My Big Fat Fake Wedding(58)

But instead, he pulls back, a smirk on his face as he nods and heads over to the toilet cubicle, closing the frosted glass door behind him. It’s a nice customization and allows us to both be in the bathroom without actually having to watch anyone ‘do their business’. A little mystery is a good thing, especially when I’m not sure what side of the real-fake line we’re leaning toward.

“You know, I never really thought this would happen,” Ross says, broaching the subject while I start washing my face. “You know, us . . . sleeping together. I figured we had better odds of killing each other.”

I chuckle, though some small gash in my teenage heart heals a little bit at the longed-for recognition, and then we’re both quiet for a moment, our eyes locked on one another in the mirror as he stands behind me.

Ross laughs, and a moment later, the toilet flushes and he comes out and washes his hands. “Okay, point taken. But you’re Abi’s best friend, the same girl I taunted for years.” Seems his thoughts this morning are in line with my own. I wonder if they diverge from my wishy-washy uncertainty, though.

“That you did.”

Ross hums, then quickly bends down and literally kisses my ass. “Well, those chicken legs of yours have become finger lickin’ good!” His finger traces up the back of my thigh.

I shiver, gasping when he smacks my ass playfully. “Bastard! Do you know how much I hated that? You were the sole reason I learned how to do a proper squat and lunge. I did supersets every night for years.”

“I didn’t know that,” Ross says, stepping back, his smile fading a little. But then the teasing light comes back, though a little dimmer. “I’d say I’m sorry, but have you seen your ass? Whatever you did worked and was worth it, honey.”

I chuckle, and then we’re both quiet for a moment, our eyes locked on one another in the mirror as he stands behind me.

“I don’t regret what we did.” His voice is rough, like he’s talking over gravel.

“I don’t, either,” I reply, grabbing my toothbrush and green Colgate toothpaste. I prep my brush, then look up at him. “Look, we’ve crossed that bridge, and it was nice, ten out of ten, would ride that ride again. But I know the drill. Fake marriage, fake relationship, no strings attached. But there’s nothing wrong with us getting a little something extra out of the deal, I guess.”

“Rebel, you’re breaking your own rules,” he says, but instead of a tease, it sounds like a compliment. The way his eyes trace over the reflection of my naked body feels like a compliment too. Then he straightens, everything I just said apparently hitting him on delay. “Did you just say that last night was ‘nice’?”

I smirk, giving him a version of his own cocky grin, and nod. “Yep,” I say, popping the P.

“I’ll show you nice,” he growls, turning me to lean my ass against the cold marble and dropping to his knees.

I try to protest, really, I do. “Ross, I have to go to work. I’m going to be late.”

He looks up at me, feral and possessive. “Brush your teeth. I’ll make this pussy come before you’re even done.”

And though it was his own words, he gets to it and I can almost hear the ‘challenge accepted’ resonating in his mind.

He licks me fast and hard, fluttering his tongue over my clit as he slips two fingers inside my already wet slit. His other hand jacks himself in tempo with his thrusts. It’s the slowest toothbrushing session of my life. It’s the fastest orgasm I’ve ever had. He’s lucky I don’t choke on the toothpaste.

As I float back to Earth, white foam running down my chin, he grins at me from the V of my legs, evidence of his own orgasm on the floor beneath him. “Was that nice, Vi?”

I purse my lips. “Okay, it was better than nice. It was good.” And with a squeal, I jump up and make a run for the bedroom closet. He chases me and pins me up against the wall, handing me a towel to wipe my mouth on. “I really do have to get ready for work.”

“I know, but we deserve better than nice or good. Seems like we’ve got some work to do.”

He knows as well as I do that nothing about last night or this morning was ho-hum ‘good’. It was mind-blowing, life-altering epicness. But he’s letting me hide, letting our teasing game continue, and I appreciate that. I need that buffer for my heart to remember who he is, who I am, and that this is fake and casual.

He smacks my ass and presses a kiss to my still overly minty mouth. “Go to work, Chickie.”





*



YOU ARE LOVINGLY INVITED

Together with their families,

Ross Andrews & Violet Russo

Request the honor of your presence at the celebration of their love

At St. Luke’s Church of the Hills

Saturday, June twenty-sixth, at six in the evening

Reception To Follow





“It’s gorgeous,” I whisper as tears spring to my eyes. They’re beautiful, the same peach and white embossed paper that she bought for my wedding with Colin, but now that it’s printed out with Ross’s name next to mine, there’s a hitch in my throat.

She also added some subtle metallic glitter or something so the whole thing feels dreamy.

“How did you do that?” I ask, tilting the paper one way and then another.