Bridezillas and Billionaires

by Alina Jacobs

  “This is me decompressing,” I said, tossing back my drink.

  “Just don’t hurt her or yourself,” Sebastian told me seriously.

  But how could Ivy be harmful? I felt the best when I was with her. Even if I had to suffer through wedding planning.

  Evan: Want to grab a drink?

  Ivy: I said professionalism.

  Evan: Ok fine, want to grab a professional drink and discuss professional business about the corgi issue?

  Ivy: Why can’t you just put your foot down and kill it?

  Evan: Because Imogen has been reserving corgi litters already. The pandemic has started. We need all hands on deck, Ivy!

  Ivy: I’m only meeting with you because this cannot get out of control. Drunk wedding guests with bumbling puppies? It would be a disaster.

  Ivy: We will only be discussing business not… the other stuff.

  Evan: Oh you mean how my mouth was on your clit and I gave you the best orgasm in your life?

  Ivy: Don’t kid yourself.

  Ivy was waiting in the bar when I arrived. Her curvy figure was perched on the stool, and all I wanted to do was run my hands down her and push my cock into her. Eating her out, listening to her come—it was all I could think about. At night, instead of stewing over how Camilla had betrayed me, I now obsessed about Ivy and the different ways I wanted to fuck her.

  I leaned over and pressed a kiss to her neck.

  “I said professional,” she told me.

  “I am professionally kissing you,” I murmured, my hand sliding up from her hip to caress her breast. “If I was unprofessionally kissing you, you’d be begging me to go down on you right here.”

  “The corgis?” Ivy said pointedly.

  “You know, I’m a little disappointed you aren’t falling off of your barstool with lust,” I said, leaning against the bar top.

  “I told you, I deal with a lot of good-looking and rich men,” she said tartly. “You’re hardly novel.”

  “I used to date a lot of supermodels—” I began. Ivy narrowed her eyes, and I grinned at her. “And I am so tired of them. You are a welcome difference. I find everything about you desirable.”

  The bartender interrupted Ivy before she could retort, and she ordered a sweet-sounding craft cocktail, while I ordered my usual Scotch.

  “Ready to give up on weddings yet?” I asked her. “We could run away together. They’re selling castles for cheap in Scotland.”

  Her eyes lit up. “I could turn that into an awesome wedding venue!”

  “No! No weddings. That wasn’t the point of my suggestion.”

  “Speaking of,” Ivy said, taking out her sparkly notebook.

  I groaned.

  “You called me here about the corgis,” she reminded me.

  “Actually, I called you here under false pretenses. Truly, my only intentions were to entice you into no-strings-attached sex.”

  Her eyes went wide and then narrowed. “I’m in business mode right now,” she said, flipping to a new page in her notebook.

  “And maybe if we resolve it quickly, you’ll give into the sexual heat I’m emitting?” I suggested, leaning into her.

  She tapped me on the nose with her pen. “Maybe. Depends on if I like your answers on the dogs.”

  “You won’t.” I grimaced. “Mika has reserved three litters of puppies. To be fair, corgis are so squat that it’s like four puppies a litter.”

  “And Imogen wants three hundred,” Ivy said, downing her drink.

  I signaled the bartender for another.

  “I’m not going out there and buying corgis,” I told her. “Imogen and my stepmother have Mika wrapped around their fingers. She’s so programmed to do whatever Imogen wants, under the guise of being a good sister, that she’s going to do her best to procure all those dogs. But don’t worry,” I told Ivy, sliding her new drink across the bar top to her. “I have a plan.”

  “You have a plan?” She raised an eyebrow and sipped her cocktail.

  “The best plan.”

  “Can I hear it?”

  “No, it’s a surprise. Just know I have it taken care of.”

  Ivy regarded me critically. “It doesn’t involve live animals, does it?”

  “Nope! So now that I’ve put your mind at ease, are you drunk, relaxed, and relieved enough to let me give you the most mind-blowing sex of your life?” I leaned over to press my mouth to hers, kissing her softly then harder, slipping my tongue into her mouth. She moaned slightly.

  Rebound sex, here I come!

  “We really shouldn’t,” she murmured.

  “It’s not like we’re about to have a relationship,” I told her. “I’m just here to offer no-strings-attached sex. It would be beneficial for both of us. I get over my failed engagement, and you have a devilishly handsome hookup that you can schedule in between rehearsal dinners, cake tastings, and yoga.”

  Her phone buzzed, and she grabbed it. Her face blanched. Then she grabbed her coat, shoved it on, and raced for the door.

  “Sorry, there’s something I have to deal with.”

  32

  Ivy

  Why was my mother calling me? I was barely able to deal with the situation with Evan, and now my mother was adding gasoline to the dumpster fire of my life.

  “Ivy,” she said, her voice raspy over the phone. She was only thirteen years older than me, but she sounded like she was twice my age.

  “Mom, how are you?”

  “Terrible,” she said dramatically. “I was evicted from my last house, and my lying boyfriend ran off with the money.” She started sobbing. “I’m homeless, Ivy!”

  “I literally can’t help you,” I said, rubbing the bridge of my nose to ease the oncoming headache. “I gave you that money so you could buy a house, not support your boyfriend.”

  “I couldn’t afford a house,” she complained. “All these bankers discriminate against teen moms.”

  “I gave you enough to buy a house in your area outright,” I reminded her.

  “Don’t get smart with me! I sacrificed everything to raise you. Everything. The least you could do is show some gratitude.”

  Her voice softened and adopted a wheedling tone. “Can’t you spare something for your mom? Just so I can rent a motel room.”

  I looked around desperately. I still hadn’t resolved my own housing issue.

  “Why don’t you see if there are some social services that could help you get back on your feet,” I suggested, shivering slightly in the cold.

  “I don’t want a handout,” my mother raged. “I want the daughter that I raised and sacrificed for to take care of me.”

  Tears pricked in my eyes. “I just am in a bad spot myself,” I said quietly.

  “I don’t believe you. Now, I’m trying to find a job, but I need you to help support me like I supported and sacrificed for you,” she barked. “Just let me come up there and live with you. Send me money for a bus ticket.”

  “Let me see what I can do,” I said weakly.

  I chewed on my lip after my mother hung up. I literally could not afford to keep subsidizing her, but then what was I going to do? She always made me feel so guilty! She could not come up here and live with me; that was not going to work.

  My phone rang again, and I fumbled to answer it, thinking it was my mom.

  “Ivy, you picked up!” Grace said. “We weren’t sure if you were getting your inner sex goddess on!”

  “My what?” I said, starting to walk back home.

  “Your calendar said you had a date with Evan,” Amy exclaimed in the background. It sounded like they were in a restaurant.

  “It was not a date; we were discussing a wedding,” I countered.

  “Uh-huh. And that meeting is over, I take it? So you can come eat pizza with us and give us the panty-dropping play-by-play.”

  “Grace!” Elsie chastised in the background. There was squabbling, and the phone cut off.

  After Sophie texted me the restaurant address, I decided, what
the hell, who cares about paying off their credit cards anyways, and took an Uber to the pizza place.

  As soon as the smell of tomato sauce, herb-infused olive oil, melted cheese, and homemade crust hit me, I felt myself relax. Food was my favorite form of self-care.

  Really? Better than sex with Evan?

  La la la can’t hear you!

  “Come!” Amy said, gesturing grandly. “Dine with us.”

  “Oh, I’m sure she’s already satiated,” Brea said then started giggling.

  “Oh no,” I groaned then went tomato-sauce red. “You didn’t!”

  Brea shook with laughter. “I didn’t see anything, promise! I went back to grab my pincushion that I forgot and saw you going into the back room together. I wasn’t sure, but you just confirmed it.”

  “Sex in a storage closet. That’s super hot, Ivy!” Grace said, pouring me a glass of wine.

  “Did you actually do the full deed?” Amy asked.

  “No, we barely did anything, and we won’t,” I said, angrily eating a slice of sausage pizza. I chewed and swallowed. “Evan does not want a relationship with ‘strings.’” I made air quote marks.

  “So he doesn’t want a relationship,” Sophie said, “he wants a fuck buddy. Sounds like a real catch.”

  “I mean,” Elsie said thoughtfully, peeling a piece off of a garlic knot soaked with butter and dusted with parmesan cheese, “maybe that’s actually for the best.”

  “I thought you were one of the main advocates of me not having anything to do with Evan,” I countered.

  “I still don’t think you should enter into a relationship with him. People would talk. But if it’s just a little stress relief, well, it’s not like he’s taking you to a company function and showing you off. It’s more of an affair in secret.”

  “It’s not an affair,” Amy countered. “No one’s cheating. Evan isn’t in a relationship, and he’s clearly not getting back together with Camilla. It’s just a hookup. It’s friends with benefits.”

  “You guys are friends?” Brea asked me.

  “No, of course not!” I retorted. “I don’t even like him. Besides, he hates weddings. We would never work out.”

  “Of course not!” Elsie said, putting another slice of pizza on my plate.

  “Maybe I should start thinking about dating?” I said, picking it up.

  “Evan?” Grace asked.

  “No, just generally. I’m getting up there in age.”

  “You? You’re not even thirty,” Elsie scoffed.

  “My mother had a fifteen-year-old by the time she was my age,” I countered.

  “And look where that got her.”

  “You’re still young; you should have wild sex that you can tell people about when you’re old and frail,” Grace insisted.

  “I don’t know if Evan’s even going to want wild sex. I rebuffed him earlier.”

  “Playing hard to get!” Amy fist-bumped me. “That drives guys crazy.”

  “He could have anyone he wants,” I said into my wine glass.

  “Yes, but he can’t have you easily, which is why he’s fixated on you. Once you guys do it a few times, Evan will lose interest,” Elsie said.

  But that was the problem, I thought. I wasn’t sure if I wanted him to lose interest in me.

  “You just have to let him know you have the hots for him,” Brea said confidently.

  “How many casual hookups have you had?” Elsie asked her. “I thought you lived with your parents.”

  “I do, but I read a lot of romance novels. Guys like women who are in tune with themselves sexually,” she told us. “You just need to send him a sexy picture of you pulling your panties to the side with a message like, ‘I’m wide open for you.’”

  We all gaped at sweet Brea, who was quickly embroidering a piece of lace and looked like a wholesome Victorian lady. She looked up at us blithely.

  “What kind of books have you been reading?” Grace finally asked.

  Sophie dug in Brea’s sewing bag for her tablet. “He Pays for Her Pleasure. Abducted by the Well-Endowed Billionaire.”

  “It’s a play on words,” Brea said, smiling.

  “Uh-huh.” I peeked at the covers and blushed. “Lord.”

  “You just have to get him excited,” Brea insisted. “He won’t be able to help himself.”

  “Ooh! Grace can take a boudoir picture!” Amy said around a slice of pizza.

  “I’m not doing a porno shoot for Ivy,” Grace said. “I will not sully my camera lens.”

  “It doesn’t have to be pornographic, just titillating,” Sophie said, taking out her phone. “Ivy, unbutton the top two buttons on your blouse.”

  “Here?” I squawked. “We’re in a restaurant!”

  “Yes. It’s going to look super casual, like you’re out with your friends.” Amy reached over and undid two buttons.

  “I feel like we’re all way too close,” I grumbled as she hiked up my boobs.

  “Just smoosh them together,” she said.

  Grace looked at me critically. “She should have a sexy cocktail with her.”

  “I have a better idea,” Elsie said, handing me a garlic knot from the platter. “Lick that, and Sophie will take the photo.”

  “No, I’ll take the photo,” Grace said with a long-suffering sigh. “If we’re doing this, it has to be good.”

  “Lick the garlic knot like you want to lick Evan’s balls.”

  “I don’t—”

  “Lick it! Lick it! Lick it!” my friends chanted.

  “I don’t understand,” I said, trying to simultaneously smoosh my boobs up and lick the garlic knot. It was more difficult than you would think.

  “Relax your face,” Grace ordered. “You look like you’re having a stroke.”

  I did my best porn-star face and licked the garlic knot.

  “Perfect!” Grace said, snickering. Elsie snagged the phone and wrote the message.

  I peered over her shoulder. “‘I like licking balls.’ What the hell? I can’t send Evan this!”

  “Do you want to get laid?” Elsie countered.

  “Like in theory?”

  “Like by Evan. Didn’t you say you saw him naked?”

  “Half naked. Well, I half saw him naked. It was through my bathroom door,” I explained.

  “I’ve been at your house. That bathroom door is basically see-through,” Amy told me. “You’re sending it. No risk, no reward. And this is going to be a big reward.”

  “Take photos for those of us who need to live vicariously through you!” Grace said, blowing me a kiss.

  Against my better judgment, I hit send on the photo then stuffed the garlic knot into my mouth and waited.

  And waited.

  “Well,” I said, cutting myself another slice of pizza so I didn’t cry. “That was a terrible idea.”

  33

  Ivy

  I tossed and turned all night. I kept thinking about Evan and about how it would feel to have all that muscle and sinew against me, his cock in me. Then my thoughts would take a nosedive when I remembered he had still not responded to my text. I checked my phone again then finally threw the covers off in the early morning.

  I still couldn’t figure out what had happened. Evan had been blatantly flirting with me, had gone down on me. How could he just not respond to my text? Did he think it was a weird picture? I looked at the picture again. It was definitely weird. Evan was probably used to sexy supermodel types with tasteful erotic photos, not someone who took a picture with her dinner.

  “What does it matter? You don’t even like him,” I chastised myself as I dressed. “He’s self-absorbed and obnoxious.”

  But it was embarrassing. And to make matters worse, I had to see him that afternoon for the catering taste testing. At least we wouldn’t be in his apartment this time and would be meeting in the shared kitchen space Elsie rented.

  Elsie: Uh, bad news…the power’s out at the shared kitchen space.

  Ivy: Imogen is going to go ball
istic if we cancel!!!

  Elsie: Don’t worry, we’ll have food. The stoves are gas. Just, we need another place to meet instead of here.

  Ivy: I’ll arrange something.

  Shoot. I had been hoping to have the buffer of being in a public space when I had to face Evan.

  “You don’t have to meet in his penthouse,” I reassured myself as I texted Mika.

  Mika, unfortunately, did not come to my rescue. As I read her message, I cursed our lack of an office space.

  Mika: Evan says we can meet at his condo.

  Ivy: We could come to yours or Imogen’s so you don’t have to travel.

  Mika: Errr if we have it at my place my family will never leave. I need an escape plan. Evan’s always good about kicking people out when he’s done with them.

  Of course he is, I thought angrily as I gathered my wedding-planning materials for the meeting and headed out the door.

  “How’s your boy toy?” Mrs. Russo asked as she came up the stairs.

  “I’m going to see him now,” I told her.

  She wolf whistled.

  “Not like that! For work.”

  “Don’t worry about being too loud when you have him over here next,” she told me conspiratorially. “I’ve finally sold my condo.”

  “You’re moving?”

  “To Harrogate! I’m going to be working at my friend Ida’s sex toy company, Bath and Body Twerks. You know, I’d been thinking about the idea, but then I was made an offer I couldn’t refuse and sold my condo! I found a great little cottage in Harrogate. There are lots of old working-class men there, you know. They have strong hands!” she said and winked.

  Thinking about Mrs. Russo’s leaving was enough to distract me as I took the train to Evan’s penthouse. The meeting was at three. Normally, I liked to arrive early, but on this occasion, I cursed my professionalism as I stood outside the door. It was fifteen minutes until three. Elsie had texted me that she was on her way. I was not going to spend that time existing in an awkward silence with Evan.