by Lexi Whitlow
The air in the apartment is crisp. We’ve got the windows open. It’s one of those nights in early Spring that’s just warm enough to do that, after a long, desolate winter. The bed is just a mattress on the floor. Skye has been sleeping on and off, after our marathon move-in day, but she wakes when I walk in the room.
She yawns and rolls over, her breasts exposed as the sheet slips down to her waist. “I thought you were setting up the T.V.”
“Done,” I say. “An hour ago.” I walk over to her, and I feel myself growing hard already. That’s a theme with this woman. I never thought I’d be able to focus on just one girl, but this one makes me want her, bad. And pretty much all the fucking time.
It might be that I haven’t fucked her yet. In fact, it could be just that. It could be that I’ve been thinking about her for the entire day.
“I’m ready,” she says, her voice still sleepy. “I want it to be tonight.”
I smile and sit down on the bed next to her, pulling off my shirt. Her hands immediately find my hand, and she pulls my fingers to her sex.
“Slow down,” I groan. But she’s already put my fingers against her wetness, her pussy slick and hot. I think of that vice-like grip around my cock, the feeling of her clenching against me as she comes, shaking like she does.
“Please,” she says. “Two weeks. I’ve been waiting two weeks. Two weeks too long. Please.”
I slip a finger inside of her, and I press my thumb to her clit, but only lightly. “Please what? Waiting for what, exactly? What do you want me to do?”
I withdraw my finger, pulling the slickness down to the tight entrance to her ass, resting my finger there, then circling it gently. I want that, too. Her sweet, tight little hole. She shudders. “What—what are you doing?”
My thumb goes back to her clit, trailing over it. My fingertips feel every shiver of her body. “Whatever I want. When you’re mine, you’re mine to do with as I please. For the rest of our time together.”
“I don’t think I—” I slip two fingers inside of her again. I bring her own wetness up around her clit and back down to her ass. I think of taking that, too. Her mouth, her pussy, her ass. All mine.
“So, little librarian. What do you want?” I keep my fingers moving in deft circles. Her legs spread open wider, and she arches her back as I bring her closer to the edge.
“I want you to fuck me—I’m ready. Please.” Her breath hitches in her throat. “Oh God, please. Please, tonight.”
“We get married tomorrow,” I say, unbuttoning my jeans, and pulling my waistband down. My cock springs free, and I groan. “I think we should wait until then. Make it more traditional.”
“No—please. Please, tonight.” She closes her eyes, bringing her hips upward to meet my hand, covering me with her wetness. She’s close. So close that I can feel her body start to tighten, begging for release.
I pull my hand away and bring it to my aching cock, kicking my jeans away from my body. I stroke myself with the slickness from Skye’s pussy. “You want to come on my cock,” I say.
I keep stroking myself. Skye pulls herself up on one elbow and hits my arm. “Come on,” she moans. “Don’t you want to fuck me?”
“What do you think?” I’m so hard now that there’s precum at the tip of my cock, a pearlescent bead. I think of how it would feel to release inside of Skye’s sweet, virgin pussy. Tight, fucking hot. God. I stop when I feel the shiver at the base of my spine, the tightening in my balls.
She’s looking at me with hunger in her eyes. Her hair falls over one eye, and she brushes it away. “I don’t know. You say you do—but we haven’t—we haven’t slept together yet.” Her cheeks color pink, and a flush creeps over her breasts. Gooseflesh rises on her skin. When she blinks, I think I might see tears. But it could be my mind playing tricks on me.
“I do. I want you,” I say. “I think about it every time I’m near you. Whenever I taste your skin. But I like the build up, librarian.”
I look at Skye. Her body is pale and luminescent in the moonlight that filters in through the window. Her breasts are round and heavy, nipples pink and stiff. She’s no longer shy about her body since I’ve taught her the things it can do. And fuck, I’m not even done showing her yet. I haven’t wanted a drink since I met her, and I haven’t even looked in the direction of another woman.
I move to Skye and push her down on the bed. She draws her breath in sharply and lets out a little moan. Her eyes widen, and I lower myself down on one elbow, kissing her hard and putting my hand to her sweet, delicate neck. When my fingers press down ever so slightly, she sighs, and she brings her legs around my waist, trying to pull me into her.
“Not yet,” I say. I keep my body positioned above hers, letting my hand wander over her breasts, cupping them, rolling the nipples until she groans in frustration. “But soon. Very soon.”
“When?” The word comes out as a whimper.
I slide my body down on top of hers and place my cock at her entrance. Instead of slipping it inside, I rest it against her folds, covering it in slickness, stroking myself as she moans and pushes her body up to meet mine. I bring myself to the edge again and stop, moving my fingers instead to Skye’s pussy, this time slipping three inside. She cries out, but I stop again before she comes.
Bringing my lips to her collarbone, I kiss her there. My tongue finds one nipple and circles it. I bite down gently, and I listen to that wanting sound that Skye makes, the sound that makes me know I can do whatever I want to her. Any time I want to.
“Tomorrow. After we’re married,” I say. I pull away from her body and stroke my cock, watching her, thinking of her coming for me. All the times she has, all the times we still have together—before she leaves for good. “I want you to walk around in that white dress, knowing that it’s your last day as a virgin. After you say, ‘I do,’ I’m going to take you wherever I can get you alone, lift up your dress, and fuck you until your legs are shaking.” I take her hand in mine and kiss it, and I place it against her slippery sex.
“Oh God,” she whispers, hips lifting in pleasure.
“After you come tonight, you’re going to shave your pussy for me. I want you completely bare, nothing underneath that dress. I want you to feel every step you take tomorrow. You’ll be so wet when I fuck you.”
“I can’t,” she whispers. “I’ve never shaved before.”
“You will tonight. For your wedding. Tonight, I want to watch you make yourself come, thinking about how I’m going to take your virginity. How it’s going to hurt to take my cock—” I start stroking myself again, closing my eyes for a split second to imagine it. “And then it’s going to feel so fucking good that you’ll be begging for it. Begging me to come inside of you.”
Skye’s breath catches in her chest again, and she slides her fingers inside of her pussy, fucking herself, her ass lifting in the air.
“You want me to come inside of you, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” she says, looking at me with those deep, dark eyes. Her pupils are dilated, her eyelids flickering up and down. “I want to feel you come—” She closes her eyes, and she lifts her fingers to her clit, bringing herself higher, closer.
“In your mouth. Your pussy.” I pause, stroking myself until I feel like I’m going to burst. I pull her into me and bite down gently on her ear lobe. “Your ass. All of it’s mine.”
Skye groans, her body tensing and releasing. “Fuck,” she moans. “Oh fuck.” Her eyes open. “Yes, yes—I want it all.” She cries out and comes for me, hard. Her body shakes, hips arching skyward.
Finally, I let go, my balls growing tight and releasing. I lose all control, unable to suppress the sudden urge to show her that I own that perfect, fuckable little body of hers. I come hard, on her pale body, covering her with my hot cum. On her pussy, between her legs. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen—and I’ve marked her. Showed her exactly who she is.
“All mine,” I say again. “Tomorrow. Whatever I decide to do.”
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Skye nods. Her lips purse together. It looks like she’s about to say something, but instead, she takes my hand and pulls me up. We go to the shower together, letting the hot water roll over our bodies.
Skye is the first woman I didn’t fuck on the first night I met her, all because of a hunch. I touch her body, let the soap bubbles roll over her supple curves, kiss her as the water streams over us.
If I was anyone else, this would be a beginning—the first night in my new apartment with my fiancée.
Instead, it feels like it could be an ending.
The future presses down on us like a ghost. There’s so much I want to tell her, but I keep my mouth closed. Instead, I use it for other things, tasting her, bringing her to the edge again and again beneath the hot waterfall of the shower.
And tomorrow, we have our very own, very fake, and according to my mother, very big—wedding.
Chapter Twelve
Skye
The church in Queens is big, old, and fully intimidating. Because everything happened so fast, I never stepped inside of it until the morning of the wedding.
“You’ll go down the aisle starting right here.” The woman, some aunt of Liam’s, gives me a bored look and points down the center aisle of the church. “And you’ve got how many bridesmaids?”
“Just one,” I say. “She’s back in the gathering hall in one of the rooms.” I shift uncomfortably. Even though Rhiannon put makeup on me in a tasteful, measured way, I still feel weird. I’m wearing one of Liam’s old t-shirts and his gym shorts, and my hair is pulled back into a bun with tendrils framing my face on either side. The hairspray Liam’s cadre of aunts used on me feels like it’s stuck on my skin as well as in my hair. The whole look is completely uncomfortable, and I keep wondering what Liam’s aunt thinks of me.
“That’s fine. Not everyone has as many brothers as Liam does.”
“How many exactly?” I clamp my mouth closed when I say this. I’m supposed to know everything about the man I’m marrying, right?
“How many what?” She raises an eyebrow.
“Brothers? I keep forgetting how many brothers Liam has.”
His aunt gives me a pained look. “Tell me honestly. Is this a shotgun wedding?”
I blush. “Oh, um. No, it’s not. I just… forgot what Liam said about his brothers.”
“Three. Damian, Finn, and Malachy.” The aunt sighs. I’ve already forgotten her name. She checks her watch. “You need to get going. The ceremony is going to start in an hour.”
“I didn’t realize it was that late.” My heart starts pounding hard, blood rushing in my ears.
The aunt ushers me back to the gathering hall, where Rhiannon waits for me in one room. Liam is somewhere else. With his brothers, his father.
I think of what he told me last night, and I’m suddenly terrified.
Liam’s aunt turns to me. “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” she says, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Back in my day, we didn’t get to try on the shoes before we bought them.” She gives me a wink. “But you know what you’re getting into. You’re living in the same apartment! Your wedding night won’t be a surprise like mine was. The size of these men in this family! My sister-in-law—she married Padraic, Liam’s uncle—and she ended up in the emergency room the day before she was supposed to go on her honeymoon. Couldn’t walk straight for a week.”
She looks at me knowingly, and I turn as pale as the white dress I’m supposed to be wearing. The one Liam told me to put on without panties underneath.
I still have my panties on right now, but I know without a shadow of a doubt that I’ll obey him—my soon to be husband.
I think about that poor woman, in the emergency room, some thirty years ago—maybe she had one of Liam’s uncles sitting next to her. I wonder if he was hanging his head in embarrassment—or worse, if he was proud.
“I, um. I ought to go get dressed.” I hurry off, avoiding the aunt’s stare. There’s a burning warmth between my legs when I think of Liam. The fear that it might hurt—that he could be too much—only makes my desire for him more intense.
“Good luck, honey! You’ll do fine!” The aunt’s voice follows me down the hall, where I find Rhiannon waiting for me outside of one of the choir dressing rooms, just beside the big hall that’s been done up with a dance floor and a stage.
I guess that Liam’s mom had no problem buying the idea that we were getting married after only knowing each other for a couple of weeks. In fact, I’d wager she was actually glad one of her sons was finally getting married, whether or not it was for real.
Maybe she hopes it is.
“Get in here!” Rhiannon pulls me in the room and straightaway starts stripping me out of my clothes. Before I can even respond, she has me strapped into the corset-like strapless bra I’m supposed to be wearing with my dress. I have to contort my body to even fit into it—but the result is splendid. I turn to a mirror that leans against one wall, and I see a different person when I turn to look at myself.
My breasts are prominently on display, and my waist looks tiny. My hips jut out just like they always have, but today they look even more beautiful. I see myself how Liam sees me. I touch the curve of my hip, appreciating it.
“Here, put these on, too.” Rhiannon puts a pair of high heels—higher than I’ve ever worn—into my hand. I step into them, and my red toenails peek through.
“I don’t know if I’ll be able to walk in these.”
She shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. You can take them off after you walk down the aisle.”
I wonder as I stand there if Liam will want me to keep them on while he’s fucking me, and a thrill runs through my body. Signing the wedding certificate, lying to every guest here, faking what I always thought was a holy sacrament—it might be worth it if I get to lose my virginity with Liam fucking me in my wedding dress.
Rhiannon interrupts my reverie and brings the dress over to me, helping me pull it over my head. I close my eyes while she zips the dress to the top, and my breath catches in my throat. The bodice is tight and restrictive, but the full skirt feels like velvet against my legs.
“Wow,” Rhiannon breathes. “You look incredible. I mean, I know this isn’t like, the real thing. But still, you pulled it off. Where’d you even find this dress?”
“It was vintage. Found it on Etsy. It was like thirty bucks. Good deal huh? I was going to look at the thrift store near the apartment, but I didn’t have time. We had to set up the apartment and get it ready for Brie.”
“The apartment? You mean the one you’ve lived in for three years—the one in Brooklyn? Or the new one, with the tattooed boy with the dreamy eyes?”
I blush. “The new one.”
Rhiannon sighs. “This all worries me a fucking lot, for your information. Like, FYI, you shouldn’t do any of this.” She hands me a lipstick—bright red to match my toenails. “But you will look super fabulous doing it. I hate you for roping me into this, but I truly can’t resist weddings. Fucking hell.” She sighs dramatically.
Outside the door, there’s a voice. “You ready, little librarian?”
Rhiannon rolls her eyes. “You can’t see her! It’s bad luck—even though everyone knows this is a damn fake-ass shenanigan!” She says it loudly enough that I’m sure Liam hears her through the door.
“Don’t say that too loud. There are certain people here today that are counting on it being fake as fuck. So, we need to make it seem real.”
“I know,” I say, walking up to the door. I put my hand against it, like I can feel him on the other side, waiting for me. Waiting to marry me. Take my virginity. Maybe break my heart. “It’s going to look real.”
“I’m not worried about you, Skye. It’s your friend in there. Tell her to keep it cool. Marta is here with the kid—and she’ll be taking notes while she’s in the pews, no doubt.”
I gulp. I don’t want to be the one who ruins this custody battle for him.
“I’ll keep extremely cool,” Rhiannon says. I
know she will.
“See you out there,” Liam says.
I don’t hear him walk away, and my hand is still pressed against the wooden door. “See you out there,” I repeat.
He walks away, and I’m left to do touchups on my makeup and put on the bright red lipstick. When I look in the mirror, I see a different person—one more confident and capable than the girl I knew only two weeks ago. Liam, for better or worse, has changed me. And surprisingly, I like what I see.
When Rhiannon walks out to the church, she squeezes me tight. “I’ll see you in five, babe.”
Before leaving the room, I shimmy out of my panties, shoving them in the bag I brought with me. I’m smooth, and I’m already wet for him, waiting. Wanting. The garter is the only thing I have on beneath my dress. Like Liam said, I feel every step. I anticipate every move, every touch of his skin against mine. I’ll change forever today, no matter what.
I wobble slightly on the heels as I walk out the door and down the hallway, passing through the empty halls to find my father, waiting for me. He hugs me awkwardly and gives me a kiss on the cheek.
“I’ll never understand why you decided to do things so quickly,” he whispers, as we walk to the foyer that leads to the aisle. My stomach is full of butterflies.
“We’re in love,” I say automatically, though I’m not sure if the words mean anything. “We knew it was meant to be. We don’t want to wait anymore.”
These all sound like things a bride would say, if I were a real bride.
And I want him to fuck me. Be his for a little while. Do what he tells me, make him want me every day while I have him.
My dad takes my hands in his. “You do look sensational, honey. But tell me again. Just assure me—you’re not pregnant, are you?”
“Not a chance,” I say. “There’s definitely no chance of that at all.” I smile, and my blood starts to buzz like it did when I used to get high with my friends in college. It could be the bra cutting off circulation to my brain, extreme anxiety, or a combination of the two, but I sort of feel like I’m tumbling forward. The music starts up, and just like that, my father is walking me down the aisle on my wedding day.