A Very Dirty Wedding (20 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Caulter

“Get off the phone.” I step through the balcony door even though Kate waves me out, shaking her head.  She turns to the side, like she’s trying to shield the phone from me, and says something I don’t quite catch, but I hear the tone of her voice, and that interests me.  She’s irritated.

“I don’t think so,” she says, followed by silence.  “Because do you remember the last time we went out?”

“Is that Jo?” I ask.

Kate shakes her head and shields her mouth with her hand.  I’m tempted to take the phone out of her hand and throw it across the room like I did before, but I don’t, only because she’s looking irresistible in the yellow sundress she’s wearing that drapes down to the floor.  The fact that the top of it pushes her tits out to the point where they’re practically overflowing makes me want to put my mouth on them.

She keeps talking, even when I walk up to her and slide the fabric of the dress and her bra down over her luscious tits.  She shakes her head at me, her brow wrinkled and her expression scolding, but she doesn’t exactly stop me.

I run my fingers lightly over her breasts, watching her nipples rise to attention.

“No, Jo,” Kate says, her voice trailing off as I stroke her breast with my finger.  “I’m not in charge of the invitations.”  I bend down toward her, running my tongue over her nipple, and her head lolls back, phone still against her ear.  “
Nothing
is wrong.  I’m over what happened at the party.  But that doesn’t mean you’re coming to the wedding.”  She pauses for a minute, when I envelop her breast with my mouth.  Then she throws the phone on the bed without even saying goodbye.

“Was that Jo?” I ask, pulling up the volumes of fabric of her dress and sliding my hand between her legs.  “Why are you still talking to her?”

“I’m not,” she says, her breath short.  She’s wet already; the fact that she's wet so soon makes me rock hard.  I love how this girl is always ready for me, soaking between her legs the minute I get near her.  “I haven’t spoken to her since the party.  She wants an invitation to the wedding.”

“Why
were
you friends with her?” I ask, sliding my finger between her folds.  I slip it inside, watching her jaw go slack and her eyes half-close.

“I don’t know,” she says.  “I’ve known her for a while.  I mean, she's my friend during the summers up here.  She’s fun.  Funny.”

“She’s not a good person,” I say.  Kate already knows what I think.  “Is Ella dragging you to do wedding stuff?”

She answers, her breath already ragged.  “No, not me,” she says.  “I think she has friends she's doing that with.  Do you know how many celebrities are going to be here for this?  They’re already descending on the town.”

“Like a plague.”  I hitch her dress up around her waist and push her against the bed.  “So no one is looking for you right now.”

“No,” she says, her voice raspy.  “Is anyone looking for
you
?”

“Hell, no.”  I slip my fingers from between her legs and unbuckle my jeans.  “It’s just you and me.”

“There are so many people in the house, Caulter,” she whispers.  “Right downstairs.  Anyone could come up here.  I’m sure Rose will be looking for us.  I think she knows about us.”

“Then she won’t be looking for us,” I say, walking to the bedroom door and locking it.

“Why don’t we go somewhere?”

“We can,” I tell her.  “After I come inside that tight little pussy of yours.”

She groans.  “You’re making me --”

“Wet?” I ask.  “Yeah, Princess, I already felt that.”  I start to unbuckle my pants, slipping them over my ass, but she stops me.

“Just stop undressing and fuck me,” she says, wrapping her hand around my cock.  It throbs in her grip.  “Like, now.”

I don’t even bother to take her clothes off.  The urgency in her voice as she sits on the edge of the bed with her skirt hiked up around her waist, looking slightly disheveled, makes me want to do whatever she asks.  My pants are around my ass as I grip her thighs and pull her down until she’s hanging off the bed.

When I plunge my cock into her, she moans out loud.  I guess she doesn’t give that much of a shit about anyone hearing.  Thrusting inside her, I watch as she throws her head back, pressing against the mattress, and moans a little louder this time.  “Fuck me,” she orders.  “Harder.”

She’s so damn warm and wet I can’t take it.  I fuck her harder.  “You’re going to have to keep your moans down so your father and Ella don't catch us.”

That makes her moan again.

“Is that making you hot, Princess?” I ask, thrusting into her, my cock so deep I swear I’m going to bust through her.  “Knowing that our parents might hear us?”

“What you’re doing with your cock is making me hot,” she says.  Her voice is a little too loud, so I cover her mouth with my hand.  Her eyes fly open wide, and she bites into the side of my finger.

I thrust into her harder to punish her for biting me, and she groans.  My movements are rapid as I shove two fingers just inside the entrance of her mouth, the same two fingers that had been in her pussy a few minutes ago.  Watching her devouring the fingers that still have her juices on them makes me want to come.  I don’t care about holding out; I want to fill her up with my warm cum.  Her muscles tense around my cock and I know she’s ready.  “Suck them,” I whisper.  “Wrap those lips around my fingers like you do with my cock.”

She groans, low in her throat, her pussy tightening.

“Are you going to come for me, Princess,” I ask, and she nods her head, looking at me with big pleading eyes.  “Come for me.”

She’s been so close that the minute I give her permission, I feel the orgasm rip through her pussy, muscles tightening over and over as she comes.  Her back arches and I keep my fingers lodged firmly in her mouth, my thumb under her chin as I drive as deeply inside her as I can, letting go.  My balls clench up and I fill her up with my warm seed.

A minute later, my cock is still throbbing, still leaking with every spasm, and she’s grinning at me.  She pulls my fingers from her mouth.  “What the hell are we going to do tomorrow, Caulter?”

“There’s no fucking blood in my brain right now, and you’re asking me a question like this?  What's wrong with you?”

Katherine grips my palm, moves it down across her chest to cover her breast, and I knead the flesh with my hand.  “I mean it,” she says softly.  “They’re getting married tomorrow, and you’re fucking me.”

“Don’t forget,” I remind her.  “You’re
begging
me to fuck you.”

She wrinkles her forehead.  “Is there a bachelor party?”

“Are you trying to make me vomit?” I ask, running my other hand over her chest.

She giggles.  “You don’t want to go to a bachelor party with my father?” she asks.  “That doesn’t sound like fun?”

“Don’t be disgusting.”  The thought is so repulsive I can’t help but shiver.

“Am I going to have to see a bunch of Hollywood girls you’ve slept with, when we're at the ceremony tomorrow?”

I pause, mentally running through a list in my head of Ella’s friends I might or might not have banged.  It’s not a small list, but I don’t tell her that.  “Maybe.”

“Shit, Caulter,” she says, slapping my hand.  “Don’t fucking tell me that.”

“You asked.  You want me to lie to you?”

“I don’t know what I want,” she says.  “But we can’t keep doing this, you know.”

“Why the hell not?” I ask.  “Other than that you have some fucking hang ups.”

“Me and the rest of the world,” she says.  “They’re getting married.”

“So?” I ask.  “We’re not actually related.  You do realize that, don’t you?”

She shakes her head.  This little chunk of hair falls over her forehead and across her eye when she moves, and I lift it back into place.  “That’s what people will think, Caulter.”

“No,” I say.  “People will think we’re two adults who are completely unrelated and who are also screwing.”

“That’s all this is, right?” she asks.

“What do you want from me, Kate?” I ask.  I sound annoyed, but the truth is, I've thought about this.  She has no idea how much I've fucking thought about her -- or us.  I never stop thinking about it.

Doesn’t she get how absolutely insane it is that I’ve been with her, and only her, since the end of the school year?  
That
is not me.  Sticking my cock in one pussy for months is not me.  Spending all my fucking time with she same chick is not me.  Laughing at the stupid little things that chick says when I’m lying in bed at night, before I fall asleep, is not me either.  Yet, here we are.

“You want me to be your fucking boyfriend or something?"  I ask.  "Or you want this to be our dirty little secret?  I’m not sure what the hell you’re going for here."

She looks at me through narrowed eyes.  She might be irritated, but it says something that we're having this conversation while I'm still inside her, with my hand on her tit.  “I’m saying we can’t keep doing this, because we’re going to get caught.”

I thumb my finger over her nipple.  “Says the chick who was moaning so loud a minute ago we were
sure
to get caught.”

“Because you make me crazy,” she says.  “I can’t trust myself with you.”

“So you want to stop?”  Her nipple is hard under my finger, and I feel my cock begin to stir again.  This girl is like taking a little blue pill.  I’m constantly hard for her.

“We shouldn’t keep going,” she says.

“They’re not married yet.”

“They will be tomorrow.”

“So tomorrow we’ll stop,” I say, pinching her nipple between my fingers and watching her flinch.  But she doesn’t smack my hand away.  Instead, her pussy muscles tighten around me.

“Just like that?” she asks.

“Just like that,” I tell her.  “You don’t want to fuck me, I won’t fuck you.”

“It’s that easy for you.”

Of course not,
I want to say.  As if I want to stop fucking her?  This girl has me wrapped around the axle, thinking about her constantly.  I
can’t
stop.  But I don’t tell her that.  I
can’t
tell her that.  “It’s that easy.”

“Fine,” she says, her jaw clenching.  But when I roll my palm across her other breast, she arches her back into my touch.  “Then we’ll stop.”

“We should probably screw as much as possible today,” I whisper.  “If we’re going to stop.”

“Yes,” she says.  “We should.”  She presses her hips toward mine, and I reach down, gripping her thigh.

“I’d hate for you be walking down the aisle tomorrow any way other than bow-legged,” I say.

“You’re such a prick,” she says, as my cock stiffens.  But she’s smiling.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Katherine

Today’s the day.

D-day.

My father’s wedding to Ella.

Caulter was true to his word.  He left me walking like a cowboy dismounted a horse after days of riding.  The stylist doing my hair this morning asked if I was okay, and my face turned the shade of eggplant.

This wedding is the social event in this part of New Hampshire.  It's a huge deal.  Thank God our lake house wasn't big enough for it to be held in the backyard; my father's engagement party in the yard of my mother's favorite place was tacky as hell already.

I’d say that my mother would have turned over in her grave, but the truth is, she would honestly want my father to be happy.  It’s just the kind of person she was.

Caulter and I are supposed to be on the way to the wedding, with the rest of the wedding party.  It's being held at this bed and breakfast, this huge place that used to be a hotel in the 1800's.  We're not with the rest of the wedding party, though -- I lied to Ella and told her that I needed Caulter’s help with a surprise for my father.

“Are you okay?” he asks, when the limo comes to a stop.

“I’ll just be a minute.  Thank you for coming here with me.”

He nods.  “I can go out with you, if you want.”

“No,” I tell him.  “I won’t be long.”  I take the flowers and walk across the grass, my heels sinking into the dirt.  Ella is going to freak when she sees the way my stilettos are going to leave little clumps of dirt behind as I walk down the aisle, but I don't care.  The hem of my dress drags in the grass, but I can’t quite bring myself to give that much of a shit about that either.

I set the flowers on my mother's grave, replacing the ones from a few days ago that are only just starting to wilt, and put the other ones on the stone a few feet away.  It’s a kid’s grave, and no one brings flowers, which always makes me sad.

It seems weird, slightly inappropriate, to be doing this in a bridesmaid dress right before my father marries someone else.  But I couldn’t quite bring myself to participate in this day without talking to her first.  I swallow hard.

“I miss you,” I say.  “I think you wouldn’t think Ella’s so bad, though.  Caulter hates her, I think.  Or, maybe not hates, exactly.  I think he feels the same way about her that I do about dad.  You wouldn’t like that, actually, the way I feel about dad.”  I always come out here and talk to her, but I haven’t quite been able to bring myself to talk to her about Caulter.

“So the wedding is today.  I’m on my way, with Caulter,” I say.  “I hope you would be okay with it.”  It sounds like I’m talking about the wedding, but it’s Caulter I really mean.  This wedding has to be the end of what's been brewing between us; it would be terrible for my father's campaign, a media shitstorm if it came out.  That's the last thing my father needs.  "I love you, mom."

I feel somber on the walk back to the car, a weird sadness is settling over me.  It’s like I’m letting go -- not letting go of my mother, but of Caulter.

There's a small nagging part of me that thinks that my father's political aspirations shouldn't dictate my whole life.  The part of me that keeps the admission letter from UCLA in my desk.  The part of me that emailed the director of the art department there last week to see if I could set up a visit while my father and Ella were away on their honeymoon.  The part of me that thinks I should tell my father to go fuck himself, because I’m going to do what I want.

It's just too bad that part isn't stronger.

Back in the car, Caulter looks at me with concern.  “Are you ready?”

“I’m ready.”