“I work in tech,” I said. “Very boring.” Both of those were true.
“Oh, we’re talking jobs,” Devon said. “I restore classic cars as a hobby. I’m in finance. Vice President of new ventures at Keebler Cook Walters.”
“Impressive,” I said. “Vice-president, and so young.”
“Nah,” Devon replied, forking some mashed potatoes in his mouth. Once he swallowed, he added, “They give away VPs there like tee shirts at a Triple-A game. If they gave me some equity, then you could be impressed.”
I patted his hand. “I’m impressed anyway.”
“You’re not eating,” he said. “Come on, you need your strength to get through this wedding. If Lisa smells weakness, she’ll pounce.”
“Ah, so you’re familiar with our Tiger-Bride,” I said with a chuckle.
“Known her since we were little.”
I leaned close, my breast pressing against his arm. “Then you, dear sir, should tell me some embarrassing secrets about Lisa.”
“Only if you eat,” Devon said. Pfft. I was too happy to eat. With his surfer looks and all-American smile, I’d been afraid Devon would be an asshole. Clearly, he wasn’t. Meeting him up in the Bride’s Chamber was going to be a pleasure.
Devon squeezed my knee as he leaned over and speared another bit of salmon with his fork. “Sure, help yourself,” I said breezily. “Oh.” Devon lifted the salmon to me.
“Eat,” Devon said, the fork hovering before my mouth. The salmon was easier to get off the fork than the steak, but I took just as long. Devon enjoyed it. “You’re adorable,” Devon said as I chewed happily. He fed me the rest of the salmon. It was divine.
“Your steak is getting cool,” I finally said. “Chow down. I need to visit the ladies room.”
“As you wish.”
I slipped on my heels and stepped carefully to the ladies room. My heart pitter-pattered while I took care of business. Brenda joined me in the bathroom and re-did my lipstick. “How’s it going?” Brenda asked.
Trying to keep my stoic game face steady—yeah, I lost that battle—I squealed, “It’s going soooo good!” I adjusted the top of my dress. “How do I look?”
Brenda appraised me thoughtfully, and then said, “Scrumptious. Go get him!” She kissed me on the forehead. I sailed out of the bathroom, despite the heels.
When I got back to the dais, Devon was gone. My heart dropped.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
All that remained of Devon was a half-eaten steak. I plopped down, kicked my heels back off, and carved a slice of NY strip for myself. Chewing angrily, I wondered how bad it was that I’d gotten jilted before dessert. Not good, I knew that much.
Gazing around the reception, Devon was nowhere to be seen. “Are you done with this, madam?” a waiter said. I couldn’t see Devon by either of the open bars. If he’d gone to the lavatory, he should have been back by now. Maybe he’d gone back to his cabin. I didn’t even know which cabin he was in. The waiter cleared his throat and repeated, “Are you done with this, madam?”
Oh, whoopsie. The madam the waiter was addressing was me. My bad. “Yes, I’m done,” I said. “Take it away, please.” The waiter whisked the dishes away. The main course was over.
Aha! Of course Devon was nowhere to be seen! He was waiting for me in the Bride’s Chamber. Or at least I hoped so. Maybe I didn’t. I didn’t know. My hands trembled. I wasn’t sure if it was from anticipation or nervousness—probably both.
Leaving my heels under the dais so I could move quicker and more stealthily, I slipped off into the nearest hallway, like a secret agent on a mission. Where the heck was the Bride’s Chamber? Upstairs, I knew that much. I walked barefoot down the hall and found a staircase. Up the carpeted steps I went, my heart racing madly.
The halls and stairs were empty. Everyone was still seated from dinner. I was alone, a wayward waif padding through huge building’s back ways. My stealthy stealing through the halls felt illicit, and exciting.
I popped into a ladies room to check my hair again—a little knocked about from dancing, but not too bad. I adjusted my dress, which tended to ride up. Sure, it showed more leg that way, but it didn’t leave my bosom on full display, so I adjusted it until my cleavage was sufficiently enticing. Yeah, who’s a hot mama now? I am, that’s who!
The soles of my feet stuck to the cool tile floor, and I felt like a two-bit whore, a dirty slag. Well, if anything, I was a whore—one who only gave blowjobs. Not sure where that fit in the whore hierarchy, but it had to be further up on the food chain. Status counts, after all.
The upstairs hall was surprisingly elegant with its thick carpet and side tables and settees along the walls. As I searched for the Bride’s Chamber, I realized that whore was the wrong analogy. The wedding barn was a bit like a rustic castle, with these upstairs areas being akin to the master of the house’s private area. I wasn’t a two-bit whore. I was more like a serving wench—a bare foot, tunic-clad wench—wending my way through the castle to find my master.
Downstairs, the dais would very conspicuously have two empty spots—Devon and me. Everyone might probably guess I had gone off to blow Devon. So what? Fuck them all. I had to do this. It wasn’t like I wanted to. I hurriedly looked about for the Chamber. What did they know about my dilemma?
I felt so naked, wearing only this slip of a dress and nothing more. It wasn’t fair. Devon's tux probably had a dozen pieces when you counted all the studs, cummerbund, and other accoutrements, and all I wore was the flimsy fabric of the bridesmaid dress. No shoes, no stockings, no lingerie—just the dress. I had one tog on, the bridesmaid dress, and I was heading to the Bride’s Chamber to blow a guy. To make matters worse, these hallways were long and had offshoots. I couldn’t find the Bride’s Chamber right away. But I kept at it, padding down the hall in my naked, filthy feet, looking for my guy to blow. I wondered if he was big, and the mere question made me salivate.
Truly, I was the Wedding Slut.
It didn’t matter. I’d do what I had to do in order to escape the bridesmaid’s revenge. What was the difference if I blew a few guys? I was getting out of a real legal bind—that is, not going to jail for rape. That was worth it. They say rapists are not treated very well in jail. I had to blow Devon, to protect myself.
Besides, I was still flying high on the G&T airline.
Finally, there was an oak door at the end of one hallway and it sported a brass plaque that said Bride’s Chamber. Eureka! My toes dug into the plush carpet as I made my way slowly down the hall. Hopefully the Chamber was carpeted too. That would be easier on my knees. My heart raced as my hand reached the doorknob. It didn’t turn. What the heck?
The door to the Bride’s Chamber was locked. Now what? I knocked gently, but there was no answer. Of course there was no answer. I’d left Lisa down on the dance floor. Who else would be in the Bride’s Chamber if not the bride? Darn it!
For the first time I admitted to myself I was really looking forward to going down on Devon. It wasn’t only in the sense that it would bring me closer to being let off the hook by the bridesmaids. Way to lie to yourself, Wedding Slut. I totally wanted his cock in my mouth.
“Yeep!” I squealed when a strong hand spun me about. I fell back against the oak door, and Devon pressed up against me. “Oh, it’s you,” I sighed. I drank in his sweet cologne as his gaze loomed down on me, those dreamy blue eyes measuring my soul. My body slid a bit to the side and I locked my bare ankle behind his calf for support.
“Surprised?” Devon asked.
“You startled me,” I said, my lungs pumping. Devon looked down hungrily at the effect my breathing had on my exposed bosom. I arched my back.
“You surprised me,” Devon said. He kissed my lips gently, but with fervor. I ran my foot up and down the back of his leg, pressing my hips to him. “I didn’t think you’d meet me up here. Or that you’d be so beautiful.”
“You think I’m beautiful?” I gushed. Devon’s hands caused sparks to fly wherever they landed. I w
as alive, totally alive. Devon knew what he was doing. He was getting me so aroused. Good. That would make going down on him that much easier.
“Yes,” Devon said.
“Oh,” I replied as his lips descended on my neck. The door was hard against my back, and Devon was hard against my front. I ran my hand through his hair and pressed his head against me. “The door is locked,” I whispered when he finally came up for air.
“Don’t worry,” Devon said. “I have a key.”
He unlocked the door and whisked me up in his arms. My, he was strong! I was suddenly feeling very oral, and I nibbled on his neck, just above his starched white collar. Mmm, mmm, he tasted good, and he had a strong, wide neck. I loved snuggling against him.
Inside the Bride’s Chamber, the divan was right in front of a bay window that looked out over the wedding gazebo and the ocean beyond. Devon sat down on the divan and settled me on his lap. I slid my fingers inside his tux shirt, running my palm along his hard chest. My, what a physique.
“I want you so badly,” Devon said, his arms hauling me in, and his fluttering kisses peppering my mouth. I could feel, via my thigh, that Devon was ready for me. After I sucked his cock, then I only had to do two more. Then I would be free again. But really, there was no need to rush.
Popping two of his shirt studs out, my hand journeyed south and felt the hard press of Devon’s defined abs against my palm. I bit my lip. He was so virile. I was so lucky. We necked on the divan overlooking the ocean. Devon’s hand slid up and down my bare, smooth thigh. The leg wax was worth it. I didn’t want to miss a scintilla of sensation. Yum! I hoped he ran his hands everywhere.
Devon was as smooth and effortless in the boudoir as he had been on the dance floor. His arm supported me, and all I had to do was perch there in my Devon-cradle and kiss him. Coincidentally, all I wanted to do was sit there in my Devon-cradle and kiss him. I lost all sense of time. The wedding could have been over hours ago for all I noticed.
What was up with me? I was really digging this. Maybe Brenda was correct, and I was all estrogen-y. I had no idea what was in the Femnizol they gave me. It could have been all estrogen. Who knew? So, maybe I was estrogen-y, or maybe I was just bi. Whichever it was, it didn’t matter. As my palms explored the bare skin under his shirt, I realized I wanted Devon. I really fucking wanted him, like a major league lust puppy.
When his hand was on the side of my neck, and he leaned my head back, I wrapped an arm around him and pulled us as close together as could be. I couldn’t tell where his mouth ended and mine began. Heaven looked down on us with envy.
His tux jacked was driving me crazy. It was totally in the way. I twisted about and straddled Devon, freeing up both my hands. I slid his jacket back over his shoulders. “Get this out of my way,” I whispered. When it was halfway off, it pinned Devon’s elbows behind him a bit. “I like this,” I said. “Keep those hands back there. They are friggin dangerous.” Devon grinned at me, and kept his hands behind him.
Still straddling Devon, I hiked my dress up and settled down on Devon’s lap. I tenderly cradled his face between my palms and took charge of the kissing, pressing our chests together. Devon settled back on his hands and let me.
He was an oral delight. I slid my body up and down, so that my breasts rode his powerful chest, but I didn’t let that interfere with my kisses. Um, this was comfy. My palms stroked his chiseled face while my lips communed with his. I was compelled to touch Devon in every way I could. He was just so damn sexy.
Then I made the mistake of opening my eyes. It wasn’t a bad thing, what I saw—not necessarily. It was Devon’s gorgeous face. That could never be bad. But the look in his dark blue eyes—the hunger there—made my body shiver. Goodness, what had I done? I instantly became aware of how big and strong this man between my knees was, and how small and tiny and defenseless I was. Oh no! Had I given him the wrong idea? I belatedly realized that straddling Devon, and riding my breasts up and down his chest while I kissed him, was a lot like fucking him.
I was driving him wild. I didn’t mean to—I don’t think—but I was driving him wild. Me. Little old me.
I almost came, right there, just from the thought of me driving him wild.
Devon leaned forward and grabbed both my butt cheeks. He hauled me against him. Stop looking at him! Stop looking at him! You’re giving him the wrong idea! But I couldn’t. I couldn’t break away from his hungry blue eyes.
Only a thin layer of tuxedo pants, and maybe a pair of boxers, was keeping our privates apart. I could feel the heat of his cock against me. My cunt pressed wetly against the front of his trousers. His hand snaked up my back and gripped my dress zipper. This was not going the way I expected. Oh boy! I needed a detour, fast!
“Devon,” I said, “I want to suck your cock.” The words came out easily, without a hint of hesitation. I did, gosh darn it. I wanted to blow his fat boy. I wanted to kneel between his legs and worship his masculinity.
“Oh do you now?” Devon asked. He pulled down the rear zipper of my dress with aching slowness.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Setting you free,” he replied. He yanked the zipper all the way down, and my breasts spilled out. Oh, no. Would he hate them? His eyes drifted down to the three hundred dollar bills that had been tucked in my bodice.
“Mad money,” I whispered. I didn’t feel compelled to gaze into his dreamy blue eyes any longer. In fact, I couldn’t, because his mouth descended on my bosom. Oh, that didn’t suck—quite the opposite, actually. I ran my fingers over his hair. Devon definitely liked my breasts. His lips and tongue teased and flicked my nipples, and I discovered how marvelous that could feel. Oh, goodness, this was going down an oh-so-wrong and oh-so-right road.
“Devon, baby,” I gushed. “I need to suck your cock.” I had to stop him before we went too far in the wrong direction, but I didn’t want to stop him too soon.
My fingers were still running through his hair when Devon lifted his head up and gazed at me. His eyes looked even hungrier, and I let out a little gasp. My fingertips tingled. Devon eased my dress up over my head, and I didn’t resist. Like on the dance floor, I followed his lead. I’d follow him anywhere.
“Devon!!” I giggled. “Now I’m naked.” I buried my face into his shoulder of his tux and let out a muted squeal. His hands flitted up and down me. I felt so alive. I was naked in this virile man’s clutches, and what better place was there to be?
“You have a beautiful body,” Devon said. I could hear my pulse pounding in my ears. My hands clawed at Devon’s shirt.
“But I’m naked!” I squealed again, my eyes squeezed shut. His hand ran along my bare butt, and I pounded on Devon’s chest with my tiny fist. “I don’t need to be naked to go down on you!” I arched my back, like a kitten responding to a petting.
“No, you don’t,” Devon replied.
I was having trouble breathing. “Let me suck your cock, Devon, please? I need to.”
“No.”
My eyes shot open. Devon spun me about and placed me on my back on the divan. Wow. Before I knew it, Devon was between my legs and on top of me. Goodness, he was strong, and huge!
“No, Devon, no.”
He pressed my wrists back up over my head and leaned in, kissing me. My legs were spread wide; Devon was between them; I was naked; he wore a tux; my hands were pinned back. Devon was strong and gorgeous and totally erect. It was so erotic, my entire body quivered with excitement.
“No?” Devon asked. “Why not?”
I looked at Devon. Behind the hungriness in his eyes there was an eagerness to hear my answer. Dammit! That only made him hotter to me.
“I’m afraid,” I said.
“Afraid of what?”
“I’m afraid I might like it too much.”
“You will,” Devon said with a devilish smile. “You’ll like it too much. But I won’t fuck you.” I wasn’t sure I liked that option, either. What was wrong with me? “I won’t fuck you,” Devon said
, “if you don’t want me to. I’ll only fuck you if you ask me to,” he said.
“You’re sweet,” I replied, trying to hide the shades of disappointment that I knew were there.
“No I’m not,” Devon said. “I’m going to make you beg me to fuck you.”
Now what did he mean by that?
Devon slid downwards, and his hands spread my thighs apart. His mouth settled on my pussy, and I thought I would die. How embarrassing! I was so wet down there. Devon could totally tell how excited I was. There were no secrets now. He lapped up my juices, moaning into me. My back arched, and my toes curled, digging into the divan.
I realized my wrists were no longer being held back over my head, but I left them there just the same. I liked the feeling of total surrender. My nipples were still hard from Devon’s attentions, and they were getting harder. His fingers ran over my tummy. His hands were rough, like a workingman’s hands, and I loved how they felt on my soft skin. My thighs began to throb.
“You taste amazing,” Devon said. Amazing, he said—I taste amazing!
“Eat your fill, big fella,” I replied. My fingers drew lazy circles around my nipples. Devon spread me open with his tongue. Ooh, it felt wonderful and weird all at once, to feel his wet tongue sliding inside me, tasting me, consuming me. This was my time now, and I enjoyed it.
“Oh,” I said when his finger slipped inside me. Well that was a new sensation. The urge to say no rose up in me. I didn’t want to seem like an easy lay. But I didn’t say no. I wriggled my hips while Devon violated me. I liked Devon violating me. I wanted him to violate me some more. His hands moved about like a maestro’s, and I moaned and whispered “yeah baby” when he hit the right spot.
And then he flicked my clit.
“YEEE!” I screamed, my hands clutching my breasts so hard that I probably bruised them. Zowie! I never expected a zinging rush like that. Yikes! He flicked my clit again. My hands shot out, grabbing for something, anything, but this divan wasn’t a bed. There weren’t any sheets. I heard heavy breathing, a sort of panting—was someone watching us? I listened carefully for a moment before I realized it was my breathing that I heard.
Revenge of the Bridesmaids Page 9