A Very Dirty Wedding(69)

I thumb my finger over her nipple. “Says the chick who was moaning so loud a minute ago we were sure to get caught.”

“Because you make me crazy,” she says. “I can’t trust myself with you.”

“So you want to stop?” Her nipple is hard under my finger, and I feel my cock begin to stir again. This girl is like taking a little blue pill. I’m constantly hard for her.

“We shouldn’t keep going,” she says.

“They’re not married yet.”

“They will be tomorrow.”

“So tomorrow we’ll stop,” I say, pinching her nipple between my fingers and watching her flinch. But she doesn’t smack my hand away. Instead, her pussy muscles tighten around me.

“Just like that?” she asks.

“Just like that,” I tell her. “You don’t want to fuck me, I won’t fuck you.”

“It’s that easy for you.”

Of course not, I want to say. As if I want to stop fucking her? This girl has me wrapped around the axle, thinking about her constantly. I can’t stop. But I don’t tell her that. I can’t tell her that. “It’s that easy.”

“Fine,” she says, her jaw clenching. But when I roll my palm across her other breast, she arches her back into my touch. “Then we’ll stop.”

“We should probably screw as much as possible today,” I whisper. “If we’re going to stop.”

“Yes,” she says. “We should.” She presses her hips toward mine, and I reach down, gripping her thigh.

“I’d hate for you be walking down the aisle tomorrow any way other than bow-legged,” I say.

“You’re such a prick,” she says, as my cock stiffens. But she’s smiling.





CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Katherine



Today’s the day.

D-day.

My father’s wedding to Ella.

Caulter was true to his word. He left me walking like a cowboy dismounted a horse after days of riding. The stylist doing my hair this morning asked if I was okay, and my face turned the shade of eggplant.

This wedding is the social event in this part of New Hampshire. It's a huge deal. Thank God our lake house wasn't big enough for it to be held in the backyard; my father's engagement party in the yard of my mother's favorite place was tacky as hell already.

I’d say that my mother would have turned over in her grave, but the truth is, she would honestly want my father to be happy. It’s just the kind of person she was.

Caulter and I are supposed to be on the way to the wedding, with the rest of the wedding party. It's being held at this bed and breakfast, this huge place that used to be a hotel in the 1800's. We're not with the rest of the wedding party, though -- I lied to Ella and told her that I needed Caulter’s help with a surprise for my father.

“Are you okay?” he asks, when the limo comes to a stop.

“I’ll just be a minute. Thank you for coming here with me.”

He nods. “I can go out with you, if you want.”

“No,” I tell him. “I won’t be long.” I take the flowers and walk across the grass, my heels sinking into the dirt. Ella is going to freak when she sees the way my stilettos are going to leave little clumps of dirt behind as I walk down the aisle, but I don't care. The hem of my dress drags in the grass, but I can’t quite bring myself to give that much of a shit about that either.

I set the flowers on my mother's grave, replacing the ones from a few days ago that are only just starting to wilt, and put the other ones on the stone a few feet away. It’s a kid’s grave, and no one brings flowers, which always makes me sad.

It seems weird, slightly inappropriate, to be doing this in a bridesmaid dress right before my father marries someone else. But I couldn’t quite bring myself to participate in this day without talking to her first. I swallow hard.

“I miss you,” I say. “I think you wouldn’t think Ella’s so bad, though. Caulter hates her, I think. Or, maybe not hates, exactly. I think he feels the same way about her that I do about dad. You wouldn’t like that, actually, the way I feel about dad.” I always come out here and talk to her, but I haven’t quite been able to bring myself to talk to her about Caulter.

“So the wedding is today. I’m on my way, with Caulter,” I say. “I hope you would be okay with it.” It sounds like I’m talking about the wedding, but it’s Caulter I really mean. This wedding has to be the end of what's been brewing between us; it would be terrible for my father's campaign, a media shitstorm if it came out. That's the last thing my father needs. "I love you, mom."

I feel somber on the walk back to the car, a weird sadness is settling over me. It’s like I’m letting go -- not letting go of my mother, but of Caulter.