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One Night Only by M. S. Parker (41)

Two

I couldn't do it.

When Brock and I first walked into the massive, ancient church, I was full of confidence. He'd bought me a dress that made me look like I belonged here and sent me to one of the best stylists in the city. He'd even given me a necklace that matched my eyes. For the first time in my life, I felt jealousy from girls who'd grown up with everything. Then saw Rebecca's face as she came out to speak to her parents, the look on her face was priceless, every emotion she’d ever possessed must have flitted over her expression. The fact that she was wearing a yellow dress that made her look sallow and washed-out made me feel even better.

Brock, of course, had to take his place with Reed, leaving me to sit alone, but even that was okay. I was content to look at the decorations and flowers, all of which cost more than I made in a year, maybe more. The colors were yellow and blue, more spring colors than summer, and I'd wondered if Britni'd had any say in them. I had to admit, I was curious to see her.

Then the groom and his groomsmen had come in and I watched Reed's face when he saw me. The shock, then something that had looked like sadness, before he finally settled on a smile so fake I'd doubted it fooled anyone. I didn’t let myself linger on him, instead I searched for Brock, flirting with little smiles even while feeling Reed's eyes on me.

When the bridal march started, I stood and turned with everyone else, but the veil kept me from seeing anything about Britni other than her dark hair. I made it through the opening, but when the priest got to the part of the ceremony where he announced that the couple had written their own vows, my stomach lurched and I knew I couldn't stay.

I hurried out as quickly as I dared, not quite breaking into a run, and now I was wandering around, trying to find somewhere I could wait out the rest of the ceremony until it was safe to come down. Once it was all over, I'd be okay, or at least that was the current lie I was working on. I was still telling myself it when I found myself in the last place I expected.

The bell tower. The wind was brisker up here than it had been on the ground and it cooled my overheated face. I looked out over the city and could almost imagine no one else in the world existed. Right now, that sounded pretty good.

“Piper?”

I froze. I had to be dreaming. There was no way that voice was real. I stayed facing the horizon, closing my eyes as I felt tears burning behind my eyes.

“Piper.”

He was closer this time and I couldn't deny who it was anymore.

“I couldn't do it.”

I turned then. Reed's previously flawless hair was a wild mess and his face was flushed. I swallowed hard, unable to stop my stomach from twisting at the sight of him.

“I got up there and it was like I could see my whole life stretching out in front of me. Empty. Because it was the wrong woman standing across from me.” He walked toward me, until there was less than a foot between us. “I'm so sorry for how I treated you, and I promise I'll never give you a reason to doubt me again.”

Despite everything that had happened, I wanted to believe him. The connection we made at the reunion was still there, drawing me to him. My heart thudded a warning against my ribcage, telling me not to be stupid... again. The rest of me was remembering what it had been like to have him touching me, thrusting into me. Consuming me.

He closed the last of the distance between us, as if he knew I couldn't make the move. “Please,” he said softly. “Forgive me. I need you. I can't be without you.”

I tilted my head back and he took it as my acceptance. His mouth was gentle, his lips moving slowly with mine, as if we had all the time in the world. As if there wasn't total chaos going on beneath our feet as people were trying to figure out what had happened.

He held my face as his tongue slid between my lips, his fingers touching me as if I was something delicate, breakable. When his hands moved down my neck to my shoulders, I stepped into him, pressing my body against his, melting into his warmth. I slipped my hands under his jacket, feeling the heat of his skin through the thin cotton of his dress shirt. My palms slid over his muscular sides and up to his shoulders even as his fingers moved over my back, bare skin burning beneath his touch.

I hadn't even realized we'd moved until his hands were at my waist, maneuvering me as he sat on a wooden bench tucked into a hidden alcove. His hands ran down my ass to my thighs, pulling my legs onto either side of his waist so I was straddling his lap. I could feel him hard beneath me and the knowledge that I caused it made me wet.

His hands moved to the thin straps of my dress and I pulled back, our eyes locked as he slowly lowered my top until it pooled around my waist, leaving my breasts bare to his hungry gaze. My head fell back as his lips made their way down my throat, light butterfly kisses that stirred things deep inside my core. I leaned further back, trusting him to bear my weight as one arm stretched along the length of my spine.

When his mouth closed around my nipple, I bit my lip to stifle a cry. The last thing we needed was to have someone hear us and come investigate. I should've felt guilty about how wonderful he felt against my breast while his bride was downstairs, humiliated, but all I could think about was the delicious pull of his mouth.

I buried my fingers in his hair, holding him against me until the pleasure was almost too much. I tugged on his hair, bringing his face up so I could cover his mouth with mine, sucking his tongue into my mouth until he groaned. My stomach tightened and I knew what I wanted. He'd once said he wanted it too and now I was going to make it happen.

I climbed off his lap and went down on my knees, grateful I hadn't worn hose. The stones were cool and hard against my knees, but I didn't care. I made short work of his pants, opening them just enough for me to get what I wanted. I didn't bother teasing him, I wanted him too much for that. I lowered my head, taking as much of him into my mouth as possible. I moaned around his cock as his flavor exploded across my taste buds. I'd almost forgotten how good it felt to have him in my mouth, and it had only been a week. I couldn't wait to find out what it felt and tasted like to have him come.

Up and down his length I stroked him, reveling in his taste and the moans coming from his throat. I sucked hard, then softened, teasing my tongue around and over him. His hand came to rest on my head and I could feel the tension in his legs as he fought not to thrust hard into my mouth. I shoved a hand into his pants, cupping his balls and he moaned what sounded very much like my name.

His hand tugged at my hair and I knew it was a warning. I didn’t care. I wanted this, wanted him. I sucked harder, hollowing my cheeks, suctioning him into my throat. I wanted all of him and relaxed my throat until I met my goal, my mouth stretched wide enough to hurt.

“Fuck!”

The word was muffled and I was pretty sure he had his free hand in his mouth, but I didn't look up, as the warmth of his orgasm filled my mouth. I took it all, swallowing then swallowing again, gladly accepting his body into mine. I drew back slowly, letting the last of his seed spill across my tongue. When he finally slipped from between my lips, I'd made a solemn promise to do that as often as possible.

He was breathing hard as he looked at me, his eyes so black I couldn't see the difference between his pupil and iris. He reached forward and pulled me to him, crushing his mouth against mine, his tongue plundering my mouth and I knew he could taste himself there. When he broke the kiss, I expected us to be done and told the ache between my legs to wait. Instead, he pulled on my arms until I stood and then pushed up the bottom of my dress, exposing the tiny thong I wore. He pulled it aside and buried his tongue inside me. I swore softly, rocking my hips against his face as he licked me, every pass of his tongue sending me higher and higher until I danced along the edge of pleasure. He flicked his tongue across the top of my clit and I came, clutching his shoulders and pushing myself against his talented mouth. He stayed there as I rode out my orgasm, moving back only when my body stopped convulsing.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, pressing his lips against my hip.

I looked down at him, running my fingers along his cheek and down to his lips. It wasn't until he sat back and started to pull me with him that I realized he was hard again. My pussy tightened as I realized there was more to come.

I settled on his lap, holding myself just above his thick shaft until our arms were wrapped around each other, our faces barely an inch apart, and then I sank down slowly, letting myself enjoy the stretch and burn of him entering me. Skin slid against skin as my body welcomed him and my muscles began to tremble with the strain of taking him all in. When we started to move together, everything else disappeared. There was no wedding, no crying bride. No fatigue or jet-lag. We had all the time in the world and there was no one else who existed. How long we made love there, I didn't know, only that I never wanted it to end. It was perfect, and as we came together, his cock pulsing as it emptied into me, I'd never felt more complete.

I heard a gasp and raised my head. Pale blue eyes accused me and I didn't know if they were Brock's or his sister's, only that we'd been caught...

My head jerked up, almost colliding with the face of the smiling flight attendant who'd woken me.

“We're about to land in Philadelphia, Miss.” She didn't seem at all perturbed by my sudden and almost violent waking. “You need to put your seatbelt on.”

I let out a shaky breath as I buckled myself in. The remnants of my dream clung to me and I couldn't brush them off. It was far from the first sex dream I'd ever had, and not even the first one to star Reed. I'd had those before we'd slept together. But, there was something about it that disturbed me more than I'd imagined possible.

I told myself it was because I'd had it in public and I glanced around, hoping I hadn't moaned – or worse, actually climaxed. My panties were wet and sticky, but I was sincerely hoping it was just arousal. As embarrassing as it was, I knew it wasn't the reason this dream was bothering me.

The logical reasoning was because it had happened at the wedding. My subconscious made me do something to some poor girl that no woman should ever have done to her. I'd made her get left at the altar and then I’d fucked the man she was supposed to marry. Surely it made me a horrible, awful person.

That wasn't why I felt guilty though. I'd had dreams where I'd killed people, dreams where I'd stolen things, and I'd never felt guilty or disturbed. I'd also had dreams where I was flying and one particularly strange one where I'd been an ice cream sundae being chased by a giant banana. Okay, that one had some serious Freudian leanings, but for the most part, I knew that dreams were dreams. I never felt responsible for what happened in them. So what made this one different?

As the captain announced our descent, it hit me.

The knot in my stomach, the guilt that was almost choking me, I was feeling all of it because, despite everything Reed had done, deep down I wanted him to choose me.