Читать книгу With This Ring, I Thee Bed - Alison Tyler - Страница 12

This was supposed to be the happiest day of my life. It many ways it was. But I often wondered if I would never be satisfied, if I would always want what I could not have.

The mother of the bride, my sister—the maid of honor—and all eleven of my bridesmaids had finally left the small powder room to give me a moment of peace before the ceremony. The gentle rocking ocean waves and breezes outside the stylishly draped windows sounded like silence compared to the cacophony of a dozen women. I embraced the sound, burrowed under it as if it were down bedding, and allowed myself some refuge in the darkness behind my eyelids. I could feel the stress of the last few days ebb away with the tide.

It was really the stress of the last eight months. Planning a wedding was like leading a war, and I often felt like a general, my flagstaff held high, barking orders to the troops. “Those hydrangeas aren’t quite the right shade of pink. You need to pick new ones. That fondant isn’t right at all! I said the color of raspberry, not Pepto Bismol! I don’t care if you’re falling out of your dress, that’s what duct tape is for.”

And it was in many ways, but all I really wanted right this moment was to see him—my Jacob.

I hadn’t seen him in thirty-six hours and the ache was palpable. I could taste it on my tongue, like an unquenched thirst, an unfulfilled craving. I knew it was only thirty minutes until I would be walking up the aisle, but I wanted to be with him right this moment, to share his space and breathe his air. I felt as if I would suffocate without him.

The door clicked open without warning, but it didn’t startle me. I somehow knew it was him—my Jacob. He stepped up behind me and placed warm, familiar hands on my shoulders. Our eyes met in the mirror and he smiled a wide and goofy grin.

“You can’t be in here!” I chided. “You’re not supposed to see me before the ceremony. It’s bad luck.”

“Luck, schmuck.” He tugged on his collar, uncomfortably. I wasn’t used to seeing Jacob dressed in formal garb—white shirt, suit with no tie, charcoal gray, not black; since the wedding was at the beach, we’d wanted it to be more casual. The color darkened his eyes somehow—made them more gray than green, as they usually were. He looked devastatingly handsome. “Sixty percent of American marriages end in divorce. You’re going to be a statistic in T-minus twenty-three minutes.”

I frowned. “Don’t say that.”

Jacob squeezed my shoulders, his wry smile spreading. “Can’t help it. Jaded, I guess.”

“Well, I won’t be a statistic. I’m very loyal. Nothing to worry about.” I crossed my arms and pouted.

He laughed, reaching up to pinch my cheeks. “You know I love it when you pout! Plus those crossed arms are accentuating your voluptuous bosom.” He straightened up to his full height, peering down at the tightly wound corset of my dress.

I feigned modesty, placing my palms over what I knew was ample, revealing cleavage. I’d chosen my dress precisely for that feature.

“I hate that you’re seeing me when I’m not fully ready. I wanted you to see me later, on my father’s arm, walking down the aisle….”

“See you when everyone else sees you? That hardly seems fair. I’m special, aren’t I? More special than those people out there? I should get the first peek.” Jacob reached up and lifted the layers of taffeta making up my train. He quickly found the lace between my legs, running his fingers along the edges.

I gasped, pushing at his hands. “Hey! Don’t do that….”

He backed away, frowning. “I’m sorry. I thought you would want to …” His eyes changed again, from gray to black.

I reached for him, wrapped my arms around his waist and tucked my chin, pressing my forehead on his belly. “I didn’t mean to push you away. I’m just … It’s a big day. I want everything to be right. I’m nervous, excited.” I felt his soft lips on my hair. “I’m sorry. Yes, I want this to be perfect for you.” I leaned back and met his gaze. He bent down to kiss me, his mouth open and giving.

There was a fleeting thought about Jacob’s kisses messing up my makeup, but that was soon forgotten when he lifted me out of the vanity chair, hands secure under all the taffeta and lace, and carried me to the nearby couch.

He lifted my skirt and bunched the fabric around my waist. His fingers clutched at the flesh of my thighs, pressing my legs apart. Jacob tore at my undergarments, ripping my panties aside and exposing the wet, pink folds beneath. He leaned down and ran his tongue up and down my slit. I shuddered, clutching at his shoulders.

“Oh my … Jacob!” I murmured. “Please, harder, please …”

He acquiesced, cupping his lips around my sensitive bud and sucking. I came immediately, waves of pleasure pulsing from between my legs and out to my extremities.

I did not linger in this place of ecstasy, knowing we didn’t have much time. I pulled Jacob toward me, crushing his mouth to mine. His weight was on me, his hips grinding between my legs. I bucked against him, gasping for air. I reached for his waistband and released his hardness, guiding him to my waiting pussy. He thrust up into me, and I welcomed the fullness of him.

“Oh baby, you feel so good,” he murmured. He tilted my hips up and pulsed his cock deep into me and out again.

“Wait, wait,” I begged, weakly pushing against his chest. “I want to taste you.” I managed to sit up, and switched positions with Jacob, pushing him down onto the couch. I knelt before him, pulling his cock into my mouth. His eyes scrunched shut, and he pressed one cheek against the leather.

The sound started as a low whimper at the base of his throat. He mewled like a kitten. I could feel it building inside him. The pressure began at the bottom of his cock and flowed in gentle waves up to the tip.

The waves swelled his cock taut. I eased back on the pressure with my mouth, and I could feel him twitching up to the roof and down to my tongue. I smiled, reapplied the pressure and sucked him inside. He moaned.

I ran my lips slowly along the ridges, sank down until the tip rubbed the back of my throat. Building a steady rhythm, I rocked against him. His cries became urgent, his hands clenching as if he were reaching for some target just inches from his outstretched fingertips.

I felt connected to him like no one before. More than the physical, it was as if I was leading him up into some alternate plane of existence.

And suddenly, I lost him. It was as if he was the only one left in the world and I was lurking below, observing this massive writhing.

I continued to tug on his cock and the undulations swelled and peaked. The crest broke and he flooded my mouth again and again, the warm wetness flowing past my tongue and into my throat.

His trembling waned, replaced by a palpitation in his chest. Jacob was laughing, giggling beyond control, as if the rush of pleasure was bubbling out of him. I reached for his hands, knelt back and smiled as beatifically as possible.

“That was.” He laughed again. “Incredible, amazing, mind-blowing …”

“The best orgasm ever?”

“The best ten orgasms ever. I had no idea my body could do that. I had no idea your mouth could do that.” “I hope no one heard us,” I said.

“At this point, I don’t care. That was … amazing. Worth any embarrassment you or I would ever face.” He shuddered again, shaking his head as if to clear the last threads of tingling.

I smirked. “I don’t know about that.” The image of my mother’s displeasure passed across my mind’s eye and I shuddered, too.

“Wow, it’s sad, really,” he said, sighing. “It’ll never be the same again.”

I nodded. “Yes, it will be different. That’s life, isn’t it? Ever evolving.”

“I suppose.”

I stood up, attempting to straighten my mussed hair. I would have to do my best to recreate the makeup job that my sister had done an hour ago. Hopefully, she wouldn’t notice the difference.

Jacob tugged his pants back on, looking around the room for any leftover carnage from our lovemaking.

A beautiful, uninhibited chuckle suddenly escaped his lips. I looked over as he leaned down to the floor to pick up a swatch of white fabric—the tattered remnants of my lace panties.

“Oh my,” I said. “I guess I’ll have to go commando.” He laughed. “It’ll be our little secret.”

“Ready to go, sweetheart?” my father asked.

“Yes,” I said, hoping to still the trembling in my voice.

Dad squeezed my hand, placing it on his arm. He smiled, a reassuring smile that could only come from a proud father. I squeezed him back.

We turned to face them, the crowd of family and friends sitting in rows of rattan chairs, each wooden leg nestled into the sandy beach. They stood when the music started, a lilting symphony so familiar.

I could barely see past the layers of white veil covering my face, but it didn’t matter. I could see Jacob’s shape to the right of the altar, standing beside his best friend, Michael. Both Michael and Jacob looked genuinely happy, and that made me happy, too.

The ceremony went by in a daze. We said our written vows, the classic “I do’s,” the exchange of rings, and then the minister said, “If anyone knows of a reason why this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

I had imagined this moment many times. I had even discussed it with Jacob, discussed the horrifying possibility of someone speaking up at this point in the ceremony. The memory of those discussions did not help me; we never did come to any conclusions. The reality felt surreal, a scene from a daydream or nightmare; which one, I couldn’t decide.

I couldn’t help it. I looked up over my groom’s shoulder, at Jacob’s place as the best man. Jacob’s face was stone, his mouth a tight line. He looked back at me and I saw it, a gesture so minute, I was sure none of the one hundred forty-nine guests had seen it. I saw it because I was looking for it—the slight movement of his head shaking no.

I gasped, the air rushing through my nostrils so loudly it sounded like a last breath. I marveled at this silent conversation, the intricate exchange of glances. And the look that sealed my fate.

My groom followed my gaze, looked at Jacob and back to me again, the panic rising in Michael’s face. Jacob smiled at him—that goofy, devilish grin—and placed a reassuring hand on Michael’s shoulder. The crowd behind us laughed nervously, understanding the joke.

I laughed, too, hoping my giggles would help to conceal the true sadness of my tears.