Bad Boy’s Bridesmaid(16)

Her voice lowered. “I bet you say that to all the virgins.”

“Give me a shot.”

“It’s not that simple, Nate.”

Nothing was simpler than what our bodies craved. “It’s just sex. You liked it. I was there.”

Mandy couldn’t look at me, like she was embarrassed to be the one woman who completely owned my pleasure.

“You know I’m not a girl who does…that.”

“I know you’re freaked out. Something is bothering you, baby, and I don’t think it’s all about the wedding. Let it go.”

“You have no idea what I’m going through.”

“Then tell me.”

“I can’t, or this becomes more than just sex.” She shook her head. “I’m not like you, Nate. I need stability and promises and more than just following instinct.”

“What about desire?”

I pulled her closer. She moved a hand to my chest, brushing over my heart. It was my luck that it fucking pounded just as she touched me. I was drunk on her without taking a sip.

“You’re twenty-three, baby. You’re supposed to be having fun. Getting laid by men who want nothing more than to fuck your brains out. You should be excited to escape your family and see the world and have no responsibilities to anyone but yourself.”

Mandy’s voice caught. “Is that what you want?”

“Doesn’t everyone?”

“I don’t know. No?”

“You only go around once, right?” I nuzzled her, but Mandy refused to look at me. “Why not have your fun before you’re saddled with all the bullshit that comes with those complicated relationships you want. House. Husband. Kids running everywhere. That’s so far in the future you shouldn’t even waste time imagining it. Right now you have complete control over your life—so enjoy it.”

“You really have no idea…” Mandy pushed away, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this now. I have to go.”

“What?”

Mandy didn’t wait. She grabbed her purse and apologized to the band. She bolted from the fellowship hall and escaped through the rear of the church. The door clanged shut. I flinched.

What the hell did I do wrong? I’d never had this much trouble getting a girl into bed.

And I wouldn’t have gone through the trouble if it wasn’t for her.

Son of a bitch. I resisted the urge to kick the chair. The musicians stood.

I faced them, trying to grin through the embarrassment of getting rejected in the middle of a waltz.

“Tell you what,” I said. “You got this gig if one of you can explain to me what the fuck I did wrong.”





Chapter Eight – Mandy




“You slept with the stripper?”

I stared in horror at my sister. Lindsey overturned her margarita goblet and slurped the last few droplets of the frozen concoction. Pretty sure it was just pink-tinted tequila at this point, and she had reached her limit about three drinks ago.

I tangled my hands in my hair. “But I only left you alone for ten minutes?”

Lindsey couldn’t speak without slurring, but she could still chastise me with a wagging finger.

“I didn’t sleep with him now. I wouldn’t fuck that curvy cock again! I gots my new man! Getting married!”

The bachelorette party whooped in excitement as Lindsey danced, stumbled, and nearly clocked herself off the bar in an attempt to showcase the ring for the fourteenth time that night.

I wasn’t as amused as the other girls—or drunk, obviously. They hollered at the stripper clad in a particularly shiny g-string and bow tie. Lindsey shouted the loudest.

“Curvy cock! Curvy cock!” My sister swiped for the stripper’s red sequined thong. “That boy don’t know if he’s going or coming, but Imma tell you…he’ll get there quick.”

Oh god. The stripper stopped dancing to cover his package.

Only Lindsey had the ability to revert a sexy man with a greased six-pack back to the studious kid I recognized as her class’s salutatorian.

“Christopher Curvy Cock! Slap his ass, Mandy! Make that dingle dangle!”

I was in no condition to dangle anyone. Lindsey ordered another drink. The bartender mercifully watered it down.

“Maybe you ought to stay quiet and let the nice man dance?” I smiled at the stripper as he protected the elastic on his g-string from the bridesmaids’ wandering hands.

“I haven’t seen that slanted shlong since prom.” Lindsey giggled to herself. “I got on my knees, and that love stick bent into a boomerang! It looped into his belly button!”

As far as I remembered, Lindsey went to prom with Bryce. It was the third drunken revelation I vowed to forget after tonight. I hid my face as the stripper greeted Lindsey with an awkward smile and asked her to use his stage name—Firechild.

Lindsey refused. “That cock still bent? Let’s see! I wanna see!”

Fortunately, the bar hosting us didn’t permit complete nudity.

Unfortunately, that didn’t stop my sister.

The music cranked louder, compliments of the bridal party. Drowning in her tenth margarita, Lindsey sloshed to her feet. She gave Christopher a lecherous grin before pitching the glass across the bar and awkwardly leaping at the professional erotic dancer.

I reached for her and missed. Lindsey dove headfirst into his tushy and…

He shouted. The girls cheered.

Christopher whirled around and covered his behind. “She bit me!”

God, I hoped strippers could earn worker’s comp. Was my sister up-to-date on her vaccinations? This wasn’t happening.

He stood, shocked, as Lindsey fumbled at his waist. She gripped his thong and tugged, ripping the material off. She fisted it over her head with a triumphant roar.

The stripper was, in fact, distinctly…curved. Awkwardly so. I tilted my head.

How did he even get it to—

“There it is!” Lindsey celebrated her victory by wearing the thong instead of her tiara and nearly puking on the bar. “I found that wavy wang!”

I peeled fifty bucks from my wallet and shoved it in the stripper’s hand.

“I’m so sorry about my sister. Please know that this bridal party respects penises of all shapes, sizes, colors, and religious expressions.”

He shook his head. I was so relieved he didn’t also wiggle below. “I—”

“Save yourself,” I said. “Run.”

He didn’t bother to grab his clothes. Christopher bolted bare-assed out of the party. The bridesmaids snapped pictures they were sure to regret later.

“Aw! Where’d that shlock go?” Lindsey slammed her drink on the bar. It spilled. “Lighten up, Mandy! Maybe you need a little dick in you, sloosen you up!”

That was the last thing I needed. “Maybe we ought to get a little coffee in you?”

“You’re not even drinking!”

“I’m driving us tonight, remember?”

Lindsey tried to blow a raspberry at me. She forgot to swallow the margarita first. The drink went everywhere, and I stopped her before she licked it off the bar.

I had drunk-sat my sister before, but she’d never gotten this bad. Lindsey giggled, whined, and nearly wet herself like a toddler.

Well, hell, if this was what having a baby was like, I could handle it. Especially since babies usually didn’t run up ridiculous bar tabs.

“You’re. No. Fun.” Lindsey pointed at me. “That’s what you are. No fun. No funny funny fanny.” She waved me close. “Know what’s fun?”

“I’m afraid to ask.”

“Fucking a curved cock.” She laughed a little too loud. “Don’t tell Bryce!”

“Oh, believe me.” I ordered another ginger ale. “No one is going to know what happened tonight.”

I certainly wasn’t telling a soul about the nightmare that was Lindsey’s first of three bachelorette parties.

No one would know how Lindsey insulted all of Taiwan during our mani/pedis.

Nor would I tell the story of the limo’s broken window and combustible two liter bottle of soda.

And I hoped I could get the video off YouTube of Lindsey performing karaoke on the restaurant’s hibachi. It was a good Beyoncé impression until they turned on the grill.

My sister never handled alcohol well. She took criticism of her drinking habits worse. My newest mission was forcing her to drink water before her head exploded, and we weren’t even in phase two of the bachelorette party.

Because Lindsey’s party wasn’t just one night.

Oh no.

This was only the beginning.

“If we want to get to the cabin, we should head out now.” I guided the bottle of water to her lips. She cheered, splashed, and spilled on me. At least she was excited about the weekend excursion to Bryce’s family’s lake house. “It’s a long trip—”

“God, Mandy. Can’t you just relax for once?” Lindsey belched, and that did nothing for the nausea swirling in my stomach. “You’re all…go here, go there, eat your noodles, go to the cabin, don’t steal the traffic cone, stop groping the policeman—”

“It’s your schedule,” I said. “You said to stick to the itinerary, no matter how many bars we crawled.”

“But I wanna dance!”

Lindsey attempted to take off her bra before removing her shirt. The shoulder strap snapped off, and she collapsed in a fit of giggles. She headed for her panties instead.