伴娘

The wedding cake was a disaster. Three tiers of white fondant, and the top one was listing like a drunk sailor. I was staring at it, trying not to laugh, when I felt a hand on the small of my back.

"Don't even think about it," a voice said, low and warm. "I saw you eyeing that cake. You're not going to fix it."

I turned. He was tall, dark-haired, with a sharp jaw and eyes that were doing something very unfair to my insides. "I wasn't going to fix it. I was going to push it off the table and watch it splatter."

"Jesus." He grinned. "You're the maid of honor?"

"Lena. And you're...?"

"Marco. Groom's cousin." He tilted his head, his gaze dropping to my lips for a split second. "You look like you need a drink."

The tent was buzzing with drunk uncles and aunts doing the electric slide. I didn't want a drink. I wanted to get out of this dress, and I had a feeling he wanted to help me with that. The thought made my skin prickle.

"I need air," I said.

He followed me out into the cool night, past the string lights and the laughing bridesmaids. The garden was dark, the grass damp under my heels. We stopped behind a hedge of hydrangeas. The music was a distant thump.

"So," he said, leaning against a tree. "You're not going to fix the cake."

"Fuck the cake."

He laughed, and then his hands were on my waist, pulling me into him. His mouth found mine, and it wasn't soft. It was hungry, demanding, and I melted into it, my fingers gripping his shirt. He tasted like whiskey and something sweet. His tongue slid against mine, and I moaned into his mouth.

"Fuck, Lena," he breathed, his hands sliding down to cup my ass through the thin silk of my dress. "You have no idea how long I was watching you."

"Show me."

He spun me around, pressing me against the rough bark of the tree. His hands were everywhere — up my thighs, under the hem of my dress, finding the lace of my panties. He pulled them down, and I stepped out of them, my heart hammering. The night air was cool on my wet skin.

"Spread your legs," he ordered, his voice rough.

I did. I was so wet I could feel it slick on my thighs. He dropped to his knees, his hands parting me, and then his mouth was on me. His tongue found my clit, and I gasped, my head falling back against the bark.

"Oh, God..."

He licked me slowly, deliberately, then faster, his fingers sliding inside me, curling. I was trembling, my hips bucking against his face. He sucked on my clit, and I came hard, a sharp cry escaping my lips. He didn't stop, licking me through it until I was shaking.

He stood up, his face glistening. He unzipped his pants, and his cock sprang free, thick and hard. He stroked it once, twice, then guided it to my entrance.

"Look at me," he said.

I looked. His eyes were dark, intense. He pushed inside me slowly, inch by inch, and I felt myself stretch around him. I gasped, my nails digging into his shoulders.

"Fuck, you're tight."

"Don't stop."

He did stop. He pulled out almost all the way, then slammed back in. I cried out. He did it again, harder, his hands gripping my hips, pounding into me against the tree. The bark scraped my back, but I didn't care. All I felt was him, filling me, stretching me, his rhythm fast and punishing.

"Yes, right there, Marco, fuck—"

"You like that?" He was breathing hard, his forehead against mine. "You like being fucked against a tree at your friend's wedding?"

"Yes. God, yes."

He drove into me, deeper, faster, and I felt my second orgasm building, coiling tight in my belly. He reached between us, his thumb finding my clit, rubbing in circles. That was it. I shattered, crying out, my walls clenching around him.

"Fuck, Lena, I'm gonna cum..."

He pulled out abruptly, and I felt his hot cum spray across my stomach, my thighs. He groaned, his body shuddering against mine. For a moment, we just stood there, breathing hard.

Then he laughed, a low, breathless sound. "Your dress is ruined."

I looked down. White silk, now covered in streaks of cum. I started laughing too, a helpless giggle that turned into a snort. "The maid of honor, covered in come at her best friend's wedding. Classy."

He helped me pull up my panties — I didn't bother with the dress. "We should go back before someone notices."

"Let them notice."

He kissed me again, softer this time, and I felt a warm flutter in my chest. The cake could wait. The reception could wait. Right now, all I wanted was another glass of champagne and this man's hand in mine.