Make It to the Altar

by Fiona Cole

  He dipped his finger in icing and swiped it across my cheek. I let out a squeal as he came at me with a growl to lick it off.

  After a few more kisses, I gazed up at him, a smile stretching my lips.

  “You were right.”

  “I usually am.”

  I rolled my eyes, but continued. “I don’t care what happens at this point. You’re my husband and I get to spend my life with you no matter what shit-show our wedding turns out to be. And that’s all that matters.”

  Epilogue

  Kevin

  Three months later

  My knuckles hitting the door echoed down the long corridor.

  The knob jiggled as the lock clicked and finally the door creaked open. Gwen peeked her head out.

  “What the hell are you doing here, Harding? You’re not supposed to see the bride before the wedding.”

  Her death glare didn’t deter me at all, and I gave one right back.

  “You are such a pain in the ass.” She rolled her eyes and pushed the door closed a little more, and I could hear mutters. She popped her head out again and squinted her eyes.

  “Maybe she doesn’t want to see you yet.”

  My eyebrow raised at that, knowing damn well Ana would never turn me away. “Let me see my wife, Gwen.”

  She finally opened the door and rolled her eyes. “Fine, but make it quick. The ceremony is about to start.” She grabbed her bouquet and exited the room.

  I stepped in and closed the door being sure to click the lock in case anyone else tried to come in. I wanted a moment alone with Ana. When I heard the rustling of fabric, I turned toward the windows off to the side, almost swallowing my tongue at the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.

  Her hair was piled in some intricate knot on her head, leaving her entire back fully exposed, as she stared in the mirror. Fuck, the things I wanted to do to that back. That explained why she wouldn’t let me leave any bite marks or bruises the past week. The bare skin was all the more striking with the way the long sleeves of lace covered the rest of her body.

  And as if the back wasn’t choking me up enough, the way the dress hugged her perfect ass before flowing out into a small lace train about brought me to my knees.

  My lungs squeezed almost painfully as I tried to catch my breath and blinked away the burning behind my eyes.

  “You’re beautiful,” I barely choked out, finally lifting my eyes to meet hers in the mirror.

  “It’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding.” She spoke the words softly, like she was struggling to breathe as much as I was.

  When a sheen fell over her eyes, I moved to my wife and turned her toward me, staring down into the most perfect blue eyes swimming in tears.

  “You’re already my wife, Anabelle. And if we can survive the first day of marriage like we did, I think we’ll be just fine.”

  “I love you, Kevin.”

  “I love you too.”

  I leaned down just enough to place a gentle kiss at her lips, tasting the love pouring off her. A tear had pooled and had almost fallen, but I reached my thumb out to wipe it away, bringing it to my mouth and sucking it off.

  “We don’t want to ruin your make-up.”

  She sniffed and took a deep breath, the motion pressing her breasts to my chest.

  “What are you doing here?”

  A groan rumbled from deep in my chest as I moved my hands behind her, spreading them along the expanse of her back, trying to touch as much skin as possible. I moved to press my lips to her ear, sucking the earing and lobe between my lips and tugging. “Give me your panties.”

  “What?” she asked, pulling back to look at me with raised eyebrows.

  “Give me. Your. Panties.”

  A small laugh bubbled from between her painted lips. “Kevin, with the fit of this dress, I’m not sure I can bed over and take them off right now.”

  With a devious smirk, I fell to my knees. “Fine. I’ll take them off myself.” My hands moved beneath the material of her skirts and dragged up her stocking covered legs. “It’s more fun this way.” She gasped as I pressed my thumb to her inner thigh above her knee and rubbed all the way up to her core. “I’m going to make them nice and wet first, that way I have your delicious juices in reach through this ordeal.”

  I moved her panties aside and pushed two fingers inside my wife. Her hands fell to my shoulders and squeezed. I didn’t say anything, just let the sounds of her rustling skirts, her heavy breaths, and the sweet sound of her cunt sucking at my fingers speak for me. When I felt her begin to squeeze me, I pulled out and pushed her panties between the lips of her pussy and rubbed, soaking them through.

  Then I tugged them down her legs.

  “Are you kidding me?” she asked, breathlessly. “You’re not going to let me come.”

  “Not until tonight, sweet wife.” I stood and pocketed her panties. Leaning down I placed a chaste kiss to her lips. “But maybe if you’re good, I’ll get you off at the reception.”

  I’d almost made it to the door when she muttered, “Such a fucking sadist.”

  Turning, I just smiled, and her glare slowly shifted to a smile too.

  And it hit me, all at once. The gratitude for this woman almost swallowed me whole and I was back to choking out words. “Thank you.”

  “For what? My panties?”

  Shaking my head, I cleared my throat, trying to find the right words. The ones I couldn’t fully say in the ceremony. “For being my friend. For understanding me and helping me feel comfortable with my sexual needs. Thank you for loving me despite it. I’m not sure I would have survived high school without you.”

  Her chest shook with heavy breaths and she rushed to wipe away her tears before they fell. “You are perfect the way you are, Kevin. And I’m the luckiest woman alive to have found you.” She swallowed hard. “Now, go. I can’t hold back many more tears, and we need to make this official in front of everyone.”

  “All right, but don’t keep me waiting. I want to get to that reception as soon as possible.”

  “You want to? I’m the one who has wetness soaking between my thighs.”

  “As soon as this is over, I’m finding the nearest space to fuck you.”

  “I hope so.”

  I blew a kiss and left, rushing to get upstairs and get it started. Because after years of challenges and love and friendship, I was about to finally make her mine in front of everyone. Which was all I ever wanted.

  The End

  Continue on for a bonus short story that was first seen in the KU Korner Reader Group, Bedtime Stories.

  Earn It

  Part One

  “Miss Belle.” His deep, irritated voice called me from his office. I stopped outside his door and peered in. “Please come in and have a seat.”

  Swallowing hard, I looked side to side to see if anyone saw me enter and then walked in. My skater skirt rode up in the back when I sat down, and my bare thighs pressed to the cold wood of the chair.

  I waited for him to speak, but Professor Ryan just sat there staring at me with his intense brown eyes. He stared at me in class too. I couldn’t help but notice.

  As shameful as it was to admit, a part of me liked the attention. A quiet, shameful part.

  However, the way he stared now pushed the limits of my comfort. The way his eyes traveled up my legs, lingering at the spot between my thighs. Then stroked their way up to my chest, before finally settling on my face. It took everything I had not to dodge my eyes all around the room to avoid his stare.

  “I’d like to discuss the amount of missing assignments you currently have.”

  Shit.

  “I’m sorry, Professor Ryan. I’ve been working so hard to supplement my dancing scholarship with a job and then dance practice itself. I’m struggling to stay on top of everything.”

  “I would hate for you to fail statistics in your first year of college. So young, and you’d lose your scholarship along with your spot on the team.”

&nbs
p; The thought of losing out so soon, sent me into a panic. I needed to do something.

  Deciding to capitalize on his attention, I took a deep breath, pressing my chest out. I crossed my legs and didn’t tug my skirt down when it rode a little too high for decency. A spark of success ignited in me when his gaze dropped. I moved my hand to my thigh as I leaned forward and pressed my breasts together, letting the deep V of my grey T-shirt gape over my cleavage.

  “Professor Ryan, I definitely don’t want that. I can’t lose my scholarship. Dance is all I have.” I licked my lips and dragged my teeth across the bottom one, plumping it to attention. “Is there any way I could possibly get an extension on the work.”

  His gaze stroked along my thighs, as though he could push the hemline of my shirt higher. But then his eyes flicked to mine, hard and unyielding. Apparently, unimpressed with my sexual display.

  Immediately, shame settled around me that I’d stooped so low as to try and use my body to distract my professor and win favors in return for a glimpse of my bare skin.

  “That is an unacceptable option. Unfair to the rest of the class who worked hard to get their work turned in on time without any excuses.”

  My head dropped along with my heart, a blush rising in my cheeks. I was sure I was screwed now. There was no way I’d be able to bring up my grade.

  “Maybe,” he began, buoying my hope, “we can work out some extra credit. I don’t give extensions. If you want extra points, then you need to put in extra work. I don’t reward tardiness.”

  A smile crept across my face, stretching my cheeks. “Of course, Professor. Anything.”

  I wasn’t afraid of hard work.

  He stood from his desk and I craned my neck to hold his stare, he was so tall. I wanted him to know I was serious and not going to brush off his class.

  His nostrils flared on a deep inhale and his look dropped to my chest that was still slightly exposed. From his standing position, he had a better view of my white lace bra. I sat back in my seat and tugged up my shirt.

  Now that I had what I needed, there was no need to use my body. It was a dumb move anyhow.

  But when I looked up, he had a smirk on his lips, as though my late modesty was humorous to him.

  He shook his head and made to move around his desk and I never looked away, unsure of what he was doing. My heart hammered as he approached my chair, staring down at me. He seemed so much taller, more opposing, authoritative as he hovered beside the arm of my chair. I was scared to look away.

  Did he see the slight fear in my blue eyes?

  Did he like it?

  But he kept walking before I could figure it out. I refused to turn to see what he was doing behind me.

  The door creaked before clicking closed, and there was something about the snick that sounded final. Like the door represented my fate locking in place.

  “Wha—” My nerves choked off my voice and I had to try again. “What are you doing?”

  He walked past me, this time letting his fingers gently stroke past the strands of hair hanging beyond my shoulders. His touch was so soft, I could have almost imagined it. But my senses were hyper-aware and there was no missing the caress.

  He didn’t say anything as he rounded his desk again and sat in his chair.

  Excitement sparked in his eyes and his lips twitched as though he was holding back a smile. It did nothing to soothe me, instead making my heart beat harder in my chest, thumping in fear of what I’d gotten myself in to. I didn’t speak, not that I could past the lump in my throat. Just waited for him.

  “Miss Belle.” His tongue flicked along the elle of my name, dragging in out. “Show me you deserve to be here. Show me how much you love to dance and that you want to be here.”

  “Excuse me?” I asked, my words barely a whisper.

  He rolled his chair back from his desk, gesturing to the spot in front of him. I couldn’t help but notice the large bulge pressing against his dark slacks.

  “Dance for me. Right here.”

  Earn It

  Part Two

  I stood from the chair on trembling legs, and forced myself to walk around the desk, thankful I’d worn flats. My legs shook with so many nerves, that I feared I’d stumble at any moment.

  Did I want to do this? Could I stop? Could I afford to not do this?

  The questions raced around my mind, chasing each other and I halted them all with a simple reminder that it was just a dance. Sure, he was turned on. I could admit my body was attractive, and I was a good dancer. If a dance was all he wanted, then I’d earn my grade and keep my spot.

  I stood in front of his spread thighs and swayed my hips, imagining a slow beat to roll my body to. Closing my eyes, I imagined I was at a club with friends as I turned and shifted to the song in my head.

  However, all of that came to a screeching halt when I felt rough palms on the outside of my thighs. I gasped and shot my eyes open.

  Professor Ryan sat forward in his chair, his face mere inches from my skirt, his elbows resting on his thighs as he stroked my skin with his calloused fingers.

  “Professor.” I protested when his thumbs moved to my inner thigh and stroked higher and higher on each pass. I tried to move back, but his grip tightened to a bruising strength.

  “I’d offer to stop if you changed your mind.” He finally lifted his brown eyes to mine. “But that’s no longer an option.”

  My face burned, taking in what he meant.

  I no longer had a choice. He was taking this no matter what I said.

  The thoughts dropped through my stomach, settling low in an uncomfortable way. I refused to acknowledge what it did to me.

  “Tell me, Miss Belle. What will I find between your legs?”

  “What?”

  One hand shifted between the soft skin of my thighs. “Will your pussy be covered in lace that matches your bra? Will it be bare? Will it be wet?”

  “No.” It fell off my tongue, an immediate denial of the whole situation.

  He tsked at my response. “I don’t tolerate liars, Miss Belle.”

  I stared down at him, seeing my breasts quickly rise and fall on each breath.

  “Keep dancing.”

  Closing my eyes, I tried to focus on swaying my hips, tried to bring myself back to the place I’d imagined earlier. But his fingers tugging my panties aside, and stroking a finger between the lips of my pussy, halted all other senses than feeling where I was then.

  I hated myself, but I dropped forward and gripped his shoulder, supporting my shaking body.

  “Ahhh. Wet. Such a slut wanting her teacher to watch her dance. To finger her.” Two long fingers pushed past my opening, slipping in easily past all my wetness. “To fuck her.”

  “No,” I gasped, like it was the only word I could get past my lips. I wanted it to be true, but he just chuckled as he brought his thumb to my clit and I clenched around his thrusting fingers.

  “Mmm,” he moaned. “Listen to yourself. Listen to how wet you are around my fingers.” The sounds of his fingers slipping out of me became louder the harder and faster he finger-fucked me. “What would the other professors say if they saw you like this? Dripping cum all over my hand as I shove my fingers inside you.”

  I didn’t want it to be true, but I could feel the wetness slipping past his hand and getting onto my thighs. I could hear it on every thrust.

  “Are you going to come on my fingers, Miss Belle?” He leaned forward and bit at my breast over my shirt. “Better be quiet. Wouldn’t want anyone walking in to find you riding my hand.”

  “The door.” It came out as a gasping plea. I couldn’t have anyone find me like this, and I knew he hadn’t locked it.

  “That’s a risk we’ll have to take. Now take off your top.”

  He slowed his movements, using one hand to hold me steady so I could stand upright and tug my shirt off. Immediately, goose bumps broke out as the cool air blew across my exposed skin.

  “Good girl. Now pull those lacy white cup
s down and show me your tits.”

  I mindlessly followed his orders, feeling ultimate shame for not putting up any fight. I was too lost in the throb growing between my legs. Too lost in the way the deep timbre of his voice vibrated across my skin, expecting nothing but complete obedience.

  “Fuck yes,” he groaned. “Pinch your nipples. Make them hard for me so I can bite them and suck on them.”

  I gripped the tips and rolled them between my thumb and forefinger, unable to fight the groan slipping from my throat. I tugged harder to the point of pain, loving the way it spread from my breasts to my core, causing my muscles to squeeze tighter around him.

  He knocked my hand away and latched on to a rosy tip, biting down hard. I had to bring my other hand to my mouth to smother the cry that escaped my parted lips. I was going to come. Right there, on my professor’s hand, I was going to have a shameful orgasm.

  But then he stopped, pulling his fingers out of me, leaving me empty.

  “What? What?” I whispered, looking at him with frantic eyes, pulsing my vagina around nothing, desperate to finish.

  He laughed at my panic and a flush stole over my whole body in humiliation of almost pleading for him to finish me off.

  This was my professor.

  I was his student.

  He slowly peeled my panties down my thighs, holding my gaze the whole time. I dutifully stepped out of them, unsure of who I was anymore.

  “Get on the desk. Face first. Knees spread and ass up,” he ordered as he pocketed my panties. “Now.”

  His barked order, snapped me out of my shock and I turned to climb on his desk, leaning forward to press my forehead to the wood. He tapped the inside of my knees, urging me to spread them.

  I did until it hurt, pulling at the muscles of my groin. I could’ve only imagined what he saw.

  Everything. He saw everything. Every opening I had. How wet I was. How eager.