Bridezillas and Billionaires

by Alina Jacobs

  I peeked in and whistled.

  Imogen was unmoved. “I’m here with my assistant and my wedding planner. The help numbers more than my actual bridal party.”

  My stepmother patted her on the knee. “Look lively, Imogen. Let’s take a selfie for Insta!”

  I checked my watch. We still had six more hours of the bachelorette party to go. I wasn’t going to make it.

  “You didn’t have to come,” Ivy said, sliding next to me and handing me a glass of Scotch.

  “And leave you all alone with the stripper and that bag of toys?” I was satisfied when Ivy blushed.

  “Strippers?” Ivy exclaimed.

  I grinned at her. “Kidding! I’m not subjecting anyone else to Imogen.”

  We looked at my half sister. She was scrolling through her phone.

  “Oh my god. Kaitlyn, Brandy, and Ashley are out to dinner right now at that new Japanese place. They’re doing this on purpose to snub me. Evan,” she snapped, “you need to do something. We need to go to Morocco or Mexico. This is so embarrassing! Everyone’s going to see me have the lamest bachelorette party ever.”

  I draped an arm around Ivy. “I can send you wherever you want to go, Imogen, but I have to work tomorrow, and so do other people, so you’ll be going alone. It’s your choice.”

  Imogen started crying.

  “We can’t go to Morocco, Imogen,” Mika said, stroking her arm. “The wedding is in a few days. You need your rest.”

  “But I want to have a destination bachelorette,” she cried.

  “Evan, can’t you do something?” my stepmother insisted. “After all I did for you and your sister. You could at least try to give me this one happy memory.”

  “He doesn’t care!” Imogen raged. “None of you care about me!”

  Though my stepmother liked to guilt us and remind my sister and me that my father had wanted to send us to boarding school in Austria, in her defense, she had kept us in America, and it was only by her good graces that Mika and I weren’t playing Oliver Twist from ages six to eighteen.

  As much as I despised my father, my stepmother had at least done slightly more than the bare minimum.

  “Fine,” I said with a sigh. “Where would you like to go? It has to be in the continental U.S.”

  “We have to go to a party city, since it’s nighttime,” Tiffanie said in excitement. “Miami is perfect! We’ll go to a club and rent a yacht. Your friends will be so jealous! They’ll wish they had stayed in your bridal party!”

  As soon as we sat on one of my private planes, I immediately regretted giving in to Imogen. She’d insisted that we take the large custom 747 so that she could show it off on her social media feed. The plane did have a bed in it, and part of me was looking forward to fucking Ivy in it and perhaps testing out some of the products in her bag. However, Imogen monopolized all of Ivy’s time, going over the flowers, the ceremony, and her hair and makeup and complaining about her ex-bridesmaids.

  It was late evening when we finally landed and climbed into the limo to drive to the swanky condo building on the beach. Ivy yawned, and I snuggled her against me.

  “Look lively!” Tiffanie said, giggling loudly and clapping her hands at Ivy. “The clubs here stay open until five in the morning. We have so much partying to do!”

  “I really don’t know if I’m dressed for it.”

  “You have to come party for my bachelorette party, and you have to have a good time,” Imogen ordered.

  “Don’t worry,” I said to Ivy. “I asked the concierge to purchase some outfits. They should be waiting upstairs,” I told her as the limo pulled up at the condo tower. And I’m very excited to see her in them.

  The building manager greeted us and escorted us to the private elevator to the penthouse.

  “Welcome to Miami!” I announced, throwing open the doors.

  The whole penthouse was floor-to-ceiling glass that curved around the main, two-story space offering an impressive panoramic view over the city and out to the bay, where brightly lit yachts dotted the water.

  “This is amazing!” Ivy said, looking around in awe.

  Tiffanie, Imogen, and my stepmother raced through the penthouse giggling and snapping pictures.

  “Did you Airbnb this?” Ivy asked.

  “Did I…” I gaped at her. “No, I didn’t. I own this!”

  “Huh.”

  “And who was saying that billionaires and their money were ho-hum?” I teased, pulling Ivy to me and kissing her.

  “I’m just impressed you had the good sense not to have leopard print and red leather everywhere,” Ivy retorted.

  “Oh ye of little faith.”

  “It gives me slightly more hope for whatever monstrosities you had pulled for dresses.”

  “Just keep in mind,” I said as I guided her upstairs to the master bedroom, “we are in Miami, and people dress a certain way here.”

  “Oh no,” Ivy said when she saw the rack of dresses. “No way am I wearing one of those.”

  “It’s club wear, Ivy,” I said, setting down the bags.

  “What do you know about club wear?” Ivy demanded.

  “I club on occasion,” I said, taking off my suit jacket.

  Ivy snorted and pulled out one of the dresses. “It looks like it’s been chewed up by an animal.”

  “Just try it on,” I coaxed.

  “I don’t even had the right shapewear,” she said, wrinkling her nose.

  “I think you’re supposed to wear it with nothing under it,” I said.

  “Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Ivy said, waltzing to the bathroom.

  I stood in the master closet doorway that was next to the bathroom and removed my tie then my shirt. I was searching for something less conservative than my starched cotton shirt when Ivy came out of the bathroom. I went immediately hard and literally started salivating.

  “See,” I rumbled, “it’s way better with no bra.”

  The thin, shimmery fabric clung to her curves, giving me a hint of the voluptuous body underneath. Her tits were full and round under the fabric, the outline of her nipples peeking through.

  “Also,” I said, picking her up, wrapping her legs around me, and carrying her into the bedroom, “you’re not wearing that out of this bedroom.”

  Ivy giggled. “But it’s Miami!”

  I set her down and kissed her hard on the mouth. My hands went to the back of her dress, pulling at the thin straps, letting them slide down her body until she was in front of me, her full tits perky, the slit between her legs glistening ever so slightly. Once again, she was utterly hot as hell, and my cock was rock-hard just looking at her.

  Picking her up, I brought her to the bed, kissing her—on her lips, her cheeks, her neck, going down her body. I took my time in savoring those huge tits of hers, feeling them perk up under my fingers and my lips. I hooked my hands around her waist, making her fall back onto the bed. A beautiful, naked goddess lay right in front of me, begging me to thrust my cock into her.

  She was too perfect just to fuck her again and be done with it. This needed something special. I glanced around the room, seeing the frilly bachelorette bags.

  “What are you doing?” Ivy asked, sitting up, confused that I wasn't on top of her and dick deep inside her already.

  I went to the bags and dug around. I pawed through gaudy lingerie, edible panties, and various other knickknacks, but it wasn’t long until I found something useful. I picked it up, turned it on, and looked her way. It buzzed quietly.

  “Just what are you planning on doing with that, Evan?” Ivy asked, brushing the curls out of her face.

  “Throwing a curveball into fucking your brains out is all.”

  “Uh, that’s... well, that’s for girls who don’t have men like you in their lives.”

  “Open your mind,” I said, undoing my slacks, letting them fall around my feet, kicking off my shoes and then my boxer briefs. “I prefer to look at it as an enhancement to our fun.”

  �
�I don’t even know what you do with that thing.”

  It was a vibrator but not the typical dildo type. It looked more like a man’s beard trimmer than a sex toy. I had to look at it for a bit before I figured out just what I was supposed to do with it, but maybe my mind was a good deal dirtier than Ivy’s.

  She’d get there. I believed in her.

  I climbed onto the bed with her, her curiosity matching her arousal. My fingers trailed down her body toward her bare slit. I rubbed my fingers in the wetness, satisfied when her back arched. I teased her opening then stroked her and found her clit. I rubbed her lightly at first, making sure that she was good and ready for the worst of what both man and technology could throw at her pussy and clit.

  Ivy was slick and hot, bucking against my hand. Oh yes, she was definitely ready for it.

  I brought the toy, already on its lowest setting, down toward her clit. She gasped when it was close enough to have an effect. “Oh God, what... it’s like it’s rubbing me so damn fast. Oh!”

  Her worried moans were my joy.

  I wasn’t going to sit there and let the toy have all the fun though. I stroked myself and brought her toward my cock. I teased outside of her folds as I continued to run the toy over her bud. She was already shuddering, trying to cope with the intensity of the moment. It was about to get a whole lot more real.

  Still holding the toy steady, I rolled on a condom then pushed into her, feeling her shudder around me as her tight pussy took my huge cock. Ivy let out a scream just then, her pussy clamping down on my cock, her body convulsing, her back arching.

  “Poor Ivy,” I teased. “Already come, and we’ve barely begun!”

  That wasn’t going to stop her from coming again. And again. Even as she panted in a sweaty mess beneath me, I was going to keep going. I pulled her to the edge of the bed, lining her up as I started to fuck her on top of running the toy.

  She was a whimpering, pleading mess, but she seemed to finally be coping with the sensory overload. So I turned the toy up to the next setting. She went back to being a moaning mess. All was as it should be.

  Watching her as she twisted and turned beneath me… fuck, it was hot enough seeing her struggle with all of this, but feeling her subtly pull on me, shudder, and convulse beneath me? So fucking hot.

  Ivy cried out again, the temptation of orgasm too much for her to resist. She sank her nails into my forearms and bit her lip, but it was all futile in the call to orgasm. God, I wanted to come right along with her, but this toy? It had one more setting, and my curiosity had gotten the better of me.

  So I turned it up to maximum speed.

  Ivy’s mouth was permanently in an O shape as I held it steady there and as I kept fucking her. I honestly didn’t know how much effect my cock was having on her through all this, but seeing her in this much utter pleasure, it didn’t matter. Feeling her in this much utter pleasure, her pussy tight around my thick cock? That was pretty fucking nice too.

  I held the toy between us as I leaned in to kiss her one more time as I fucked her. I wanted to hold her as we both finally came, a final tribute to our lust for one another.

  Our love for one another.

  Just one more stroke, just one more thrust, all while that toy whirred over her clit and wonderfully abused it... and she tightened up so completely. It looked like every single muscle in her body was tense then released in a marvelous climax.

  It was finally enough for me. Feeling her quiver around my cock, I couldn’t hold back anymore. I erupted into her as I let out my own long, orgasmic groan of appreciation for her. She was amplifying my own orgasm, and I was happily submitting it all to her, her legs shuddering around me, aching from the release I had just experienced.

  After all of that, I had to collapse beside her and dropped the toy off of the side of the bed. I think it was still on, but damned if I cared one bit. I had the love of my life in my arms now, and she was absolutely satisfied with me, and I was the same with her. I kissed her one last time. It was a weak one, but it was a bit understandable this time around.

  Ivy reached up a hand and traced my brow line. I kissed her fingers.

  “Ivy, I don’t want to lose you.”

  She kissed me sloppily, eyes closed.

  “I don’t want to lose you either,” she slurred. “You’re the first man I ever loved.”

  “I think you’re the first woman I’ve ever truly loved,” I whispered. But she had dozed off and didn’t respond.

  My phone beeped noisily, and Ivy snapped out of her doze with a start.

  “Ugh, I can’t believe I’m supposed to go to a club after that!” Ivy slowly swung her legs off the bed then went over to flip through the dresses.

  I took one look at the text message and almost threw up.

  Camilla: We’re going to have a baby! It’s a little boy!

  46

  Ivy

  I did not want to go out clubbing on a weeknight with Imogen. Though I wasn’t exactly mad to be in Miami, especially with Evan. I could have gladly modelled dress after dress for him just to watch his eyes roll out of his head and let him fuck me with abandon.

  “How about this one?” I asked, coming out of the bathroom.

  Evan nodded. He seemed distracted.

  “Is it too sexy?” I asked. “You look like you’ve just been electrocuted.”

  Evan blinked and looked away.

  “Everything all right?” I asked. I was about to ask if I’d done something wrong but then caught myself. I was an adult. If Evan wanted to shut down right after sex, that was his problem. I hadn’t invested all that much in this relationship. It was supposed to be about sex after all.

  But Evan had promised something more.

  Yes, but I should have known that was never going to happen. I felt bitter for a brief moment. You were never going to have the fairy-tale ending. That does not happen to girls like you.

  My mom and the rest of Evan’s family were waiting in the living room when we returned. My mother wore a skin-tight leopard-print dress and impossibly high heels.

  “Might find myself a man!” she said with a giggle. Her hair was teased up a foot high, and she was wearing fake lashes, bright-red lipstick, and gobs of eye shadow.

  Mika looked uncomfortable in her short shorts and blouse.

  “She didn’t want to wear a dress,” Imogen complained.

  “You look cute, Mika,” I told her. “Evan’s going to have a hard time keeping the guys away from you.”

  “They like us curvy girls here!” my mom said, hugging Mika.

  “I should have brought a shawl,” Mika said as we went downstairs.

  “I should have brought one too.” The air was chilly when we walked the few paces to the limo, but it was nothing compared to Evan’s icy demeanor.

  Ivy: I think I screwed up.

  Grace: Did you finally punch Imogen in her entitled face?

  Sophie: Please don’t punch the bride!!!

  Ivy: I think I must have done something wrong with Evan.

  Elsie: Ditch the bridal party and come hang with us. We’re all piled on Grace’s bed watching The Witcher and doing shots every time Henry Cavill says Fuck.

  Ivy: As much as I do like to watch Henry Cavill grunt out one-syllable words, I am in Miami.

  Grace: OMG did Evan kidnap you. Help! Someone call the police!

  Ivy: I wish it was just Evan.

  Brea: Imogen the Entitled strikes again!

  “Stop texting!” Imogen snapped, snatching the phone from me and shoving it into my purse. “This is my bachelorette party. I want everyone to do what I want to do. You have to look like you’re having fun!”

  Evan was clearly not having fun though. Once we arrived at the club, Evan sat in the VIP booth, staring at the ceiling and drinking. Imogen dragged all the women to the dance floor.

  “It’s whatever,” she said. “He can watch our bags. That’s all he’s really good for—that and paying for things.” She and her mother giggled.


  “Dance!” Imogen ordered as salsa music blared. “Take a video of us, Tiffanie! Woo! We’re having fun, ladies!”

  After ineptly dancing to salsa music, during which I tripped over my own feet not once but twice, my mother dragged me off of the dance floor behind a column.

  “You’re not sealing the deal,” she said to me.

  “What deal?” I shouted over the music.

  She pointed up to Evan, who was pouring himself another drink and glaring at the bottle darkly.

  “If he wants to act like a toddler, what can I do about it?” I said defensively.

  “If you want a ring on your finger, you have to go cheer him up,” my mother said, glaring at me. “I should have had a son. Then he could have supported me. Unfortunately, I didn’t. Now I have to rely on you, so you need to snag a rich man. You can’t let Evan slip through your fingers.”

  “I’m not chasing after a man.” I crossed my arms.

  “Then you’re going to lose him to Camilla.”

  “He hates Camilla.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” my mother insisted. “Camilla is the mother of his unborn child. She might be able to convince him to come back.”

  The music faded out, leaving only a deep rushing noise in my ears. I blinked and swayed in my high heels, thinking I was going to faint.

  “She doesn’t—that’s not possible. He said…” I trailed off, forgetting what excuse I was going to give for Evan.

  “Men are liars,” my mother insisted. “I should know. That’s how I ended up ruining my life with you. I had to sacrifice—”

  “Yes, yes, I know,” I said, cutting her off. She glared at me, but I didn’t care.

  Evan is going to be a father? With Camilla’s baby?

  “He’s known for ages,” my mother said. “Camilla just texted Imogen about it. She said she and Evan already talked about it and are making a co-parenting plan, but they are trying to keep it under wraps until after the wedding.”

  “That fucking liar.”

  “This is a good thing,” my mother insisted, shaking me. “He doesn’t want her. He wants you, but you’re giving it away too easily. You need to play hard to get. Drive him so crazy that he forgets about Camilla. Sure, he’ll have to pay child support, but it will be a drop in the bucket compared to the real prize of being Mrs. Harrington. Think of Tom Brady and Gisele Bündchen. He has a son with that horse-faced girl, but everyone knows Gisele is his favorite. But do you think she was just giving away the milk for free? No!”