by Dee, Cara
I'm not trying to be insensitive by ending things with her on her sister's wedding day; it's just the opposite. Why go through an entire day where I'm introduced to her family as the boyfriend when it's over? Yet, after several tries to get her to listen to me, I didn’t get far. She shot me down each time, and then she left.
"Hey." I stick my hands into the pockets of my black dress pants. It's a warm July day, so I left my suit jacket in the car. "You look beautiful." As the maid of honor, she's wearing a deep green dress, a few inches longer than the four bridesmaids' dresses. Hers flares out slightly and ends at her calves; her hair is up in an elaborate do, and she's holding a small bouquet of white roses.
"Thanks," she mutters as I adjust my black tie. "I take it you can find your seat? You're in the second row."
I nod and take the hint. She's obviously still mad at me, but now that we're here, I'd rather not ruin the day more for her. "I'll see you inside." That said, I walk in, and I'm a stranger so far, which explains why I can walk down the aisle without anyone stopping me. Some smile and nod in greeting, but that’s it. I suppose a few wonder who I'm here with, and I can't help but think how easy it would be to crash a wedding, especially one this big. I recall Amanda telling me approximately three hundred people were attending.
By the time it's three o'clock, the pews have been filled with guests, and the bells ring before the traditional wedding march begins. The four bridesmaids and then Amanda walk down the aisle to take their places at the front. Brian, Amber's fiancé, is a man I think Amanda wishes I were more like. He wants the white picket fence, the dog, the minivan, and the 2.5 children. Amanda never shies away from talking about all the things Brian does for Amber.
The ceremony is over pretty quickly, and then we all pile into our cars and drive over to the hotel where the reception is. The wedding party will arrive separately in two limos, so I wait outside the hotel for Amanda to show up. In the meantime, a few guests approach me and ask if I'm the man Amanda has spoken so highly of. That makes me cringe inwardly; I had no idea Amanda had been talking about me to her extended family. Parents and siblings—I get that, but aunts and grandparents? I sigh to myself and struggle to keep the polite smile on my face.
More guests trickle in, but I remain outside, standing a little to the side with all the smokers.
"Mr. Ford?"
Shocked to hear that voice, my head snaps to the left so fast that it almost hurts. Fucking hell. It's Kayla. Not only is it Kayla, but she's dressed to the nines—as if she's a guest at a certain wedding. Her dress reminds me of the white one Marilyn Monroe wore, though this one is silky and dark blue. There's nothing of the Little Girl standing before me—aside from a pair of white ballet flats, I note. I don’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved, but she is still incredibly gorgeous. Her auburn hair is down, pigtails only a memory. The wispy curls tease me by resting on her chest. Meeting her gaze again, I see that she's equally shocked to see me here.
"Kayla," I say quietly, taking a step closer. I definitely don’t want people to hear us. "What are you doing here? Are you a guest? I didn’t see you at the church." Then again, I arrived early and I was sitting in the front. She could've gotten there later, and amongst hundreds of people… Never mind.
"Wait…" Her eyes widen like she's figured something out. "The Amanda you told me about last night—that’s my cousin? Amanda Stevens?" She looks at me in disbelief; meanwhile, I pinch the bridge of my nose and curse internally at this turn of events. They're related, for fuck's sake. "Oh, my God," she whispers shakily, "your girlfriend is my cousin. I can't believe this."
Neither can I, but when I see two limos pulling up to the curb, I know this isn't the time to dwell on that.
"We'll talk about this later, all right?" I look over Kayla's shoulder as the wedding party exits the cars.
"Hang on." She grasps my arm and gives me a pleading look. "You haven't spoken to her yet, have you?" My brows furrow. "You can't. Don’t—" she shakes her head quickly and purses her lips "—don’t break up with her."
I nearly choke on saliva. "Excuse me?"
She blows out a frustrated breath and looks behind her before facing me again. "She hates me. If you end things with her, and I'm the reason…" A dark, shaky chuckle escapes her. "I'm already the black sheep of the family." At my confused expression, she goes on. "Long story short: my mom and dad died when I was thirteen; Amanda and Amber's parents took me in. From the start, those two loathed me. I-I can't get into all that now, but let's just say I wasn’t the perfect little girl—I didn’t fit into their family." I arch a brow, finding the irony a bit entertaining, no matter how ill-timed it is. Perfect little girl. To me, that’s exactly what she is. "I only see them a couple times a year, and that’s mainly 'cause I get along just fine with a few of our cousins and aunts and uncles." She actually looks close to panic. "I didn’t even want to be here today, but Aunt Mary insisted." She's referring to Amanda's mother. "I'm lucky I got out of the rehearsal dinner, really." Now she's rambling like she did yesterday, something I find incredibly endearing. Though, it's time to cut her off. Amanda has already spotted us.
"Quiet, sweet girl," I urge her softly. "Amanda's coming over." And she doesn’t look happy.
Kayla stiffens but manages to plaster a smile on her face as that almost ex-girlfriend of mine reaches us.
"I see you've already met my Nick," Amanda drawls and slips her arm around my waist. Her other hand slides up my chest, which I can't say I appreciate. "Long time no see, Drifter." She smirks condescendingly, causing me to frown. I have never seen an ounce of maliciousness in her before today. "I'm surprised you made it."
Next to Amanda, Kayla suddenly appears to be tiny—so much shorter than she already is. This isn't the type of vulnerability I like. Kayla is honestly intimidated by her cousin.
"Hello, Amanda," she mumbles, wringing her hands awkwardly. "It was a beautiful wedding."
"I know," Amanda sighs. Then she faces me with a bright smile. "How about we go inside, handsome? I want to have a drink with you before we split up again." Right. We're not at the same table. She's seated with the wedding party, and I will be a couple tables away with the other bridesmaids' and groomsmen's spouses. "Oh, and I must introduce you to my parents. They're dying to meet you."
Before I can get a word in edgewise, she's already dragging me along. I do manage to send Kayla a pointed look that says this isn't over, and then I pull away from Amanda a little and follow her into what can only be described as a ballroom. It's straight out of an overblown fairy tale with billowy fabrics, chandeliers, and a pompous interior in gold, beige, and white. Round tables are scattered around the dance floor, the finest china and silverware practically sparkling on expensive-looking cloths.
"Why do you insist on this?" I grit out quietly as we walk across the floor. Straight ahead, I can see an older couple, and judging by the way Amanda looks at them, I'd say they're her parents. "You know exactly what I want to talk to you about."
"Stop it," she hisses. "Don’t make me look like a fool tonight." She glares at me, our pace slowing until we come to a complete stop in the middle of the dance floor. "My entire family is here, Nick. I don’t see them very often. Now my sister's married; she's successful, and—"
"You think by coming here alone…it would paint you as a failure?" I chuckle wryly. "You're unbelievable." I'm fucking shocked, truth be told. While I've noticed that Amanda is a competitive woman, this goes beyond that. I'm merely here so she can look good in front of her family. At the age of thirty-six, she evidently needs more than a successful business. She needs a man, too—me. "This is why you've pushed, isn't it? Why you've been so insistent that we move in together. More for you to tell your parents."
"Oh, please." She scoffs. "You're going too far. We love each oth-"
"Don’t finish that fucking sentence," I seethe.
It feels entirely wrong to speak about love when it comes to us. The past four months don’t just disappear; we've definitely shared
something good. She even made me feel better than I did before her. But I'm finally able to see that’s the extent of it. We've both been so into this for the wrong reasons; we've used each other. I can't deny what I really want, and Amanda…well, I actually don’t have a fucking clue. Maybe she's only after success—more milestones to tick off. Me, on the other hand? I want Kayla. At least…I want to try. I want to see if there's more.
"Introduce me as whatever you want," I tell her, shaking my head, "but once this night is over…" So are we.
"Don’t overreact," she beseeches and grasps my forearms. "We're good together, Nick."
At this point, I don’t think it matters what I say. Luckily—or unluckily, depending on how you look at it—we're interrupted. By her parents.
"Mom! Dad!" Amanda's bright smile is back, and she proceeds to introduce me as her boyfriend. In turn, Mr. and Mrs. Stevens say it's pleasure to meet me after hearing so many stories. I'd be freaked out about how animated Amanda gets when she speaks—how terrific of an actress she is—had I not been too disappointed in us both. Because I find it a bit disheartening how easy it is to let her go. Shouldn’t it be harder? Or does the possibility of having more—with Kayla—mean that much, when it hasn't even been twenty-four hours since we met? That puts things into a new perspective, and we, Amanda and me, obviously haven't been worth much as a couple.
It is what it is, though. Right now, all I can think of is finding Kayla and making sure she's all right. I feel protective of her already, and I'd hate for her to worry. Whatever animosity there is between her and Amanda…I want nothing to add to that, and I don’t want Kayla to believe I'd side with Amanda.
*
The dinner is still in full swing when I leave my seat and walk over to Table Nine across the room. It's where Kayla is sitting, and for the past half hour, she's looked positively miserable. I've tried to catch her gaze, but she hasn't looked my way even once.
Reaching her table, I dip down and murmur in her ear. "Come with me." I've startled her, and when she finally looks up, she appears nervous and unsure.
Wedding guests all around us are busy being cheery in their festive mood; no one turns their head as I take the lead. Yet, I can practically feel someone staring a hole in the back of my neck, and it's not Kayla. But I don’t look back.
"Where are we going?" Kayla asks behind me, following at my quick pace. "She's going to notice you're gone, Nicholas." That’s the first time I've heard her say my name. I like it. Correction: I love it. However, I want something else right now. "Are you gonna answer me?"
I smile and round a corner; she keeps up. "Some place private." I hear the breath she releases.
Doubting we can find privacy on the first floor, I head toward the elevators in the lobby. It's when I press the button that I realize how tightly wound I am. My back feels rigid, my shoulders are stiff, my neck is strained, my jaw is clenched, and my hands are balled into fists. Don’t get me started on my fucking mind. I'm all over the place, overwhelmed by thoughts that have been swimming in my head since yesterday.
The elevator to my right dings, followed by the doors sliding open, and I quickly usher Kayla inside.
Classical music plays in the car, though it does nothing to calm the storm raging in me.
Kayla looks up at me, apprehension clouding her features. I take a step toward her after pushing the button for the top floor. She bites down on her lip. I swallow hard. Another step. My eyes drink her in. She backs into a corner. I stalk her like she's my prey. Christ, I fucking want her.
"Nicholas?" she whispers, eyes wide.
I shake my head slowly. No. Not this time. There's another name I need right now.
She gulps as I reach her. "D-Daddy?" Her voice is so small, so vulnerable, so fucking sweet.
"That's the one," I murmur and dip down to nuzzle her soft cheek. While my left hand slides back to cup her ass, my right hand ghosts across her stomach, up her tits, over her chest, until I hold her jaw in a firm grip. "Fuck, you smell good, baby girl." I breathe her in, and her sweet scent works to calm me down, if only marginally. "I've been aching to touch you."
She whimpers and fists my shirt.
"Do you want Daddy to touch you?" I ask softly, nipping at her earlobe. "So much to get lost in." My voice has lowered to a whisper. "This ass," I hiss and palm her ass roughly.
She moans.
"Daddy wants to fuck you, little girl." For emphasis, I pull her closer so she can feel my cock against her stomach.
"But," she breathes out.
I shake my head just as the elevator comes to a stop. "No buts. You're mine now, Kayla." Taking a step back, I regard her face. "If that’s what you want."
"You know I do." Her chest heaves, lust evident in her eyes. "But what about…?"
"Don’t worry about it—I'm taking care of it." Grabbing her hand, I guide her out of the elevator, and then we walk briskly down the hall. Anybody could be leaving their rooms at any point, but I don’t give a flying fuck. There's a small nook between two rooms where an ice machine is, and that’s where I press Kayla up against a wall. There's no waiting. No hesitation. I crash my mouth to hers and swallow her gasp.
Tilting my head, I kiss her deeply as I reach down and grab onto the backs of her thighs. "Fuck, baby," I groan as she hitches both legs around my hips instinctively. In response, I grind my cock against her pussy.
She giggles breathlessly, a sound that makes me shudder in pleasure. I notice it in her movements, in her expression, and in her sounds; she's slipping into character, though that particular word rings wrong. It's not a damn character. It's who she is. And I'm…
"Daddy." That giggle will be the death of me. "There's something hard poking me in my tummy."
I freeze.
Breathing heavily, I stare into her eyes, my own eyes hooded and ready to devour, and it's like my mind resets.
"I want this," I whisper.
She smiles. "So do I."
I nod, thinking about the things we need to discuss before we take this any further. "Then, let's do it right."
She's confused, I can tell, but she won't be for long. I need her to know she can trust me, that I will take care of her properly, and that she can depend on me. I can't be that person right here. Not in a hotel corridor, and not with a wedding reception going on fifteen floors below.
Reluctantly, I lower her to her feet. "Come home with me," I request and kiss her softly. Amanda may have a key to my place, but she's occupied. Plus, I can always make sure the chain lock is in place. She won't be able to enter then, that’s for sure. And as soon as I've changed the locks completely, there won't be an issue. "Let me take care of you, Kayla."
Her smile is tender. "I want that. But—" that smile morphs into something salacious and mischievous "—I need to take care of you, too." Deft little fingers work my belt and pants. I'm once again frozen in place. "Pretty please, Daddy?" She bats her lashes and sinks to the floor, at the same time pushing down my pants and boxers.
Fuck me. I groan internally and scrub my hands over my face. "Right here? Now?" Trust me, public sex is a major turn-on, but a bit more is at stake here. We haven't established anything yet; everything is up in the air.
"I want it." Ah, the pout.
With a shake of my head, I chuckle and tap her jaw. "Fine. Open up." She does, and I grip my cock, smearing the bead of arousal over her upper lip. "Lick that off." And she does it slowly, my naughty little baby. Placing my left hand on the wall right behind her, I brace myself and swiftly shove my cock down her throat. She gags a few times, to which I murmur sweet nothings about how good it feels. In the end, she relaxes completely and swallows. "Just. Like. That." Oh, my fucking God. My free hand goes to the back of her head before I begin to thrust deeply in and out of her hot little mouth. She soaks me in saliva and makes cute yummy noises, and I discover that she's a suckler. Because when I slowly pull out, she suckles the head of my cock as if she's desperate for my come to reach her taste buds. "Greedy," I mo
an, letting my head loll back. My hips push forward, and she swallows repeatedly before I pull back again.
Threading my fingers through her silky hair, I control our movements and focus solely on my own pleasure. I savor, revel…feel how her tongue flicks, luscious tips tighten, throat constricts, and teeth graze. She's so eager to please, I note, a moan slipping out at that conclusion. Her posture also tells me she's giving me an honest chance; she's dived in head first. She trusts me. Had she not, her hands would be placed firmly on my thighs in case she'd need to push me away. But they're not there. Instead she uses those for my pleasure, too. One hand cups my balls, altering between caressing and massaging. The other slides up and down the backside of my thigh, nails scraping gently, teasingly, against my skin. That proves she's comfortable, as well. And it makes me shudder.
"You like to suck cock, don’t you?" I ask quietly, my chin almost dropping to my chest. My brows are furrowed in concentration; there's no movement, expression, or sound I want to miss. I grit out a moan when she bobs her head in an eager little nod. A whisper of a smile plays on her mouth, but Daddy's thick cock is in the way. "God…look at you." I move my hand from the back of her head to her face. As I give a particularly hard push into her mouth, my thumb ghosts over her wet bottom lip. She hollows out her cheeks and sucks me perfectly, and I trace the indentations with another finger. "Such a beautiful little cocksucker."
In the background, I hear the ding of an elevator arriving.
I don’t stop fucking Kayla's mouth.
She doesn’t stop sucking me.
"Good girl," I whisper down to her. As someone passes the nook we're in, I keep my gaze locked with Kayla's. It's an unbreakable bond. Eyes smoldering as my glistening cock keeps moving in and out of her. The gasp followed by the rapid clicking of heels we hear doesn’t faze us, either. We know it's not a wedding guest; fifteen floors take longer to search through than this. And we don’t give a shit about the rest. "I'll give you my come soon, baby." I keep whispering and caressing her face. My strokes slow down, yet I go deeper. The ridges of my erection look like shiny trails due to her saliva, and when her teeth graze over me, it feels too fucking good. Too fucking good, too fucking good.