Chapter 2

Mira

Oh, god. Oh, god, oh, god, oh, god!

Did that seriously just happen?

I want to tell myself that it was all just some crazy dream fantasy or something, but the sticky cum soaking through my panties tells another story.

Holy shit. I totally just came watching some random man eat out my mom’s bridesmaid. What the hell?

I watch as he licks the creamy frosting—or is it cum? Cum cake? I don’t even know—off his fingers, and I still can’t seem to tear my eyes away.

Something must be wrong with me.

Oh, yes, that’s right. This is about as close as I’ve ever come to a real sexual experience.

Twenty-five years of pent-up desire, with only my hands and toys to keep me company, apparently unleashes with me getting off watching other people.

I had no clue I was a closet voyeur.

But no. That’s not right.

It’s just this guy…there’s something about him that draws me in. I can’t drag my gaze from his. It’s like I’m mesmerized, trapped, by those eyes.

Eyes that are currently dancing with mirth as he withdraws his fingers from his mouth and gives me another sly little wink.

Fuck.

I’m trembling again.

Yeah, right now, I feel like I might do anything this guy asks.

I can’t explain it. That’s not me at all. I don’t just throw myself at random men. Obviously. Hence, the V-card.

“You want some of this, baby?” the man says, and the deep rumble of his voice practically reverberates through my body. I can feel it all the way in my clit.

Mom’s bridesmaid writhes on top of the ruined wedding cake, moaning, “More…more…”

But the question wasn’t for her.

It was for me.

Now would be the time to turn and leave. Well, let’s be real, the time to turn and haul ass right back out the door would have been the second I stumbled in here.

But the shock and pure eroticism of what I found was so much that, well, I didn’t.

“That’s right, baby,” he murmurs—to the bridesmaid—I mean, his eyes are still on me. “You want me deep inside your pussy, don’t you?”

“Yeeeessssss!” she wails, and her voice stops me just in time from nodding my head at his words.

Fuck. I can’t think straight.

I do want him deep inside my pussy. I can’t even explain it.

I don’t know who this dude is. A total prick, by the looks of it.

But I can’t help it.

There’s something that has me sucked right in to whatever game he’s playing right now. Some magnetic type of pull that defies explanation.

I mean, come on, that shit’s not real, right?

You hear about people or read about people in trashy romance novels who have this connection. Like they see someone and just can’t resist that pull.

I always thought it was bullshit.

“Beg for it,” he commands. “Tell me how bad you want me.”

It’s like he’s reading my mind.

“Soooo bad, baby. Fuck me. Please.”

Oh. Right. The bridesmaid again.

I watch as he takes his fingers, still wet from his mouth, and parts her pussy lips, sliding two long digits right inside her, all the way to the hilt.

The sleeves of his dress shirt are rolled up, and I can see the muscles in his forearm twitch as he finger-fucks her.

I can only imagine what magic those fingers must be working.

Yeah, that’s right. Imagine. Virgin, remember?

I mean, it’s not exactly like I’ve never had an orgasm. Like I said, I have fingers of my own.

But I have no idea what it must be like to have a man’s fingers deep inside me, stroking, thrusting, and curling to hit my G-spot just right.

Here’s the thing, babe.

I’ve worked my ass off for years, all through college, to develop my lingerie company, Wilder Lingerie, from the ground up. I started out making my own designs, even doing the actual sewing myself in the beginning.

I paid my way through college—and then some. The company has grown beyond my wildest dreams. I’m on the brink of major success, the kind that people only imagine.

So, basically, I haven’t had time to fuck around. Literally.

Not to mention, I don’t trust guys not to be out for themselves.

I mean, it’s not exactly like I’ve had a good example with my mom’s track record.

But back to the issue at hand. His hands.

I mean, how am I even more turned on right now looking at his hands? But they’re large and strong, his fingers long and skilled.

Believe me, I know. The bridesmaid’s moans and whimpers tell me all I need to know about how adept this guy’s fingers are.

And why shouldn’t they be? He looks like he’s had his fair share of women in his day.

He’s definitely older than me. Ten years? Fifteen?

I can’t tell.

His eyes crinkle slightly at the corner when he smirks at me, and there’s a trace of silver at his temples.

But other than that, he’s kind of ageless. Like some kind of Greek god or something. His body certainly fits the bill.

He’s fucking gorgeous. And he knows it.

I continue to watch him work this woman over, totally entranced as he leans over her again, his fingers still pistoning inside her, while her moans grow louder and louder.

Then, he grazes his tongue from the top of her pussy all the way up her stomach to her breasts—which by the way are bouncing away just as well as any porn star’s—and flicks it across her nipples again, taking another scoop of frosting away with him as he straightens back up.

God, it’s so wrong somehow, I just know it is, but I want more. I want to keep watching. I want to see what he’ll do next.

How the hell did I even end up in here?

Oh, that’s right, I was looking for a reprieve from people asking me where my date was tonight. After about the hundredth time of telling them I’d pretty much been stood up, I needed to find some space to catch my breath.

And instead, I found this.

Yeah, I’m catching my breath alright. Right now, I’m sucking air into my lungs in almost-gasps.

“Come for me, baby,” he growls out.

I pause. Who is he talking to this time?

And why do I want so badly for it to be me? I really shouldn’t.

I should actually be totally repulsed by what’s going on here. Yet I’m not.

“I’m coming!” she wails, answering the question for me about just who is supposed to be coming for him.

That’s fine. I already did. I just hope to god he doesn’t know it.

I have no idea what I must look like right now. A sex-starved mess?

God, I hope not.

As he withdraws his fingers, he scoops up more frosting—fuck, there’s going to be nothing left of this wedding cake. I don’t even want to imagine my mom’s reaction—then holds his hand out toward me yet again.

“Want a taste?”

Holy shit. It’s like the illusion is burst.

Like he was some actor on a stage, and I was just a quiet observer in the audience. Then he just busted that fourth wall wide open. Shit just got real.

The bridesmaid is all but forgotten.

He gets up and starts toward me, his eyes boring into mine. I can feel the overwhelming weight of whatever this is between us.

But I can’t give in to it.

No matter how much I might wish he’d do every dirty thing to me that I just witnessed, my brain somehow snaps out of its lust-induced haze, and I realize just how crazy this is.

This guy is a total stranger. He obviously has no respect for women or weddings.

Yet I find myself drawn to him…?

No. Fuck that. I’m not going to get tangled up in any bullshit tonight.

It’s my mom’s wedding night, after all. I should be out there celebrating with her, not in here getting off like some little voyeuristic little ho.

Another step closer. And another.

He’s closing the distance fast.

“I asked you if you’d like a taste.” Dammit, there’s that sexy smirk again. “I know I would.”

My heart is about to pound out of my chest. Because, yes, I very much would. I can imagine myself licking cake off his fingers, his mouth, his very hard cock.

My eyes drop down, almost as if they have a mind of their own. Holy hell. This guy is packing something massive.

I feel my pussy gush all over again just looking at the outline of his thick cock straining against his dress pants.

The desire I’m feeling right now is like nothing I’ve ever experienced in my life.

Another step closer.

Yeah, I have to get out of here. Like, now.

Without a word, and with everything in my body screaming NO, NO, NO at me, I spin on my heel.

My body is betraying me as I walk unsteadily toward the door. Like it knows I don’t really want to leave.

But you know what? My mind is stronger. And, somehow, I make it out the door without dropping to my knees in front of that man.

The only thing I can hope for now is that I don’t see him again tonight.

Because I’m afraid I can only resist for so long.