When Chelsea had proposed a joint bachelor/bachelorette party, I had been skeptical.

I wanted Demi to have her space with her girlfriends. And selfishly … I wanted to have my last night of freedom, doing stupid shit with my guys friends.

But two months after the Super Bowl, and here we were. Four shots and two beers down, everyone was drunk, giddy, and ready for a weekend of all out partying and fun.

“Dance with me!” Demi hung around my neck, her skimpy white dress silky against my fingertips.

She looked like sex on legs, very long legs with impossibly high heels at the bottom. The dress sank low in the front and back, so much so that I could feel her skin every time I brushed against her on the dance floor. And enough to drive me crazy with jealousy anytime another set of eyes fell across her.

“Anything for you, my bride,” I shouted, the music thumping in the air.

We had gone to Ocean City, Maryland, the world’s capital for bachelor and bachelorette weekends. We’d already day drank in the ocean, gone to a long dinner with lots of laughs and drinking, and now we were just basically drinking and dancing. Again. It was exactly how this weekend should go.

“Ew, that sounds morbid! I don’t like ‘my bride.’” Drunk Demi was bubbly and talkative, a little bit less reserved than her normal self.

It reminded me of college … the good times at least. The flirty anticipation we’d had each night, how attracted to her I was. Now it was a thousand times better, because I’d put my asshole stupidity behind me and recognized how amazing it was that I got to go home and stay home with her each night.

“Okay, what do you like?” My head swam with drink, but my limbs sung with happiness and horniness.

She sloshed her cranberry and vodka, the purple and blue lights of the club dancing across her face. “I like baby, babe, sweetie, bunny, gorgeous, sexy, and Mrs. Shaw.”

My cock jumped when she said her future last name. “Mrs. Shaw, huh? I’ll call you that all night, baby.”

“Stop flirting with your fiancé! This is supposed to be your last romp of freedom! Let your boobies out!” Chelsea ran up, breaking us apart and squeezing Demi’s boobs.

“You’re the one who made this a joint party!” Demi giggled.

Anthony came over, swaying, and I knew he hadn’t drank this much in years. “I love my wife, I love being a dad. Did you guys know we are having a baby boy?”

He’d only told anyone in the club who would listen, and then he told them again. But he was excited, and I was happy for the guy.

“Get this man a shot!” Connor came over, a blinking necklace of beads around his neck.

“Hey, where did you get those?” Farrah grabbed at them.

Connor swung away, but I could see his eyes lingering on her cleavage. “Show me your bra and maybe I’ll give them up.”

We were a merry band of idiots, and I couldn’t think of a better bunch to get rip roaring drunk and sloppy with.

“We’re in Maryland, not New Orleans. Nice try, buddy.” Farrah grinned madly at him, like she’d just made the point of the century.

“Oh my God, let’s go to New Orleans! I want a beignet!” Demi suddenly screams. “Quick, you can get a private plane or something, right baby?”

She’s looking at me like I can pull one out of thin air. “Slow down, Speed Racer. We’re staying right here. And what do you think I am, a millionaire?”

“Aren’t you?” Chelsea points at me, slurring.

“Point taken. Are you just marrying me for my money, Demi Rosen?”

This makes my woman giggle. “I think you’re marrying me for mine. Gold digger!”

Connor runs over to the stage, yelling up at the DJ. All of a sudden, Kanye West’s famous hit comes on, and all of the girls throw their hands in the air, letting out whooping shouts. I take Demi’s hips, smashing her back to my front, rubbing my growing cock on the backside that I love and admire.

“You got a boyfriend?” I tease her.

“Actually, I’m getting married.” She wiggles her ring finger at me. “But I’m single for the weekend. Bachelorette trip.”

I raise my eyebrows, molding us together as the beat invades our veins. “How funny! I’m here for my bachelor party.”

“Hmm, well, I envy the girl who gets to marry you.” She grins.

“Hey, how about we spend our last trip of freedom together? I saw a quiet place we can … talk.” I’m playing along.

Demi exaggerates a frown. “I won’t cheat on my fiancé.”

I coax her, brushing her hair to the side and kissing her neck. “What happens in Ocean City stays in Ocean City.”

She melts, goose bumps moving across all of that exposed skin, as I explore her collarbone with my lips. We don’t agree on it, but the next minute I’m pulling her along, heading for the small alcove I’d seen on the way in. It was tucked in the corridor where the bathrooms were located, a dark hallway with purple velvet walls that was muted from the sounds of the club, nothing but the thump of the beat invading here.

Demi followed me, her breathing quick and excited, as I led us down the hall, and into the cutout in the wall. Who knew what this space was supposed to be used for … possibly phone calls or a smoke break if it was too cold? I didn’t care, because right now, I was going to fuck my sexy ass fiancée in here.

“Take off your underwear,” I growled, unbuckling my belt.

My cock was screaming at me at this point, so hard and pounding with blood that I needed release.

“I’m not wearing any,” Demi pants.

That has me grabbing her, pushing her up against the wall so that her hands rest at her shoulders, and her cheek touches the velvety surface. Hiking up her dress, I thrust my fingers into her pussy, finding it wet and waiting for me.

“Fucking hell, babe.” I have to steady myself, because the aroma of her and the liquor in my system has me stumbling.

“Oh, Pax …” she moans, loudly, and I have to slap my other hand over her mouth.

“Shh, quiet, baby. Someone will catch us.” I can barely breathe I’m so turned on.

“Let them, I don’t care.” Demi is writhing between me and the wall.

Fuck. I have to be in her now. She’s about to combust and I want to feel it.

Removing myself roughly from my pants, I grab one of her hips, and line myself up with the other hand. I push on her back, and she bends to my will.

“Hold on, baby.”

I see her hand tense on the wall, and then I drive in until my balls slap against her clit.

“Oh my God!” she practically screams, and if anyone is in the bathroom, they can definitely hear this.

Hell, people in the club can probably hear this.

I don’t care at this point, nothing else but my cock buried insider her wetness registering. My hips slam against her ass, over and over as I wrench her hips back against me. She’s got her hand in her mouth, biting down on it while trying not to scream.

“I love you, Mrs. Shaw. Come for me, Mrs. Shaw,” I growl at her.

And as if she was doing it on command, I feel her walls tighten around me, a careening cry bursting from Demi’s lips.

I follow just on the heels of her orgasm, my climax ripping through me as I shoot my cum into her. I can barely breath as I lean against the wall. I stroke her hip, loving the feel of her sweat on my fingers.

The haze of lust lifts off slowly, but when clearer heads prevail, Demi starts to chuckle.

She turns her head, kissing my cheek. “I think we better get back to our bridal party before they realize we’ve gone off to have sex.”