Wedding Ruin: Part 2

The suite was dark except for the city light filtering through the sheer curtains.

Ethan closed the door behind us and the lock clicked with a soft, final sound. The muffled bass of the reception rose through the floor—music, voices, the distant clink of glasses. My sister was down there in her white dress, smiling for photographs, while I stood in her bridal suite with the best man and already knew I wasn’t going to stop.

He didn’t give me time to second-guess it.

Ethan turned me, backed me against the wall beside the door, and kissed me like he had been thinking about it since the rehearsal dinner. His mouth was hot, insistent. I opened for him with a soft sound and his tongue slid against mine at the same time his hands found my waist, then the zipper at the back of my dress. He dragged it down in one slow pull. The deep green fabric loosened and slipped off my shoulders. I felt it pool at my feet.

Underneath I wore a black strapless bra and matching panties I had chosen that morning without examining why. Ethan pulled back just enough to look at me. His eyes moved over my body in the dim light, unhurried and hungry.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “Better than I pictured.”

He kissed me again, harder, and walked me backward toward the large bed that still had the decorative rose petals scattered across the white duvet. The backs of my knees hit the mattress. I sat. He followed, pushing me down until I was stretched beneath him. His jacket was already gone. I worked at the buttons of his shirt with unsteady fingers while he unhooked my bra and tossed it aside.

When his mouth closed over my nipple I arched up with a quiet gasp. He sucked hard enough to sting, then soothed the spot with his tongue before moving to the other side. One of his hands slid down my stomach and into my panties. He found me already wet. Two fingers stroked through the slickness and a rough sound left his throat.

“Been like this all night?” he asked against my skin.

“Since you put your hand on my waist during that dance.”

He pushed the panties down my legs. I kicked them off. Then he was standing just long enough to open his belt and shove his trousers and boxers down. His cock sprang free, thick and hard. I reached for it without thinking, wrapping my hand around the hot length and stroking once. Ethan’s hips jerked. He let me touch him for only a few seconds before he caught my wrist and pinned it to the mattress.

“Later,” he said. “I’ve waited too long to be patient.”

He settled between my thighs, rubbed the head of his cock through my wetness once, twice, and then pushed in.

The stretch pulled a broken sound from my chest. He filled me in one steady thrust until his hips sat flush against mine. For a moment we both stayed still, breathing hard, the distant music of the reception thumping under us like a reminder of everything we were risking.

Then he started to move.

Deep, powerful strokes that made the bed frame creak softly. I wrapped my legs around his waist and met every one of them. The angle was perfect—each thrust dragged against the place inside me that made my vision blur. Ethan braced himself on one forearm and used the other hand to pin both of my wrists above my head. The control in the gesture sent a fresh wave of heat through me.

“Quiet,” he murmured against my mouth. “Sound carries.”

I nodded and bit my lip, trying to keep the soft, helpless noises in my throat. He fucked me harder anyway, like he wanted to pull them out of me. The wet sound of him sliding in and out of my body filled the suite. Rose petals shifted under my bare back. Somewhere far below, people laughed and glasses clinked and my sister celebrated the first hours of her marriage.

Ethan released my wrists only long enough to hook one of my legs higher over his arm. The new angle let him drive even deeper. A sharper cry escaped before I could stop it. He covered my mouth with his hand and kept thrusting, eyes locked on mine, the muscles in his arm flexing with every movement.

“You’re going to come for me,” he said, voice low and strained. “Right here in your sister’s bed. And you’re going to do it quietly.”

The words pushed me over the edge.

I came hard, thighs shaking, cry muffled against his palm, body clamping down around his cock in strong, rhythmic pulses. He groaned and fucked me through it, never slowing, drawing the orgasm out until I was trembling and oversensitive beneath him.

Only then did he let himself follow. He buried himself deep and came with a low, broken sound against my neck, hips jerking as he spilled into me in thick, hot pulses. I felt every one of them. The sensation set off another smaller wave of pleasure that left me soft and pliant under his weight.

For a long moment neither of us moved. The only sounds were our uneven breathing and the distant, ongoing party below. Ethan eventually lifted his head and looked down at me. His expression was dark with residual heat and something that looked a lot like the same recklessness I felt.

He pulled out carefully. I felt the slow slide of his come leaving me and dampening the duvet. Neither of us commented on the lack of a condom. It was too late for that conversation and we both knew it.

Ethan sat back on his heels, still half-dressed, and watched me stretch out on the ruined bedspread. My dress was in a green pool on the floor. My bra and panties were somewhere near the foot of the bed. I was naked, flushed, and clearly freshly fucked in the middle of my sister’s bridal suite.

“We should get back,” I said, though my voice lacked conviction.

“In a minute.”

He reached down and dragged two fingers through the mess he had left between my thighs, slow and deliberate, then brought them to my mouth. I opened without being told. The taste of us made my stomach tighten all over again.

Ethan’s eyes stayed on mine while I cleaned his fingers.

“One more time before we go,” he said quietly. “On your knees this time. I want to see that dress around your waist while I fuck you from behind.”

My pulse thudded hard between my legs that were still trembling.

Outside the suite, the reception continued without us. Music. Toasts. The ordinary progression of a wedding night.

Inside, I rolled onto my hands and knees the way he wanted, green dress still crumpled on the floor, and looked back at him over my shoulder.

“Hurry,” I whispered. “Before someone notices we’re both gone.”

His hands settled on my hips, grip firm, and he pushed back into me in one smooth thrust that stole the rest of my argument.

We were already long past five minutes.

Neither of us cared.