Knocking Boots

by Willow Winters

  “Charlie,” she mewls, her hands flying to my shoulders and her nails digging into my skin as I piston my hips, taking her rough and hard. And raw.

  Fuck, she feels so good. I bury my head in the crook of her neck, feeling my hot breath against her heated skin. I don’t stop, I don’t let up my pace.

  I’m so fucking close though. My balls draw up, and my spine tingles. I hold my breath, needing her to come with me. A sweat breaks out along my skin as I pump my hips faster.

  I need her to get off with me. And just as I’m about to lose it, she ignites under me. A cry of pleasure leaves her lips and her nails scratch down my back.

  I thrust my hips in shallow pumps until I come, still deep inside of her. My release washes through me in waves. And I finally breathe, taking in her sweet scent as my dick pulses and I empty myself inside of her.

  I finally lift my head up to look at her. And that spark, that pull is even stronger.

  Her head lolls to the side as we both catch our breath.

  Swallowing thickly, I gently pull out of her. My heart races, and it won’t quit.

  Something happened. Something changed.

  But I ignore it as I climb down and reach for the paper towels under the bar. She doesn’t look me in the eyes as I wipe between her legs.

  All I want to know is if she felt it, too.

  Grace

  Everything’s crazy, but in the hushed, well-heeled way that only weddings can be. It’s the day of the wedding, and I’m right in the thick of it.

  The suite of rooms reserved for the bride to get ready in are packed with her bridal party and makeup artist and planner. It’s a production to say the least and I’m doing my part sitting in my spot, complete with a name tag and getting my makeup and hair finished by two aestheticians. One lady sweeps a bit of blush on my cheeks. The other lady puts a final pin in my hair, backing away to stare at me as she considers her work.

  Given that it’s summer the sun is still up and bright, shining through the large open windows even though it’s nearly 6 p.m. I’m the last one of the girls to be made up and the others are having pictures taken.

  “I think you’re finished,” the hairstylist announces behind me.

  I squirm in my seat. The two ladies wouldn’t let me look while they were doing my hair and makeup. They wanted to surprise me but promised I’d love it. I’m not used to being pampered like this. It’s nice though. Apart from all the nerves and rushed women and men coming in and out to update the bride, it’s been amazing.

  “Okay,” the hair stylist says. “I’m done.”

  “Me too,” the makeup artist says, setting her brushes to the side and backing away. “You can go look now.”

  I’m a bundle of nerves as I walk to the bathroom. When I peer in the mirror; a dewier, much more polished version of myself looks back at me. My hair is braided and pinned up. My makeup is a little more extravagant than I usually go with. My lashes… my goodness! I love them long like this. I wonder what Charlie will think.

  I run my fingers down the length of my dress, which is the ocean blue silk with triangular side cutouts I bought before I knew I’d be in the party. I twirl a bit feeling giddy, and smile at the way the floor-length gown moves.

  “Grace!” Ellie calls and snaps me out of my little fantasy. Today isn’t my day. It’s Ali’s. “In here!” I call out but she’s already in the doorway.

  “You look so pretty,” she comments with a smile that widens. I match it and tell her she looks gorgeous too.

  “Love your dress,” I add and with my comment she does a half swirl with her skirt.

  “It’s so funny how each of our dresses are different but they go together. These pictures are going to be A-ma-zing.” She emphasizes.

  I can only nod, not trusting myself to speak. Sleep evaded me last night, knowing that after today, Charlie and I are probably going to be done with. It’s just for fun. That’s all it ever was. The pictures are just a reminder that I lied to his sister and mother.

  I feel like a fraud taking part in this moment. As much as I feel bad for Ali, having some soon-to-be stranger in her photos, I feel more sickly knowing once tonight is done, the charade is over. I think Charlie would let it continue a while. But I can’t keep doing this, pretending like this is okay. It’s not just fun for me. Not anymore. I’m falling for him… hard. And I’m only going to end up hurt.

  “The bridesmaids are all meeting downstairs for pre-wedding toasts.”

  “Oh! Okay. Let me get my boots, and I’ll be right down. Don’t wait for me. I don’t want to hold anything up.” Where the hell did I leave those boots? The suite is littered with purses and makeup bags and all sorts of wedding paraphernalia.

  Elli gives me a quick, “be fast” heading out of the room with the other girls. I make sure to thank the makeup artist and hair stylist, then hunt for my boots which are our wedding gift from Ali.

  I check the shoe rack in the closet. They’re the only pair left. I’m careful sitting down on the bed not to mess my dress up so I can pull the boots on. The leather is fresh; the boots still brand new.

  Who’d have guessed that the shine on my boots would last longer than my relationship with Charlie? Without sleep and all of these people around me who I’ve lied to, my insecurities are on full blast.

  Anyone with eyes could’ve seen that coming, I tell myself. My throat feels tight as I stand up and hightail it downstairs. Exiting the elevator, I pick up my dress to keep it from dragging as I search for the girls, making my way to the hotel lobby. I pass the ballroom, where the reception will take place. It’s gorgeous. Mostly white and cream with pops of blue hydrangeas and blue glassware. Utterly magazine worthy. After checking a couple of empty rooms, I find the girls drinking from a silver flask in what seems to be a coat closet.

  “Hey!” Sam says, eyes twinkling. “We were just warming up.”

  “I see that,” I say, smiling. “Is it my turn?”

  Lindsay hands the flask to me, and I take a swig. I wince; it’s bourbon.

  “Wow. Strong,” I wheeze. Oh my goodness I was not prepared for that.

  I pass the flask on to Ali. She looks at it, considering, then shakes her head. “No more for me.” She passes the flask and then shakes out her hands. “The adrenaline is in full swing and I can barely feel the last two shots but I know they’ll hit me.”

  “You think the guys are drinking?” Ellie asks.

  “The groomsmen definitely are. I saw Chris sneaking a whole bottle of whiskey into their suite earlier,” Sam confirms with a nod and then another short swig.

  “I swear, Michael had better not be falling down drunk,” Ali frets, smoothing her hands over her dress.

  “Charlie won’t let him drink too much,” I console her without thinking. As if I know whether or not Charlie would stop his soon to be brother-in-law from drinking on his wedding. I’ve never even met Michael.

  I’m mostly assuaging Ali’s fears; I have no idea what Charlie will or won’t do.

  “Ladies?” the wedding planner asks, poking his head in. “The guests are all seated out on the terrace. They’re ready for you all to line up now.”

  “Oh God,” Ali says, gripping Lindsay’s hand. “Oh God.”

  Lindsay passes the flask to Sam, then gives Ali a mini pep talk, getting down on her knees in front of Ali.

  “You are ready,” she says in a hushed voice. “All you have to do is walk down that aisle, and Michael will be there waiting. You love each other and that’s all that matters. That’s it.”

  Ali nods at Lindsay, and I can feel the emotion rolling off of her. Her anxiety and nerves are contagious as I look into her eyes. “I’m really getting married,” she whispers and the girls nod. I don’t know why I’m all teary eyed. After a moment she whispers, “All right. Let’s go.”

  Charlie

  It’s too warm to be wearing this suit. Evening summer weddings are a thing down here. But it’s still too hot for suits. Looking forward to the moment the c
eremony is over, I pull at my collar a bit, loosening my tie just enough so I can breathe. This jacket is getting ditched the second I can take it off. Michael’s to my left, and he looks even worse off than I feel. He clenches and unclenches his hands, shaking them out and shifting his feet.

  Ma’s in the front row, and she’s already crying. She glances at each of us and then back down the aisle like she’s done for the last three minutes. It’s a few minutes past six thirty. It’s time for this thing to get started.

  Nearly everyone has eyes on the groom or the card in their hand that they’re using to fan themselves. But Michael doesn’t even seem to notice. His eyes are focused only on the double doors to the venue, waiting for my sister to walk out in her dress.

  I lean in and speak to him out of the side of my mouth, hands still clasped in front of me while we wait. “She’s always late; it’s not you.”

  He finally tears his eyes from the doors as Chris, one of his good friends and another groomsman, laughs behind me.

  “No, it’s definitely you,” Chris says, not even trying to stay quiet. A smile kicks my lips up as Michael wipes his hands off on his pants.

  He’s already back to looking at the doors, not a word in response. The poor guy. My sister’s really got him worked up.

  “She loves you.” I don’t know why the words slip out. He knows it. Everyone does. He and Ali were meant to be together.

  With a slight asymmetric smile, he relaxes a touch and looks back at me, the worry and nerves still there as he nods his head. “I love her too.” The crowd stirs at the sound of an acoustic guitar playing a soft song as the doors finally open.

  Here we go; I straighten my back and watch as the first bridesmaid walks out.

  My sweetheart. She’s breathtaking. The thin dress swishes as she walks down the aisle of pale blue and white petals. My heart thumps and then seems to stop before madly racing, refusing to stay where it’s supposed to be.

  Her steps are measured and her hands are wrapped around the bouquet of white roses, blue hydrangea and baby’s breath. I stare at her, my heart beating slower as she comes closer and everything else blurs around her. She’s not walking to me, and she’s not the bride, but just the sight of her makes my heart misbehave.

  She tucks a bit of hair behind her ear as she takes a quick peek at the guests. Her nerves can’t hide with her head slightly ducked, and it looks so damn good on her.

  She’s sweet like that. Real sweet.

  I can’t stop staring at her, willing her to look back at me.

  “You’re drooling,” Chris says, nudging me in the shoulder and I turn to look at him, my hand instinctively going to my mouth.

  The guys laugh, including Michael. Jackass. I turn back to her just as she finally makes it to us and catch her stare.

  She gives me a sweet, soft smile, complete with a deeper blush on her cheeks, and quickly looks away. My chest fills with warmth, but then she’s gone, standing on the other side of Michael and out of my view.

  The other bridesmaids file in and then the music changes as my sister appears in the double doors, cueing the crowd to stand and the music to change.

  I take the moment while everyone’s looking at the bride to peek behind Michael at Grace.

  The mask she was wearing is down, and in its place is a look I didn’t expect to see. Worry, anxiety. Her eyes though, those beautiful doe eyes are wide with something else.

  She must feel my eyes on her, because she turns her head to me and the mask goes right up. Her eyes are still glassy. She can’t hide that.

  “You okay?” I mouth the question to her.

  She nods back and gives me a tight smile. I don’t have time to ask her anything else. The wedding’s in full swing with the delicate version of the wedding march from the acoustic guitar.

  I stand straight and look forward, watching as my father gives Ali away and Michael steps forward. With both hands still clasped in front of me, I get another view of Grace and the sweet facade is back, but I can’t forget what I saw.

  A tear slips down her cheek and she wipes it quickly, playing it off as if it’s the wedding and emotional tears of joy.

  But I know better. She may say she’s okay. She may play it off.

  But I know Grace.

  And she’s not okay. All I can think is: what the hell did I do and how do I make this right? Right fucking now.

  Grace

  The bar is the best place to be at wedding receptions, and I have no intention of leaving it if I can help it. It’s in the back of the ballroom, and the lights have been turned down. The music has gone from upbeat party music to sexy slow jams.

  I look down at my glass only to find it empty. Again.

  All right, maybe I’m a little tipsy. Whoever made the punch wasn’t screwing around.

  It’s been a busy day of meeting people left and right and having to play the part of Charlie’s girlfriend. There hasn’t been a moment when the two of us have been alone but for the past hour, I’ve been here, avoiding any contact and trying to convince myself that I’m not a bad person. I didn’t want to hurt anyone so it’s not wrong, right? It’s not bad of me to be in this wedding when I know I’m out of the picture probably hours from now. Wiping a tear from under my eyes before anyone can catch on, I sniffle and pull my shit together. That’s when I look up and see Charlie heading my way. Not just my way; he’s making a beeline for me.

  I take a moment to soak in his large frame, the way his muscles bunch under his white dress shirt as he moves and breathe in deep, calming myself. When he draws closer, I appreciate the clean line of his jaw, the intense green of his eyes.

  “Dance with me,” he doesn’t mince words, giving me a charming smile.

  I give him half a smile back. “You know I’ve got two left feet, right?” The last thing I want to do right now is dance.

  “Just come with me.” My heart clenches as he puts his hand out, and I can’t help but to slip my hand into his. How could I ever say no to him?

  He squeezes my hand, dragging me out to the dance floor. I hate myself for it, but a feeling of intense completion runs through me when his hand wraps around mine. A chill runs down my spine as he turns me, and takes me in his arms; my breath hitching as my boot heels click on the dance floor. My heart is beating faster now.

  We start to move to the slow, sultry rhythm. He surprises me, because he’s light on his feet. My arms around his neck feel hot, and I wonder if he notices. Or if it’s just me.

  “I didn’t know you could dance,” I say.

  “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

  He looks down at me, and I struggle not to drown in the moss green of his eyes.

  “Yeah?” I say, to distract myself.

  “Mmmhm,” he murmurs.

  I lean into him a little and I hate that I’m doing it, but it’s a memory I get to keep. The heat of his body, his hard chest and masculine smell. I take it all in, closing my eyes and letting out a small sigh.

  “Charlie?” I whisper against his chest.

  “Yeah?” I feel the rumble of his answer against my cheek.

  “Why are you still single?” I ask, our bodies still swaying to the gentle music. “I’ve seen the type of girls that hang on you. It doesn’t make any sense that you haven’t picked one of them to date by now.”

  He’s silent for a long time, long enough to make me open my eyes. I stare up at him, hoping I don’t look as enraptured as I feel.

  This right here, this foolish feeling, is why I’ve been avoiding him all night. I feel like I need to hold on to him, but I know I can’t.

  “Are you going to answer?” I ask.

  He smiles, but it’s forced. “Yeah. I just… it’s complicated, you know?”

  “So make it simple. Simple enough for me to understand, anyway. I had a few glasses of that punch.” I try to lighten up the conversation, but his expression doesn’t change.

  “Well… I have an ex. A girl named Susanne.”

&nb
sp; “Oh?” My heart thuds in my chest. I don’t want to think about him with someone else.

  “She was my high school sweetheart. When I was twenty, I gave her everything I had. I proposed to her with the biggest diamond I could get, which granted wasn’t very large. I was twenty, after all.”

  “Wait, you were married?” I say, pulling back.

  “No. Engaged,” he says, pulling me back into his arms. “And not engaged for long. About a month later, I walked in on her with someone else.”

  “You didn’t!” I freeze where we’re standing, my eyes large as the shock runs through me. Who the hell would cheat on him? She must’ve lost her damn mind.

  “I did.” He nods his head and moves me on the dance floor, willing me to keep dancing with him and I relent. I won’t deny him. My poor Charlie. Some dumb girl broke his heart and I hate her for it.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, squeezing him gently and trying to settle into his arms again. I can vaguely feel and hear everyone around us, but my thoughts are only on him.

  “Well, it worked out. The next year, I got a job at a bar. Saved up all my money, worked a ton. Bought Mac’s the second he tried to sell it.”

  “And the fiancée?”

  “Haven’t seen her since. She moved out of town not long after.”

  I lay my head against his chest for a minute, thinking about how he must’ve felt. No wonder he doesn’t want commitment. My voice cracks and I have to clear my throat to tell him, “You know, not all women are like that. Not every woman will break your heart.”

  He shrugs, his shirt moving gently against my nose as I stay pinned to his chest. “Sure.”

  “Sure isn’t really the kind of answer…” I stop my comment. I don’t know how to make this better but I want to.

  He looks down at me, perhaps sensing my earnestness. His eyes trail down to my lips, showing just what’s on his mind.

  I close my eyes and offer up my mouth. Charlie kisses me, tender at first, but then with more passion, making my heart race.

  I break off the kiss as I become more fully aware that we’re surrounded by other people. “Charlie…”