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“It’s very rustic,” she said, peering out the window.
That made me laugh. Bella was polite, always. She had a gift of putting a positive spin on the world’s crappiest situation. I guess that made her an optimist. “That’s one way to put it.”
I got out of the car and went around and opened the door for her. I held out my hand. She took it and attempted to push herself out of the car. I was about to give her a firm tug because all that fabric seemed to be holding her in place, then thought better of it. I eyed her shoes dubiously. “You might want to take those off,” I said, pointing to them. They were covered in rhinestones or diamonds or whatever the fuck, and had a very high heel. We were on a dirt driveway. I had visions of her taking a facer and me having to drive her to the emergency room.
Bella hiked her skirt up, displaying long, tan, shimmery legs. She had some kind of lotion on her that had every inch of skin sparkling from ankle to thigh. Like she had been dipped in gold powder. I wondered how high up that glitter went. My mouth went dry as she bent over to slip off her shoe. Her bronze legs were on display, and now so were the swells of her breasts, pushing up and out of the top of her gown. What kind of a fucked-up fantasy was I having that I actually liked that she was in a wedding dress? Kiss the bride and all that shit, without having to put a ring on her finger. Man, I was a bastard.
But I was what I was. I had been raised with a secret even my siblings didn’t know and I had a skewed perspective on relationships, marriage in particular.
At the moment I was completely turned on by Bella the bride.
“All set?” I asked.
She raised her head, flipping her hair back off her face. I had a vision of those perfect curls surrounding me as she sucked my cock. I remembered the advice of my favorite uncle. Never look down on someone unless they’re giving you head. I needed to totally give up my attitude about her being a rich girl. Bella seemed to have a good heart. Better than me.
“Come here, princess,” I murmured. “Let me help you stand up.”
I hoped she didn’t stop and think about the irony of this being her wedding night.
Then again, there was something so fucking perfect about that.
I couldn’t wait to see what sexy lingerie she had on under those layers of white virginal fabric.
