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When we finally come up for air, panting together, she smiles. “I told you not to mess up my makeup.”
“I never listen.”
Pulling back, she laughs when she sees my lipstick-covered mouth. Then, she drags me upstairs and wipes my face clean with a soft wet cloth. The whole time I don’t say a word, even as I watch her fix her own, meticulously reapplying the red color. It’s sexy as fuck.
Call it reckless, but I am excited for tonight. Maybe I should think this through more, but at the end of the day, I trust her, and I’m more than willing to throw caution to the wind and put everything in her hands. I can’t get over how good that feels, letting her have control. Especially since she wants it. And not just during sex, but for my entire future.
The pressure of having to decide what to do with my life has just evaporated. All of that weight is just gone. Putting my trust in her is liberating.
“Ready?” she asks as she throws her red lipstick in her tiny purse.
With a deep sigh, I nod. “Lead the way.”
Rule #32: When an opportunity arises, don’t miss it.
Maggie
The entire day is a blur. The moment we get to the venue, it’s a frenzy ofstand here,where’s the bouquet,fix my makeup,is the officiant ready,someone get Charlie a shot. I’m too busy running around being helpful that I hardly get a free moment to admire how handsome Beau looks in that tux.
I also notice for the first time just how much he looks like Emerson, especially as they wear the same tux and stand next to each other. That’s something I’m going to have to unpack later. I’ve certainly never been attracted to Emerson. He’s handsome, sure. But I never wanted to drag him into the bathroom and drop down to my knees for him like I do his son.
Geez, Maggie. Did you seriously just think that?
We’re standing in the staging area as Beau saunters toward me to stand by my side, giving me one of those private looks before putting out his elbow for me to wrap my arm through. The moment I can touch him, I’m comfortable.
I never understood the idea ofyour personuntil now. That one other person who can make you feel comfortable, at peace, loved, and appreciated all at the same time. This whole time I thought my friends were crazy, but now I get it. Charlie is Emerson’s person.
Beau is mine.
It feels as if we blink and we’re suddenly walking down the aisle to the string quartet playing at the back of the garden. After Hunter and Isabel make their way down, Beau and I walk casually together. People smile at us from their seats, and I do my best to keep myself composed. Oh, if they only knew.
When I catch Charlie’s cousin gazing a little too long at Beau, I clutch him a little closer,mineechoing in my mind. If I could scream it right here, I would. Is it stupid to imagine that someday I might be able to? If Beau even wants me for that long. And if I get over the fear of telling his father about us.
When we reach the front, we separate. He takes his place across the aisle, wedged between Garrett and Hunter. As the officiant starts the wedding, going through the sappy quotes and all that, I silently start to wonder how the hell we got here. How is the man I’ve been sleeping with for the past two months Emerson’s bratty, self-centered, ill-tempered son?
As Emerson and Charlie say their vows, my eyes find Beau’s and I smile as I realize he’s already looking at me. Our gazes meet for a long, charged glance. Everyone’s looking at the bride and groom anyway.
So for one quiet moment, I let myself exist in his eyes. And I’m struck by how much it feels likeus, even if we’re around everyone else. My house has become our private place, the only space I feel genuinely happy anymore, and to find that same feeling exists, when I can freely stare into his eyes, is like heaven.
When I feel another pair of eyes on me, I glance next to him to see Hunter watching me, subtle curiosity on his face, and I quickly glance away, my blood pressure starting to spike. God, did he pick up on any of that? It’s weird for me to be staring at Beau that way.
I quickly swallow down my paranoia and make a mental note to avoid talking to Hunter alone anytime soon.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the officiant announces as the small crowd cheers. “You may now kiss your bride.”
This time, I do look at Beau, because no matter how much he’s grown to accept this awkward situation, watching your dad kiss your ex still has to feel weird. His eyes widen as he stares back at me because his dad isn’t just kissing his ex…he’s fully making out with her in front of everyone. I let out a little laugh, trying to hide it behind my bouquet.
Beside me, Mia makes a loudwoo-hooyell, and the crowd’s cheers grow louder.
* * *
After the ceremony,we head to Emerson’s house, where he is hosting a small reception in the backyard. Beau is standing with Sophie near the edge of the party, while I’m stuck in conversation with Ronan Kade, the club’s wealthiest member, Garrett, Mia, and Fitz. Nearly every regular and major club employee is here tonight, which means the club is in the hands of our floor managers and most trustworthy staff. It’s an all hands-on deck sort of evening, which makes me nervous about smuggling the groom’s son in unnoticed.
My plan is to bring him in the back, since there are no security guards at the employee entrance. From there, we’ll go straight to the room. I personally blocked out room twenty-three tonight, a VIP room on the second floor that I think will be the most comfortable for Beau. It has a low platform bed with bedding nicer than what’s in my house. There’s something masculine about the room that I love. Dark gray bedding, a mix of sandalwood and sage oils in the diffuser, special lubricants specifically for first-timers, and the best aftercare station our club has to offer. It’s been unofficially donned thefirst-timers’ room, and from what I can tell, that’s what it’s been used for. Not first-timers in the sense of losing your virginity—as far as I know, that honor belongs only to Mia. But first-timers for anything, really, but mostly, first time trying anal.
And this is the only reason I’m doing this at the club and not at home. I have more confidence at the club. I feel more comfortable there, and tonight, I need all the comfort and confidence I can get. I’m not worried about hurting him. I trust him to communicate with me enough before that happens.
Iamworried about losing him. This could very well be too much for him. This could be the wake-up call, the moment he realizes we’ve passed his kink-tolerance threshold, and pegging is just a littletoofar out of the realm of vanilla, where he’s spent all of his life.
