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I know I’ll be sore when he’s done with me, and I don’t care. It’ll be a nice reminder when I’m lying in my bed alone tonight instead of on the honeymoon that Kenneth and I planned.
I hiccup a cry as I begin to cum, and Marco presses his lips to mine, swallowing the scream that he knows I’m famous for. He always makes me scream. God, how I miss those screams and how I miss him.
He’s not far behind me. I feel his arousal grow inside of me. Then I feel it pulsating before he slumps against me where he’s got me pinned to the wall.
Our breathing is ragged as I smile at him, and he dips his head again to kiss me. When he slides out of me, I reach up and wipe my lipstick from his lips.
I hear my mother pounding at the door, saying that we’ve been here long enough and that it doesn’t look nice.
“Look at you. Giving your mother a heart attack on your wedding day,” he jokes, removing the condom with a tissue that he’s swiped from the dressing table while stashing something else in one of his pockets.
Marco balls it up and tosses it in the trash while I adjust my dress.
“No, that would be you. Showing up here today of all days. What’s wrong with you?” I teasingly admonish him.
I grab a tissue from the same box and rub his lips vigorously.
“What’s wrong with me? You’re about to walk down the aisle to another man with my cum all inside of you.”
“It’s not inside me. It’s in that damn condom in the can.”
Shrugging, he says, “It burst.”
“Marco!” I shriek.
He laughs and shakes his head. I now know that he’s playing. He was the only one that could ever get me that way.
“You don’t love that man?”
“I did, or I think I did, as much as I could love anyone whose name isn’t Marco DeLuca,” I say honestly.
“Why did you let me do that to you?”
“I told you. I love you. Any part of you I can have is more than enough, Marco,” I say softly.
He tears his gaze away from me.
“We need to talk. Can we talk before the wedding? I need another ten minutes.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“I have to be downstairs soon. We can talk afterward.”
“It’ll be too late, Piper. You’ll be married and—”
“I have to go,” I say.
“Please don’t go, Piper. Can I have five minutes?”
“No, not right now. I have to go before they carry my mom out on a stretcher,” I reply, opening the door as my mother rushes in with the coordinator and a smirking Rashida.
The coordinator shoos Marco out into the hallway, and though he doesn’t want to, he allows the little five-foot-one coordinator to bully him out of the room.
Mom sniffs the air and looks around with a scrunched nose.
“What’s that I smell?” Mom asks. “Piper Juliette Chambers! Did you have sex with that man? I smell sex in the air!” she gasps horrifiedly.
