The Wedding Party
Erotic fiction by Michele London
Ally tucked her dress around her legs and huddled into the suit jacket that hung from her shoulders, and watched the Pacific fog roll through the coastal pines. It was dark now, but the fairy lights and votive candles that made the wedding tent glow were casting a soft light on the passing clouds, and the effect was rather magical.
Music drifted over from where the dance floor was still lively with revelers, a jazzy number she didn’t recognize that made her toes tap. She heard the booming voice of the best man over the crowd and smiled. His toast had been the funniest one of the night, embarrassing the groom without incriminating him, and making the bride blush.
They were a good bunch, the groom and his friends, from what she could tell of them after the whirlwind of the wedding party, rowdy but good-hearted, and obviously devoted to their friend. It made her smile to watch the ways in which big strapping boys showed their affection for one another. Silly bastards.
The pine needles crunched behind her, and Ally turned her head just as Grant sat down beside her. He smelled of spicy cologne and wood smoke, and the breeze that was blowing in the fog had done a number on his shaggy brown hair. He offered her a sip from his flask, but she shook it away.
“Nice party,” he said, taking a drink himself.
“It is. Everything was beautiful.”
“Why aren’t you down there dancing?”
“Just taking a break. I love weather like this, I didn’t want to miss it.”
He looked up at the treetops with their crown of mist.
They lapsed into silence, watching the fog move. It was odd, seeing him again after so long, and now sitting next to him as if nothing had ever happened, and his friendship with her brother had been going along happily from that time to this. She didn’t like to think she was betraying a trust by being so friendly with Grant, but her brother’s argument with him had nothing to do with her, and she didn’t like to make things awkward by giving him the cold shoulder now. The boys could sort out their own issues; she was an impartial bystander and she wasn’t going to snub anybody.
That, she told herself, was the reason why a buzzing had taken up in the pit of her stomach since he’d sat down, and why she wasn’t sure what to say next. She was simply nervous of getting in the middle of their fight.
“Are you sure you don’t want a sip?” he asked, holding out the flask again. “It’s bourbon. It’ll keep the chill out.”
He flashed her an encouraging smile, and though Ally hated drinking hard alcohol straight she found herself taking the flask from his hand, and brushing her fingers against his warm skin as she did so.
“Oh fine, give it to me.”
She took a swig from the metal mouth before she could talk herself out of it. It burned down her throat and into her gut, and she coughed at the sudden strength of it. Grant chuckled.
“Careful. Don’t choke.”
“I told you I didn’t want any.”
“You’ve just got to learn how to swallow it right, Al.”
She raised her eyebrows at him, and he shoved her shoulder, laughing again.
“You’ve got a dirty mind, lady.”
“Comes from hanging around you boys for too long.”
A fresh gust of wind blew right through Ally’s jacket, cutting through the layer of warmth she had worked up around herself. She shivered.
“I’m going up to the cabin for a second,” she said. “I want to change into something a little warmer. This dress has done its job for the night; now I’m just cold.”
“You mind if I come up and use the bathroom up there? I’m tired of peeing in the dark.”
She shrugged. “Sure, if you want.”
Hopefully, he hadn’t seen the smile she’d hurried to pin down, or the flare of excitement that flushed her cheeks at the idea of him following her back to the cabin. She walked a few paces ahead of him up the hill, carefully fixing her gaze on the ground ahead of her without admitting a second thought for the sound of his steady progress behind her. Don’t be ridiculous, he’s just coming up to use the bathroom. Then he’ll leave again to go find the boys and I’ll change into jeans and that will be that.
The cabin was unlocked, as they all were; the wedding party had rented out every bungalow for the weekend. It was immediately warmer inside, and she flicked on a lamp to guide the way around the suitcases and shoe boxes and other discarded paraphernalia of the day’s earlier preparations.
“Oh.” She stopped, realizing a certain flaw in the plan. “Um, the bathroom is actually connected to the bedroom in here. So, I can just wait, and then you…”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll just wait in there until you’re decent. You should change if you’re cold.”
So they both went through to the bedroom, and Grant continued on into the closet-sized restroom and slid closed the door. Ally rummaged in her bags for a pair of jeans and a hoodie.
She trusted Grant to keep his word, and wait for her signal to come out of the bathroom again. Still, when she pulled her bridesmaid’s dress up and over her head, and stood in the middle of the room in nothing but her strapless bra and thong, she felt incredibly exposed. He couldn’t see her, she knew that, but her heart started to race regardless; when she turned her back to the door to hang her dress on its hanger, she had never felt so naked in her life. A guilty little surge of heat between her legs took her breath away for a moment, and she steadied her hand on her stomach and smiled at herself.
“Are you ready in there? I’m starting to get claustrophobic.”
Ally whipped around, her daydream broken, and realized a moment too soon the extent of the exchange that had just taken place. Before she could wrap her brain around forming new words, the bathroom door slid open and Grant came out.
“Oh. Sorry. I thought…I thought you said you were ready.”
“No I, um, I didn’t hear what you…”
“Wow,” he said. “You look great.”
“Um, thanks. I’ve been working out. You know, the wedding, and stuff.”
“Right. Right. Well I’ll just, ah, I’ll just let you finish getting changed.”
He started through the bedroom towards both her and the door. Ally grabbed her hands in front of her stomach, trying to work out whether she was embarrassed or not. She was leaning towards embarrassed, based on the fact that she was having difficulty meeting Grant’s eyes as he walked by. That wasn’t quite right though, there was something else in it, something that was making her skin hot and her breasts ache but that she knew couldn’t be right.
“Ally,” Grant said, coming to an abrupt stop next to her.
“Can I, can I just…”
He stared at her, and for a moment, she had the absurd feeling that he was going to start explaining himself for his feud with her brother. Then his hand slipped around her naked waist and pulled her into his kiss. He was strong and she felt it now as he held her into his chest, and his mouth pressed on hers, taking her lips with a sudden, insistent hunger. He tasted of bourbon and smoke and smelled like the fog, and Ally’s shocked resistance melted away as his mouth opened hers, his teeth on her lip.
She wrapped her hands around his shoulders and nudged her bare knee between his legs. His cock was already firm and straining through the soft fabric of his dress pants, and she rubbed her thigh against him until he grunted with false pain. He lowered his head to her chest, pulling her bra down with his teeth until her nipples sprang free, and then sucking one into his mouth with long, greedy pulls. His hands slid down her back and under the thin band of her panties, easing the scrap of fabric around her curves until it dropped to the floor.
He stepped them backwards toward the bed, kneeling on the mattress and lying Ally down without removing his mouth from her body. He held her hands above her head, though she hardly needed convincing, manhandling her breasts, squeezing and biting at the nipples until she was arching her back into his mouth and twisting her hips into his.
She was afraid he would draw it out, linger above the waist for overlong, in some attempt to be doting. Thankfully, he hadn’t the patience for that, either. His hand crept down between her thighs, fingers probing the soft skin and searing heat at the place where they met. She spread herself for him without being asked, and sighed into his neck when his thumb found her swollen center.
He was skilled, his fingers moving in sharp little circles until she was burning with her release.
"Grant," she said, "be in me, now."
He took his hand away for as long as was needed to free himself from his suit pants, and then he was back, rubbing the head of his cock against her clit hard enough to make her jump. She grabbed him by the shaft and steered him towards the right place. As his head slid past the plumped, aching walls of her opening Ally felt a rush of warmth fill her from her stomach to the top if her head. She let Grant position her knees for her as he set the rhythm for their pleasure, and clutched onto his neck to enjoy the ride.
He did not try to pace himself - his thrusts, once built up to speed, came hard and fast, slapping their bodies together in a frenzy of urgent need. His hand resumed its work, too, and in another moment Ally's climax was shuddering through her. She pulsed around his cock, drawing him further in with her orgasm.
He pushed into her as far as he could go, gripping her hips to steady himself as he reached his own peak.
"Um," she said, grasping for something that would make the situation less awkward as they now lay panting beside one another. "That was unexpected."
"I'm not. I'm not cold at all any more."
Michele London is an author, editor, and romance consultant with Scarlet Girl. She is a regular contributor to Scarlet’s Letter and the archive of articles at ScarletGirl.com. She writes dark fiction and erotic fantasy, and dips into real-life tales of sexy for the lovely ladies as a Scarlet Girl pleasure party consultant in the San Francisco Bay Area.
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