CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
MY TORN LOYALTIES
PRESENT
JAMES
I wiped my mouth with a napkin, setting it down carefully, looking across the table at my friend.
We often met up for lunch, so I'd had no reason to see this coming.
I stared at Tristan. He was one of my closest friends, and I wondered why he was doing this to me, putting me in this position right before my wedding.
I sighed. "Tristan, this is Bianca's department—"
"Bullshit. She hates organizing this stuff. Either you or the wedding planner are handling these kinds of details."
I grimaced, rubbing at my temple, feeling torn by both a need to protect Danika and respect her wishes, and an acute sympathy for Tristan and the way I knew he felt about her. I was one of the few that knew what had happened between them.
"I don't think this is going to go the way you think it is," I told him, my tone careful. Gentle.
"I'm not asking you to control that part. That part is my burden. I'm just asking you to seat me by her. Just give me something, some contact, an opening to get her to speak to me again." He swallowed, looking away. "Please."
How could I say no to that? There was an entreaty in his voice that I could not deny.
I tried one last time, for Danika. "Tristan, why can't you just let this go?"
But I knew. Even after six long years, years of bitter separation, an endless, silent, hostile standoff all laying heavy across each of those years, Tristan was a man obsessed.
"Listen," he started haltingly. "Even if she never—even if I, ugh, there are some things I need to change. I . . . I'm not who I was. I'm not the junkie that broke her heart and ruined her life. I know I'm not. But I need her to know that. Her eyes break my heart every time I look at them. If nothing else, I need to look in those eyes and see that she understands that I've changed."
I nodded. "Closure," I tried.
He sliced an impatient hand through the air. "No, not fucking closure. Closure is bullshit. A fucking myth. What I'm looking for is peace. Anything approaching absolution."
"You only love like this once," Tristan explained to me. "I don't know about women, but I don't think men were made to survive this twice. That's okay, though. It's worth it. Even if it all blows up in your face, it's worth it. Don't take one single second of it for granted."
Poor bastard. I felt for him, now more than ever. "I'm so sorry, my friend. So sorry you and Danika had to take different paths."
His eyes went wild. "No." He shook his head. "No. No. We're not on different paths. She's my path."
How could I tell him no, when I knew exactly how he felt? I just didn't have it in me. I could be a very hard man, but not to those I cared about, not to those I loved.
"Swear you'll never hurt her again. Not in any way. Promise me." I had to say it, even knowing how he'd react. Such was the nature of my torn loyalties.
His eyes went wild, his shoulders bunching up, as though it took every muscle in his body to keep his gut reaction toned down to something appropriate for this quiet restaurant. The room was suddenly too small for him.
"You think you need to tell me that? You think it's your place?" An impotent rage dripped from his words. He was angrier at himself than he was with me, because we both knew why I had to ask.
He'd broken her once, and though I had faith in him now, in who he'd become, I had to hear the words.
I didn't flinch from his rage, meeting his wild stare with my calm one. "She's my friend. I care about her, and you're asking me to help you get close to her again. It's not a comfortable position that you're putting me in, and I just need to hear you say the words."
He took a few deep breaths, looking away, his rage deflating out of him, and I could see the reason flowing back in. "I swear. I won't hurt her. I'll spend the rest of my life trying to make up for the times that I have."
I nodded, satisfied with that.
"C'mon, James," he said, smiling now, a broken smile, managing his anger like the grownup he'd become. "I keep hearing all of these matchmaking stories about you. Why are you so hesitant to use that talent for my benefit?"
I grinned. "I'm new at it. Not yet qualified to interfere in your mess of a love life. I need to work up to a task like that."
"That's a terrible attitude. Where's the arrogant prick I've come to know and love, who thinks he can run the world?"
I ignored that, sighing deeply, my mind on my future wife. "Bianca isn't going to like this. She's grown fiercely protective of Danika."
Bianca reacted about how I thought she would, though I did my best to put her in a good frame of mind before I told her.
I came home early from work, wandering through the house until I found her playing in the closet, her back to me.
I stood in the doorway, silently watching her for quite a while.
She had her wedding dress out, a veil on her head, more hair accessories laid out on the closet's large table, as though she was deciding which to wear.
She was dressed in some lacy white underthings that I assumed were meant either for under her wedding dress or after the wedding.
I loved her in lace. Pale lace, a perfect foil to her flawless alabaster skin. Antique lace was my favorite, the stiff kind, that upgraded her skin just a bit, but this was up there, too. Just then she wore soft, stretchy lace, all of it starkly white. Every bit of it screamed bride.
My blood coursed through my veins, my cock swelling and throbbing in time to the erratic rhythm of my heart.
My eyes moved over the lace topped stockings that ran up her thighs as she bent down.
I moved a few steps closer to her to see what she was doing. She was fastening some delicate white heels on her feet.
Her long hair cascaded over her shoulder as she played dress up with her wedding finery.
God, had I ever looked upon a more lovely sight?
She looked both pure and sinful all at once. It was the most heady combination.
I wanted to ravish her more than I wanted to breathe, but I held back, savoring the vision of her first. Inhaling the feast before I partook.
My cock pulsed persistently as I started quietly unbuttoning my shirt. I reached for my belt next, and the sound of it dropping to the floor finally penetrated.
She jumped, her hand flying to her chest. When she recovered, she glared. "One of these days, I really am going to put a bell on you."
That surprised a laugh out of me.
She glanced down at the front of my pants, where my erection tented the material out.
Her lips parted as her breath quickened
"Isn't it bad luck for me to see you in the lingerie I'm going to fuck you in at the wedding?"
She gave me a rueful lift of her brow. "You're getting things mixed up. You don't fuck at weddings."
"Make love."
She laughed, the sound music to my ears. "You don't make love at weddings, either."
"Why not?"
"It's . . . inappropriate. And besides, there's no place to do it. It's usually in a place crowded with other people."
"The wedding reception, then."
"After the reception, maybe."
I smiled at her fondly. She knew me better than that, but I didn't pursue it. It would come up later. Guaranteed.
"Stand on the table," I ordered her abruptly.
"What?"
I pulled a stepping stool that was used to reach shoes up to the closet's large island dresser.
"Get up there," I told her with a smile. "Heels off," I added, when she started to move.
She bit her lip and did it.
I looked up at her once she was up there, gauging the position.
I moved to stand on the footstool, then motioned her to me, until she was close enough that I could lean forward and kiss her naval, tonguing the piercing there.
"Will your wedding dress be too thin to hide nipple clamps?"
"Yes," she gasped.
"Hmm, okay, I'll work around it," I said, then pulled off her thong with my teeth.
I threw her leg over my shoulder, gripped her ass in both hands, and went to town on her pussy, eating her out, feasting on her sweet pink flesh.
I used my tongue to move the little barbell against her clit as I shoved my fingers into her, finger fucking her right to the brink.
When she was close, I took my mouth away, ripped my fingers out, and shrugged her leg off my shoulder.
I held my arms up to her. She leaned unsteadily into them. I lifted her down.
I took off my slacks. There was a long narrow bench along one of the walls, and I pulled it out. One of its sides was much taller than the other, and I leaned back on it. It was meant for putting on boots, but it had other, better uses as well.
I put my arms behind my head and looked at her. "Straddle me," I ordered.
She straddled me easily with those long legs of hers. The bench made for easy access cowgirl.
I gripped her hips and looked up into her face as she rubbed her pussy over my broad tip.
She still had on the lacy white bra, and I left it on. It was transparent enough that I could see her pebbled nipples pushing tightly against the material.
"Give me your mouth," I commanded.
She leaned forward, brushing her lips over mine softly.
I parted her lips, pushing my tongue inside. My hands moved from her hips to cup her face as I pushed up into her.
She moaned into my mouth. I held still like that, not moving my hips as I held her impaled and kissed her, over and over.
"We need to discuss some wedding details," I told her between kisses.
She groaned, and it wasn't with pleasure.
I pulled away, hands going back to her hips, eyes on her face. I lifted her slowly up and down my thick shaft, setting a pace meant to tease more than satisfy. And her tightness, and my thickness, made it so each drag in and out held a little slice of torture.
I quickened the pace, surging up into her harder, filling and withdrawing, time and again, but never enough.
I stopped abruptly, hands going up into her hair. I dragged her down for another series of long, drugging kisses.
She groaned loudly as my tongue parted her lips, thrusting inside. I kissed her, not moving inside of her, until she was on the brink.
I tore my mouth away, gripping her ass, and slowly began to move my hips, leisurely thrusts.
I quickened my pace, driving in more forcefully, but only for a short time.
I stopped, grabbed the back of her neck, and dragged her down for another deep, branding kiss.
I repeated the teasing process, time and again.
I was moving her slowly up and down my shaft when she cried out suddenly, "Is this a punishment?"
"No," I said surprising myself. "Just a bit of sweet torture. Savoring the bliss, love. Have I told you how much I love it when I catch you playing wedding dress up, oh bride of mine?"
She almost smiled, but I'd put her in a state of rapturous agony, and it was more of a pained grimace.
I groaned. I could feel my balls tightening up, my body long since wanting to come, but instead I lifted her off me.
She cried out a protest, and I shot her a warning glance as I stood.
Hooking a finger in her collar, I pulled her from the closet to the bedroom.
I told her to stand still by the bedpost and went to the toy dresser.
Her lacy white thigh-highs were driving me wild, and I barely took my eyes off her to reach for restraints.
I cuffed her arms up above her head, attaching them to a hook high up on the bedpost.
I filled one hand with a plump tit, the other with her straining neck, rubbing my broad tip against her slick entrance. With a groan I surged into her, moving fast and rough this time, fucking her with purpose.
I squeezed her neck when she started to come, exerting just enough pressure to enhance her pleasure as she found her release.
I followed with a groan, leaning down to bite the tendon in her neck.
Later, over dinner, I told her about Tristan's request.
She looked as conflicted as I felt.
"Danika won't like it," she said simply. "We can't do it unless she agrees to it."
"I'll talk to her."
She made a face. "I can . . . if you want me to."
I laughed, couldn't quite hide a smile. We both knew how much she'd hate the task. I didn't like it much either, but of course I'd do it, to spare her having to.
Danika took it much better than I expected, quickly making a point to reassure me that she could play nice and wouldn't cause any drama at the wedding.
"Even if you have to sit next to him?" I asked carefully, feeling like I was walking through a field of land mines.
We were at the casino. I'd called her up to the office during working hours, because it seemed like something I should tell her about in person.
She took a deep breath, but then nodded, not even looking upset about it. "That's fine."
"Even if you have to walk with him in the wedding?"
"It's fine. I'm fine with it, James. If I can't be nice to one person for one day, your wedding day, then what kind of a friend would I be?"
I was hugely relieved. I'd been expecting the worst.
"Thank you," I told her sincerely.
"Don't mention it," she said with a smile, shocking the hell out of me, and went back to work.