A Very Dirty Wedding (27 page)

Just in case.  New father anxiety and all.

Then I slip my fingers between her legs.  "You are very wet."

"From all that touching," Kate says.  She turns her head to look at me out of the corner of her eye, tucking an errant lock of hair behind her ear.  It's the same gesture she used to make when I first met her.  She wore that uniform, the same Brighton Academy uniform everyone else wore, but she didn't look like everyone else.  Somehow that uniform was the sexiest thing I'd ever seen when she was wearing it.

I spent many nights thinking about Kate and that uniform.

I sit up, kissing the side of her neck, listening to her breath get shorter as she is more turned on.  When I pull her down onto my lap, she glides easily on the length of my bare cock, making a satisfied sound once I'm inside.  I pull her against my, my hands on her breasts, and let her rock gently on me.  She likes it slow at first, and then harder, but I remind myself to be careful with her.

"Caulter," she whispers.

"God, you feel fucking fantastic," I say into her ear, my voice low.  I pull her tighter against me, my lips trailing down the top of her shoulder, my teeth dragging across her skin the way she likes.

"You realize…" Her voice drifts off, replaced by a soft moan when she rocks onto me deeply.

"Yes…"

"We're in my old room," she whispers.

"I know."  That is something I definitely noticed.  Even now, the thought makes my cock jump, as memories of that summer flooding my head.

"I felt that," Kate whispers, riding me faster now, her back arched and her hips pressing down.  The bed makes a little squeaking sound and she pauses.  Her not moving is excruciating.  "The bed is squeaking, Caulter.  Did it squeak on us that summer?"

"I can't remember," I say.  "It's a miracle we weren't caught if it was making this much noise back then."

"Are you thinking about that summer?" she asks.  She rides me faster, as if she's remembering one of the times we very nearly got caught in this house.

"I'm thinking about how wet you are right now," I say, slapping the fleshy part of her ass lightly as she brings herself down on me.

"Liar," she says, tightening her pussy muscles around me on purpose.  I reach around her and squeeze her breasts.

Turnabout is fair play.

Her breath becomes shallower, and she presses herself hard against me, the tip of my cock against her inside.  Then she grinds slowly against me.

"What memory are you thinking of?" I whisper, my lips close to her ear.  "What was your favorite?"

She moans softly.  "The hallway," she whispers.

The hallway.

I push against her, my momentum matching hers.  The hallway was dirty.  It was filthy.  "Tell me," I say, forcing myself to not picture the morning of the Senator's photo opportunity pancake breakfast.  Or the way I pressed Kate's hands above her head, holding her palms against the door frame as I flicked open the button of her pants.  "What did I do in the hallway, again?"

She whimpers as she rides me faster now, the bed squeaking louder but we both pretending we don't hear it.  "You slid your fingers down my panties," she whispers softly, "While our parents were right downstairs.  Anyone could have looked upstairs and seen us."

"Is that what you like, Kate?" I ask, even though I already know it's true.  It's not the being-seen part that turns her on; it's the fear of getting caught.  She likes the thrill of doing something naughty and the potential of being discovered.

"Yes," she moans.  Her pussy is so swollen around me, tightening even more as she gets closer, that I have to concentrate on not coming inside her right this very second.

"Tell me, Princess," I say.  "Did you like my fingers inside you, bringing you to the edge of orgasm even though you despised me?"

"Oh God, yes," she says, her voice louder.  She clasps her hand over her mouth.  "I hated you.  You were so arrogant, so cocky, reaching your hands into my panties like I wanted you."

"I heard you call out my name that summer," I say, my movements faster.  Kate rides me with abandon, moving up and down on my cock, giving me a perfect view of her gorgeous round ass.  I slap her ass cheek again, then spread them to push a fingertip against that perfect pink puckered asshole.  "You masturbated while you thought about me."

"You fingered me," she says, her words punctuated by short breaths.  I think about the expression on her face back then as I rolled my finger over her clit, about the way she couldn't help but let out a moan when I slid my finger inside her.

"I'd never felt anything better," I say.

"Oh, fuck, Caulter," she moans, her muscles tightening harder around me.  "I'm going to come."

"And then I licked my fingers," I tell her.  "Because I wanted to taste you."

She comes.  She clasps her hands over her mouth, trying to stifle the sound, and I let go, my orgasm so strong it's nearly blinding as she continues to ride me until she's satisfied.

And then we come crashing down.

Literally.

The fucking bed breaks.  The footboard actually falls off the end of the bed, and the bed pitches forward, dropping to the floor with a jolt.

"Shit," I say, pulling Kate against me.  "Are you okay?  That didn't hurt you, did it?"

"Yes," she says, and for a second I think she's crying but she's not.

She's laughing.  She's laughing hysterically, while I'm still inside her, her movements sending vibrations through me.  "Shit, Caulter, we broke the bed," she says, nearly a shriek.  "Oh my God, why do we break things in this house?"

Then I hear footsteps rushing toward the door, and thank God I have the presence of mind to grab the blanket covering the bed and yank it up to our necks.  Because the very next second, the door flings open and the three of them – Ella, Senator Harrison, and Rose – rush inside.

Kate is nearly hysterical, brushing away tears.

And I'm still inside her, even if the sheets cover us.  I'm still inside her as the three of them look at us in horror.

"Oh my God," Ella says.  "I'd say get a room but you kids obviously already have."

Rose puts her hand over her chest.  "We thought you had an accident.  Or something.  Obviously
something
."  She shakes her head, turning and darting quickly down the hallway.

Senator Harrison averts his eyes, his hand near his face, mumbling something about locking the door and getting furniture that can withstand abuse.  The word
abuse
sends Kate into another peal of laughter, while the Senator and Ella make swift exits.

"Are you sure you're okay?" I ask.

"We broke the fucking bed," she says.  "The ladder in the library that summer, and now the bed."

"See?  You were worried things would change, Princess," I say.  "Nothing's changed at all."

CHAPTER SEVEN

KATE

The past few days have been a whirlwind of wedding-related activity.  I don't know why I decided to do all of this myself while pregnant.  I didn't even hire a wedding planner, insisting I wanted to take care of all of the details.

I think I might have been delusional.  Pregnancy brain is totally a thing.

"I can't believe you've been doing this legwork yourself, Kate," Ella says as she slips her arm around my shoulder.  "I can't believe my son has been
letting
you do all of this work."

I'm sitting on a barstool in the kitchen, picking at the sides of a cinnamon roll, freshly baked from scratch, Rose's specialty.  Rose stands with her back turned to us, stirring something in a pot that smells delicious, and my stomach growls.  I pop another bite in my mouth.

"I tried to help her," Caulter insists.  "Tell her she can't control everything."

"What?" I squeak and glare at him.  "I'm not trying to control everything.  Well,
some
things.  I was doing fine with it all by myself.  It's only two hundred guests.  We're keeping it small, low key."

Ella shakes her head.  "Let me fly in my wedding planner."

"Your wedding planner isn't going to just jump on a plane out here," I say.

"We'll see about that," Ella says, texting on her phone.

But my resolve is weakening.  I'm definitely tired.  "The tent rental company just called to let me know there had been a mistake," I admit, exhaling heavily.  "One of their employees made a scheduling error and now we have no tent and no heaters.  So everyone who's coming to attend a wedding on Christmas Eve day, when they'd probably rather be out shopping or doing their own holiday traditions, are out in the cold.  Literally."

All of the words come rushing out, and when I'm finished I take a deep breath of air.  Ella and Caulter are staring at me.  "So maybe some help would be nice," I say.

Ella smiles and holds up her phone.  "Rebecca will be here tomorrow."

"Just like that?" I ask, in disbelief.  Scheduling an appointment to taste cakes took more advance notice than that just did.

"Now," Ella says.  "That's settled.  Rebecca is fabulous at pulling things together at the last minute.  Don't worry about the tent.  I'll text her and let her know what happened.  She'll work her magic; trust me.  Oh, and another thing -- I've moved my things into one of the bedrooms upstairs.  You two should have the guesthouse."

I feel heat rise to my cheeks and wonder if they're as red as I think they are.  "Are we being banished?"

Caulter snorts.

Ella sips her whatever-the-hell green drink she's drinking, her eyes twinkling. "Not banished," she says.  "There's simply more space out there for the two of you.  It's more private."

Rose's back is still turned to us, and she's notably quiet.  She's stirred that pot of soup so many times I think it might actually be pureed by now.

I also think I might actually dissolve into the floor.  To have my father and Ella and Rose all catch Caulter and I after we broke my childhood bed?

Totally mortifying.

But Caulter laughs.  "Has the guest house been soundproofed?"

"Caulter!" I say.

Rose finally turns, a wooden spoon in her hand and her eyebrow arched.  "I seem to remember a library ladder that was mysteriously broken a few years ago," she says.

Ella's eyes go wide.  "A ladder!" she says.  "You know, there's a lovely library scene in the movie I'm doing.  It's about an older woman who seduces a younger –"

"Stop, stop.  That's enough.  I'm not listening to my mother talk about seducing a younger man," Caulter says, giving me "that look," the universal sign for 'let's-get-the-hell-out-of-here'. 

"I'm not talking about seducing a younger man," Ella says.  "It's a role.  But you've given me some ideas about how a ladder could work.  Now, were you holding her against the ladder or was she bent over --"

"Are you actually asking about our sex positions, Ella?" Caulter asks.

"Has the kitchen become the place to gather now?" My father's voice booms from behind us as he walks into the room, and I slide off the chair, taking this as my cue to leave.  "What have I missed?"

"Nothing!" Caulter and I blurt out at the same time.

"We were just leaving," Caulter says.

"I was telling them about a movie I'm shooting," Ella says.  "And they were just giving me advice on this ladder lovemaking scene I'm –"

"And, we're out," Caulter says.

***

The four of us – me, Caulter, my father, and Ella -- are seated around the dining room table together for the first time since that summer.  The silence is deafening and awkward, and it brings me right back to that dinner with our parents, years ago.

“Casual,” my father says.  “Casual but...appropriate.”  He’s been droning on for the last twenty minutes, giving us a big lecture about tomorrow morning’s breakfast, the summer kick-off to his re-election campaign.  I look down at my food again, picking at my salmon even though it’s my favorite.  I'm trying to distract myself from the hell on earth I've found myself in, sitting here at the table with my father and Ella and Caulter.  Ella nods enthusiastically and beams, while Caulter sits in the chair perpendicular to me, suspiciously quiet.  He's not made a single sarcastic comment during the entire meal, and his weirdly pleasant demeanor makes me think my salmon may very well be poisoned.

Caulter nods at something my father says, as if he's had some kind of personality transplant.  Maybe he hit his head when I pushed him into the lake.  That wasn't one of my finer moments, but Caulter damn sure doesn't bring out the mature side of me.

I'm wondering what the hell he has up his sleeve, when I feel something on my calf and nearly jump out of my skin.  I catch Caulter's eye and he winks.

It's his foot.

I jerk my leg over, glaring at him.  Footsies at the table.  That's real fucking mature.

The memory makes me flush warm, especially when I think about what happened the next day, right before the pancake dinner.

“I don’t want to come on --” I start, but he plunges his fingers inside me, swiftly and without warning, as if he knows how I'm teetering on the precipice, a bundle of need and desire.  I grip his shoulders, the rational part of me screaming, Push him away – stop this before it goes any farther!  But instead, I cling to him, closing my eyes and surrendering to the pleasure that washes over me.

He strokes me, his fingers pressing against that spot inside me, doing things to me I haven't felt before…except that night in the hotel with him.  My body feels weak, like it's melting into him, and I find myself grinding against the palm of his hand, taking my pleasure from him.

“Tell me you don’t want to come on me,” he teases.  His voice is thick, filled with lust.

“Caulter,” I whisper softly.

“Yes, Princess.”

“Fucking...stop calling...me that.”

Back then, I hated the nickname he gave me.  Now, when he whispers it in my ear, his cock deep inside me, I come almost immediately.

That thought makes me hot, and I have to bring my attention back to my food to distract myself. 

Damn it.  Get yourself under control, Katherine.  This is a family dinner.

I clear my throat.  Ella is talking about the wedding.  “Your friends will be here tomorrow, is that right?”

I nod.  “Libby and Bailey will be here tomorrow night.  Caulter’s friends should be here in the afternoon, I think.”

Caulter slides his hand across my thigh under the table, and his touch is electric.  It's totally appropriate, until he moves his hand slightly, reaching between his legs.  The movement is subtle, and he looks up at Ella, his face not betraying what his fingers are doing.

“Did you have a bachelorette party, Kate?” Ella asks.  “Caulter, have you had a bachelor party?  You're supposed to do that weeks ahead of time.  That's what my wedding planner recommends."

"We have not had bachelor or bachelorette parties," I say.  "Our friends are coming from all over the place, and won't be here until right before the wedding, and I'm pregnant, so…"

Ella looks horrified.  "So you're not having parties?" she asks.  "It's traditional."

I cover my pregnant belly with my hand.  "This bride is knocked up, so this wedding is already pretty non-traditional, I think."

Ella waves her hand dismissively.  "Pish-posh," she says.  "Pregnant weddings are a thing now."

"Did you just say
pish-posh
?" Caulter asks, laughing.  "Did you suddenly become British?"

Ella ignores him.  "Who's your maid of honor?  And your best man?  The wedding planner can help make the arrangements."

“Kate wants strippers,” Caulter says.  “I told her to make sure to get a private dance.”

My father’s face reddens and he clears his throat.  “Are there male strippers in Lake Winnipesaukee?”

“I
don’t
want strippers,” I say, laughing at my father’s attempt to treat this like a serious conversation.  “Seriously, the idea of staying up past nine p.m. makes me tired just thinking about it.  And it's not like I'm going to be doing shots off some guy's abs, anyway."

“We could go to a strip club during the day,” Ella offers helpfully, spearing a piece of salmon on her fork.  “You know, I find strip clubs to be an aphrodisiac.  Tacky, but sometimes hot.”

“Really?” My father asks, his eyes fixated on Ella.  She laughs, casually brushing her hand against his forearm, and I give Caulter a look again.

Caulter makes a gagging sound and mock-vomits.  “I don’t need to hear about aphrodisiacs, Ella,” he says.  “Or my
mother
talking about going to strip clubs.”

“You know, I was doing an interview in one of those women’s magazines the other day, and the interviewer said that I’ve become somewhat of an icon for women of a certain age – that sexuality doesn’t disappear with age.  In fact, it gets even better.  I think you become more willing to try new things, and --"

“
And
, I’ve finished my dinner,” Caulter says, putting down his fork.  I snort at his obvious discomfort.  Ella has actually grown on me.  She really gets under Caulter’s skin, but I kind of like her.  And she was totally right about her wedding planner, too.  The planner was a godsend, breezing in and taking over all the minutiae that had become major annoyances for me.

“You can’t really object to this conversation after, well, what happened the other night,” my father says, pointing his fork at Caulter.

Oh my God, my father is talking about walking in on Caulter and I having sex.
  Now it’s my turn to be embarrassed.

“Could we please all just forget about that?” I ask.  Caulter looks at me and raises his eyebrows, his expression a smug that's-what-you-get-for-laughing-at-me, and I give him my best glare.

"Well, I for one am glad that you and Caulter are keeping up an active sex life during the pregnancy," Ella says.  "It's very important."

Beside me, Caulter sips his wine to cover the fact that he's about to fucking laugh, while my face feels like it's on fire.  I'm stuck sitting here totally sober, and now mortified.

It's bad enough that we broke the bed and everyone walked in on us, but do they have to keep bringing it up?

"Okay, okay," Caulter says, holding up his hands.  "Kate and my sex life is officially off-limits for dinner conversation.  Next subject."

"It's not like we're talking about sex toys at the table," Ella says.  "Really, Caulter.  Don't be such a prude."