A Very Dirty Wedding (26 page)

I don't respond.  I keep my eyes on him while I slip my shirt over my head.  He yanks my bra off and tosses it to the side, roughly now, and my swollen breasts hang heavy.

I'm pregnant, buck naked in a car, telling my soon-to-be husband to come on my face.  I guess I don't have to worry about the whole boring married life thing, if it's anything like the way things are now.

Caulter caresses my breasts as I wrap my lips back around him, returning to doing what I was doing.  It's not long before he pulls me tighter, his cock deeper in my throat as he starts to lose control.

When he calls me Princess, repeating it over and over as he fucks my mouth, I know he's close.  He's hard to the point that he's about to explode, and I taste his pre-cum, salty in my mouth.

Finally, he warns me.  "Princess, you better be ready.  Are you sure?"

I moan my approval, and he pulls out, spraying me with his hot cum.  I feel it dripping on my cheeks, my breasts, down my belly, and I reach up to touch my fingers to it when Caulter speaks, his voice terse.  "Oh shit," he says.

"It's okay," I say.  "It was totally hot."

"No, Kate," he says, his voice insistent now.  "There's a cop behind us!  I can see him in the rearview mirror!"

"What?  Oh, shit."  My heart is pounding at a rate that can't be healthy for a human being.

Running my fingers frantically through my hair and wiping my mouth, I, pulling my pants back up around my belly.  I scramble for my shirt, not bothering with the bra, and shimmy into my maternity pants with all of the grace of a very pregnant woman.

That's the one good thing I can say about these stretchy maternity pants, at least – they're great for pulling off and on.  Which makes them great for quickies in the back seat of cars.  The pants manufacturer should definitely think about that fact when they're coming up with advertising campaigns.

I bring my hand up to my face as Caulter struggles to zip his pants up and buckle them beside me.

"Oh shit," he says, wiping his shirt across the cum on my face.  "Get in the passenger seat and I'll climb into the driver's side."

But we don't have a chance to do that before the cop knocks on the car window.  Caulter rolls down the back passenger window.  "Can I help you, officer?" he asks, his voice innocent.

The policeman looks at us behind mirrored sunglasses.  "Got a report of a suspicious vehicle pulled over on the side of the road here," he says.  "License and registration, please."

"Sure," Caulter says, giving him his best choirboy grin.  "I'd be happy to get it.  The registration is in the glove compartment, so I need to get out of the car."

The officer pauses.  "Any particular reason for loitering on the side of the road?"

I interrupt, my hands on my pregnant belly.  "That would be my fault, sir," I say.  "I was car sick and my husband found a place to pull over to give me a break from riding in the car."

The officer grunts.  "Well, you pulled over in a small town," he says.  "Mrs. Winters up the way likes to watch for loiterers with her binoculars.  There are better places you can pick to pull over, I'm sure.  Next exit up from here, there's a Wal-Mart with a parking lot."

"Yes, sir," Caulter says.  "We will do that."

"Alright," the officer says.  "It's probably best to get along now if you're feeling up to it."

"I'm feeling much better," I say, trying to look serious while cum is dripping down my breasts underneath my shirt.

He turns to walk away, then pauses.  "Try those ginger candies," he says.  "My wife used to use those a lot when she was pregnant.  They settle the stomach."

"Yes, sir," I say.

As soon as he's out of earshot, a giggle erupts from my throat.

"I know something else that settles the stomach," Caulter says.

I slap him on the arm, but I can't stop laughing.  "You'd better not say your cock in my mouth.  Shit, we almost got charged with public indecency or something, Caulter!"

Caulter shrugs.  "I can't help it if you're a filthy girl."

"Shut up," I say.  "You got us into this."

"You called me your husband back there."

I realize I called him my husband without even thinking about it.

The thought warms me inside.

CHAPTER SIX

CAULTER

We pull into the driveway of the Senator's lake house.  We've been back here more frequently since we moved to Boston.  Kate and her father patched things up, mostly.  He's been on better behavior, mostly.  He was a total asshole for so long, I still call him Senator Douchebag in private, even though Kate glares at me when I do it.

At least I try not to call him that in public.

We've been back here to visit, on weekends here or there, and Kate makes it a point to visit her mother's grave every year.

I get the same feeling of nostalgia whenever we come here. 

This will be the first time we've been back here at the lake house for longer than a weekend.  This is where Kate wanted to have the wedding, since she has so much history here.

We
have so much history here.

I reach for Kate's hand and give it a squeeze, and she looks at me with a radiant smile.  I love the flush on her cheeks that lingers for hours after orgasm, the glow she has that's a reminder of what happened between us.

"You're thinking of all the naughty things we did in this place," she says.

I don't hold back my laugh.  "I actually wasn't," I say.  "But now that you bring it up…"

"Keep your dick in your pants,
husband
," she says.  "Rose already saw that we're here."

The housekeeper is walking toward us, and Kate opens the passenger side door and slides out of the car before Rose reaches us.  Rose has always been important to Kate.  After Kate's mother died, Rose was a maternal figure for Kate.  She needed someone like that in her life, especially since the Senator's parenting plan seemed to be to ship Kate off to boarding school and be done with her, wiping his hands free of any actual parental duties.

Of course, if he hadn't done things that way, I wouldn't have met Kate.  Sometimes bad shit does have a silver lining.

"Kate!" Rose says warmly, her arms outstretched.  She only lets Kate hug her for a second before she pulls her away to look at her.  "Oh, you look more and more like your mother every day.  Eight months, right?"

"Thirty-four weeks," Kate says.

Rose tsk-tsks her.  "You're cutting it close with the wedding," she scolds.  "And you're carrying low."

"What does that mean?" I interrupt, as Rose puts her arms around me.

"The baby gets lower, the closer you get to full term.  Now, come inside," she says. "It's cold out here.  I made Christmas cookies."

Wait.  Was she hinting that Kate might have the baby early?

I don't get the chance to ask before they're off, chitchatting and laughing as they walk toward the house.  I pull our suitcases and wedding attire, wrapped in plastic, from the car, being extra careful not to drag it on the ground

I'm also careful not to look at the dress.  Kate insists we have to adhere to tradition, which means I can't see the dress before the wedding.  She actually proposed that we might not have sex the month prior to the wedding, but collapsed into giggles at that ludicrous idea before she finished the suggestion.

Was Rose right?  Kate's obstetrician was one of the best in Boston, and he'd approved of our travel to New Hampshire. 
"Go," he said.  "Get married."
  Like it was no big deal.

Now, I'm internally panicking.  We considered about having the wedding earlier, but Kate was wrapped up in completing a series of paintings for an exhibition and she didn't want to be distracted from the wedding.

Besides, the idea of a winter wedding was romantic.

We thought we'd have plenty of time, since she wouldn't be due until forty weeks.  Kate assured me that a first baby never came early, and the obstetrician echoed that sentiment.

I make a mental note to call the obstetrician first thing in the morning.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Kate says when I come inside with the luggage.

"I'm fine," I say.  Okay, I lie.  I'm not fine at all.  As much as I've been trying to do stuff to get ready for the baby – Daddy Boot Camp, the whole nine yards – the thought of being responsible for caring for another human being does scare me slightly.

And the thought of that human being arriving early, or medical complications with Kate or the baby, or shit…the thousand things that could possibly go wrong… is terrifying.

"Cookies," Rose says, handing a plate to Kate.  "Go sit."

"I can stand, Rose," Kate says.  "I'm pregnant, not bed-ridden."

"Don't sass me, Katherine Harrison," the housekeeper says, her back to us already.  "Your father is in the office with Ella.  I'll go get them."

"What?" I ask.  "Ella is here?"

Kate wrinkles her brow.  "I thought she wasn't coming until later this week."

"You know Ella," I whisper.  "She's a free spirit."

"I can feel my ears burning," Ella says, striding into the living room, her long sweater rippling behind her like a cape.  "What were you saying about me?"

I hug her, before she moves me aside, kissing Kate on the cheek.  "How are you, darling?  What do you need?  Are you feeling okay?  How's the sonogram looking?"  Ella looks at me.  "Why aren't you massaging Kate's feet?  The mother of my grandchild should be pampered."

"Yeah, Caulter," Kate says, smirking.  "
Pampered
."

"I pamper her," I say.  "I pampered her this afternoon, even."

I get a perverse sense of satisfaction when a blush rises to Kate's cheeks.

"The two of you," Ella says, shaking her head.

"Hi, dad," Kate says, changing the subject quickly away from our sex life.

The Senator hugs her.  "How is everything?" he asks.  "What do you need?  How are you feeling?"

Kate laughs.  "Seriously, you guys," she says.  "I'm fine.  Everything is absolutely fine."

"How far along are you now?" Ella asks.

"Thirty four weeks."

Ella shakes her head.  "You have to keep your stress level down," she says.  "Planning a wedding so close to the due date is going to send your stress level through the roof."

"Ella," I warn, and Kate puts her hand on my arm.

"I'm just trying to help!" Ella protests.  "I was going to suggest my wedding planner.  She's fantastic, and I can pull her on short notice, I'm sure.  With the publicity from my television show right now, any planner would jump at the chance to do your wedding.  My planner has done…let's see…about five weddings for me."

"And a lot more engagement parties," I can't help but add.

Kate slaps me on the arm, but Ella just laughs.  "And…
seven
engagement parties," she says.  "That's not terrible.  Is it terrible?"

The Senator clears his throat.  "Ours was one of the weddings," he says, his face impassive.

Ella turns and puts her hand gently on his arm, beaming at him, and his expression softens when he looks at her.  "That was my favorite wedding of them all."

Kate looks at me, mouthing "what the fuck?"

I think the last time Ella and the Senator were together, Ella was throwing a vase at his head.  She's always been chilly when I've mentioned the Senator, and now suddenly they're cozy?

Senator Harrison puts his hand over hers.  "It wasn't so bad," he says.  "Other than…"

"Our scandal?" I ask.

My voice interrupts whatever the hell that little moment was between them, and Ella moves her hand like she was just shocked by electricity.  "Oh, that's old news," she says.  "No one's even interested in that anymore.  Now, you go unpack, Caulter.  Kate, I want to hear all about the wedding plans."

The Senator raises his eyebrows at me.  "This seems like our cue to leave, Caulter," he says.  "I have a couple of nice cigars and a bottle of Scotch in the office."

What the hell?  The Senator has been cordial with me the past year or so, but we're definitely not best friends.  I've never smoked cigars or drunk scotch in his office.  We don't hang out.  All the friendliness radiating from the Senator and Ella is weirding me the fuck out.

"Scotch and cigars sound perfect," I say, glancing at Kate.  She winks at me from the sofa and gives me a little "go away" gesture with her hands, as Ella begins to pepper her with questions, demanding Kate model her wedding dress.

I get out of there as quickly as possible, before I'm sucked into hours of conversation about floral arrangements or seating.

***

"Did you have fun with my father?" Kate asks, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.  She's freshly scrubbed, her cheeks flushed pink, damp brown hair piled on the top of her head.  She's wearing a pair of flannel pajama pants and a thin tank top made of material so thin it barely covers her breasts, her nipples on full display under the fabric.  It's dressed down and comfortable, and...sexy as hell.

I walk up behind her and pull her against my hardness.  "He's not my favorite person in the world, but yes, it was fine."

She turns her head slightly, and I press my lips against her neck, breathing in deeply her scent.  She squirms when I kiss her neck, goose bumps dotting her arms almost immediately to my touch.  "Talking about my father turns you on?" she asks.

"Seeing you in that little tank top turns me on," I say.  "How was Ella?  Did she behave herself?"

Kate sighs.  "She wants her wedding planner to come in and help," she says.  "I mean the wedding planner would be kind of nice.  Everything is really all planned, but the last minute stuff adds up.  She says it would ease my stress."

"Are you stressed?" I ask, my hands on her belly, meandering up to her chest.

She moans when I touch her breasts.  "They're so sore now," she says.

"You know, a massage is great for stress relief," I say, cupping her breasts in my hands.  They're heavier, so much more swollen than during the first part of the pregnancy, and completely arousing.

"By massage, you mean 'sex,' right?" she says, laughing.  But her voice hitches at the end.

"I mean a full-body rubdown," I tell her.  "I promise to spend extra time on your breasts."

Kate laughs.  "You know I might fall asleep if you do that."

During the last trimester, Kate has been so tired she's practically narcoleptic.  I swear the woman can nod off standing up now.  She fell asleep during our meeting with the minister officiating the wedding – snored too, right in his office.

"I'm definitely aware of that," I say.  "Strip.  I require nudity for my massages.  I promise, no funny business.  I won't even try to hump your leg."

Kate laughs, but she's naked and lying on the bed before I've even taken off my shirt.  I make good on my word, too, rubbing her back as she lies naked on her side, her leg slung over her giant pregnancy pillow.  It's big enough to be a third person in bed, so we call him Bob.  Bob the pillow.

I think she might be more fond of him than me.

"What Rose said earlier, about the baby being low," I say.  "You don't think the baby will come early, do you?"

"Huh-uh," she murmurs, moaning when I rub her neck.  "We're totally okay.  Rose is superstitious."

"I'm going to call the obstetrician just to check," I say.

"He already cleared us," she says softly, as I pull her up to a sitting position, and then back against me, my legs wrapped around her.  She lies back on my chest, and the moans she lets out when I bring my hands to her breasts is practically painful.

"Am I hurting you?" I ask.

"No," she says.  "Oh God, don't stop."

My cock immediately springs to life, hard against the small of her back.  "Does that feel good?" I ask, cupping her breasts in my hands, squeezing and massaging them as gently as I can.

"It feels amazing," she says, her head against my chest.  She doesn't say anything for a few minutes, then speaks out of the blue.  "Are you nervous?"

"Of course not," I tell her.  "I have no doubts about the wedding or you.  We talked about this earlier."

"That's not what I mean," she says.  "Are you nervous about being a father?"

Did I just internally panic when Rosa hinted that the baby might come early?  Yes

"No," I start.  "Okay, a little.  I've never been around babies.  What if we can't change his diaper?  Or we drop him?"

Kate laughs, the sound melodic and certain.  She's suddenly the epitome of calm, a hundred and eighty degree turn from earlier when we were driving.  "We'll figure it out," she says, her breath slow and regular, her chest rising and falling under my hands.  "Wait.  Do you think it's a boy?"

"I don't know," I tell her, my fingertips lightly brushing over her nipples, already hard.

Kate groans.  "I think you'd better stop doing that," she whispers.

"Oh yeah," I say, feeling like an idiot.  "Stimulates labor.  Shit."

Kate laughs.  "I meant because you're making me wet," she says.  "They're so sensitive."

"Oh.  Well in that case…" I give her breasts another squeeze, careful to keep my fingers away from her nipples.