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Heat touches my cheeks. I look down, suddenly feeling sick.
There’s a tiny tug at my hand, and I glance up at Luke. His face is creased with concern. “Hey,” he murmurs. “You okay?”
“I feel like everyone is staring at me,” I mutter.
Luke laughs. “They’re staring at me, sweetheart.”
“Mm.” I look around the room. I recognise a few teachers from high school, and my stomach twists uncomfortably.
Luke gives me a level look, then leans in to press a kiss to my cheek. I breathe in a lungful of his aftershave and feel my heart rate slow.
I’m fine. Everything’s fine.
We sit down a few rows from the front. Zack groans as he settles into his tiny chair. “This is discrimination,” he mutters under his breath, shifting to try and get comfortable. “Not everyone’s got legs like a goddamn garden gnome.”
I pinch his side to shut him up, and he gives me a heated look, setting a heavy hand on my thigh, a little too high up to be socially acceptable. My stomach flips. The music starts, and we all stand as the officiant makes a quick speech. I try to pay attention, but I can’t focus. All I can think about is the heavy weight of the balls inside me. It feels ridiculously naughty to have them rubbing inside me while no one else knows. Zack glances at me out of the corner of his eye and smirks.
Finally, the officiant’s speech is over, and we all sit again. I squirm a little in my seat, trying to find a comfortable position as the wedding procession starts.
The groom is first. Josh’s brother, Rob, looks just like him. He’s probably not as tall, but he has the same curling dark hair and sculpted cheekbones. Unlike Josh, though, his face seems to be set in a permanent smile. His brown eyes sparkle as he looks around at the crowd, his hands jammed into his tux pockets. The wedding party steps forward next; a long row of men in dark suits and pretty girls in pastel dresses. I stare as Josh sweeps by, looking delicious in an inky black suit, a dark-haired woman on his arm.
“Amy’s sister,” Luke murmurs into my ear. I shiver as his breath tickles my loose hairs over my skin. “Maid of honour.”
“She’s pretty.”
“Mm.” He shoots me an amused look. “And happily married with three kids. If you were wondering.”
I roll my eyes, but my shoulders ease slightly.
Finally, Amy steps out into the aisle, clinging onto her father’s arm. My stomach sours when I see her. My old headmistress. She looks just the same as she did when I was a kid — the same sweet, doll-like face and pretty features. She reaches the end of the aisle, and Rob takes her hands. She smiles up at him, her eyes fixed on his face. They’re obviously sickeningly in love.
Luke shifts in his chair next to me, clearing his throat, and I reach out, putting my hand in his lap. He takes it, interlacing our fingers together. His face is tight.
On my other side, Zack gives me a wicked look. I raise an eyebrow wordlessly. He leans closer, casually sliding his hand up my knee — and then sticking it up my dress.
My mouth falls open. I stay still, my heart hammering, as Zack slowly slips his fingers up my thigh, coming to cup my crotch under my dress. I can’t move; that would bring too much attention to us, and the friction would probably just make my issues even worse. So I just grit my teeth and focus on the scene in front of me as Zack starts to stroke me.
My sex blooms under his light touch. I can feel my hot lips swelling, getting wetter, as he teases his fingertips over the thin cotton of my underwear. I’m still so sensitive from last night that even the lightest touch is enough to send arousal tickling inside me, making me squirm.
I glance across at Luke. He looks back at me coolly, his face perfectly calm, as if he has no idea what Zack is doing under my skirt. But he’s watching. Minutely, he jerks his head back to the front of the room. I get the message. Pay attention.
I swallow, turning back to look at Amy and Rob. They’re both holding hands, smiling as they listen to the officiant drone on. Zack keeps stroking me, his touch getting firmer as he draws lazy circles around my sensitive nub, and I grip the sides of my chair as I start to throb. I can feel my cheeks flushing as my breathing gets heavier. I’m trembling. I want to touch myself. I want to yank Zack’s hand away. I want to stand up and run straight back to the hotel room. I try to focus on the ceremony playing out in front of me, but all I can think about is the slowly building ache between my legs.
I can’t help myself. Slowly, I start to rub against Zack’s hand, twitching my hips forward slightly. The balls shift inside me; I can almost picture them clinking together as electricity bolts through me. At the exact same moment, Luke reaches out and puts a hand on my thigh. Pleasure rushes through me in a hot wave. He’s only touching my leg, for God’s sake, but all at once, it’s too much. I can’t help the sharp gasp that falls out of my mouth.
Zack quickly pulls his hand back, covering the noise with a forced cough into his fist. A few heads turn to face us, and I sit frozen in my seat, mortified, pressing my thighs together to try and squeeze some of the ache out of my violently pounding pussy.
I have no idea how long the ceremony lasts. It feels unusually short, but it’s not like I’m paying attention. As I sit there, trying to be still and quiet, my sex won’t stop clenching, over and over and over. Zack keeps his hand in my lap, tickling his fingers under the hem of my dress whenever I start to cool down. By the time the ceremony ends, I’m breathing hard and soaked.
I’m finally jolted back to reality when a round of applause goes up. I look up blearily as Rob touches under Amy’s chin, dipping his head to pull her into a chaste kiss. The flower girl starts dancing around and haphazardly chucking petals everywhere. Josh bends down, laughing, and scoops her up before she collides with the bride and groom. Zack slowly withdraws his hand, patting my knee soothingly. I close my eyes and try to take some deep breaths. I feel so wet that I’m scared to stand up.
As soon as the kiss is over, the band starts up again. The crowd starts to chatter and stand. I force myself to my feet gingerly.
“Excuse me,” a loud, nasally voice says behind us. “Luke Martins.” Fear jolts through me. Oh God. Someone saw.
We all turn around. An old lady sitting in a sparkly pink mobility scooter has reversed into the aisle, and is staring at us impatiently.
“Mrs Smith,” Luke says calmly. “How nice to see you again.” He doesn’t sound particularly enthusiastic. I give him a questioning look. “Amy’s aunt,” he supplies.
