “Yes, well, you should be. I was speaking with Marco the other day about the line, and what he has is incredible. I’m still a little shocked he passed on my idea, but then again, he wanted to make it a charitable collaboration.”

  What. A. Bitch.

  I realized she was a self-involved diva after only a few episodes, but she’s reached a new low.

  Still, I’m professional, and I’m never one to burn bridges, so I plaster on a smile. “I consider myself very lucky.” Then, to get her out of here, I dismiss her. “See you Saturday, Mary.”

  “Mm-hmm.” She gives me a slow once-over and then turns to Alec. “See you . . . Saturday.”

  And as abruptly as she appeared, she retreats, meeting some man at the door and disappearing into the city night.

  “I can’t believe—”

  “That’s what you were celebrating on Sunday, wasn’t it?” Alec asks, sadness and anger colliding in his voice. “Hugging Cohen—that’s what it was, wasn’t it?” I nod. He leans back in his chair. “Why didn’t you tell me, Luna?”

  “You weren’t in a very good place—”

  “That’s bullshit. Just because it wasn’t the best moment of my life doesn’t mean you have to hide your accomplishments. You should have told me. That’s kind of big news, and if it was mine, I’d want to tell you no matter what.”

  “I wanted to, Alec. You were the first person I wanted to tell, but I . . . I don’t know, it just didn’t feel right. I planned on telling you tonight. Once we ordered, I was going to tell you everything.”

  His tongue presses against his teeth as he taps his fingers on the table.

  “Okay, so tell me, then.”

  “I’m not going to tell you when you’re angry.”

  “I’m not angry,” he snaps.

  “Uh, I beg to differ.”

  He shifts in his chair, looking out to the door. “I mean . . . why did you just let her walk all over you? She was being a bitch on purpose because you clearly beat her out for whatever this collaboration is. And you didn’t stick up for yourself.”

  “Because what’s the point, Alec? It’s not like anything I would have said was going to change her—it just would have pissed her off, and if you didn’t notice, she saw we were holding hands. She doesn’t seem like the kind of person who’s just going to let that go, especially if I provoke her. It was best that I let her insult roll off me. The last thing we need is her telling Diane about us. I prefer Mary ignoring my very existence.”

  He licks his lips, clearly not convinced. Sighing, I stand from my chair and round the table, where I sit on his lap. His arm automatically wraps around me.

  I sift my fingers through his dark hair. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I was trying to be sensitive. I’ll make sure to never consider your feelings again.” He snorts, and I can feel him relax beneath me.

  “I just want to be the guy you celebrate with.”

  “I want that too,” I say, leaning in and pressing a kiss on his mouth, not even caring that we’re in a full restaurant. “Trust me, you were the first person I wanted to run to, but given the circumstances, I held back. Don’t worry, next time something big happens and you’re going through something emotional, I’ll be sure to kick you in the balls and tell you my amazing news.”

  “That’s all I ask.” He smiles, and I’m relieved that he’s okay, that we’re okay.

  “Did we just have our first fight?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. “More of a quarrel.”

  “Oh . . . so then no makeup sex.”

  His brows shoot up to his hairline. “Actually, that was a fight. Huge fight. Giant. I’m . . . wow, I can’t believe we survived that. We should really have the makeup sex—all the makeup sex.”

  I roll my eyes and am going back to my chair just as the waitress appears at our table.

  She introduces herself, rattles off the specials, and then turns toward me. “I’ll take the salmon with asparagus and rice.” I hand her my menu.

  Alec hands her his menu as well and says, “I’ll take the Cobb salad.” He winks at me with such a goofy grin that I can’t hold back a chuckle.

  When she leaves, I pick up my water glass. “You’re truly hoping for a three-peat, aren’t you?”

  “A boy’s got to dream.”

  “Keep dreaming.”

  “I will.” He takes my hand. “Now tell me all about this collaboration . . .”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

&nbs
p; ALEC

  “What are you doing here?” Thad asks as he opens the door to his apartment. I hold back a wince at the fake powdered cheese caked in the corner of his mouth.

  And this man is about to be a father . . .

  “Came to see Naomi,” I say, striding past him and straight into his apartment, where Naomi’s sitting on the couch, a giant bowl of Doritos on her lap.

  “Hey, Alec, want some Doritos?”

  “Would love some, thank you.” I take a seat next to her, which, judging by the warm cushion, is where Thad was sitting. I pick up a cheesy chip and pop it in my mouth.

  “Uh . . . what the hell is going on here?” Thad asks, shutting the door and moving in front of us, blocking the TV, which is playing reruns of The Big Bang Theory.

  “We’re trying to eat chips and listen to Sheldon be a little bitch,” I say, motioning to the screen behind him. “You realize your torso isn’t a window, right?”

  Thad picks up the remote and turns the TV off before leaning over to his pregnant fiancée and grabbing the bowl of Doritos like a true savage.

  “Knock it off.” He motions between the two of us with a cheese-covered finger. “This is not a thing—you two have never been a thing—and I specifically told you on Sunday that I was writing him off . . . Naomi,” Thad says. “So what the hell is going on?”

  “He told you that?” I ask her.

  “He says a lot of things that I don’t pay attention to. Like that he was going to start waxing.” She leans into me. “Think he’s gotten rid of that jungle on his chest?”

  “I said I was doing it for the wedding night. I’m not about to let the hairs grow in partially and poke you in the eye while you’re playing with my nipples.”

  “Nipples?” I raise a brow at Naomi.

  “Loves nipple play, that one.” She shrugs and jabs a thumb at Thad, who looks like he’s about to blow a gasket.

  “Don’t do that. Don’t talk about me as if I’m not in the room.”

  “Didn’t think we were doing that,” I say. “She pointed at you, so we know you’re in the room.”

  Thad gasps, fists clenched at his side. “I am going to scream in about three seconds if you two don’t tell me what’s going on.”