But I was avoiding Will like it was my reason for being.
It wasn’t about after-the-fact awkwardness; I didn’t believe in that either. No, it was about him pushing every one of my buttons and driving me to homicidal urges. He was rude and narrow-minded, and I didn’t intend to start another feminist debate on my best friend’s wedding day.
And his cock turned me into a dumb, drooling orgasm factory.
Nope, none of that had a spot at Matt and Lauren’s nuptials.
Of course, I wasn’t able to avoid Will or his shenanigans when it came to the post-ceremony photographs. It was as if the photographer knew exactly what we did last night and she thought,Now this would be an awesome way to mess with people and capture it on film.She parked me and Will together in every group shot, and repeatedly instructed us to “squeeze a bit closer.”
I subtly flipped the photographer off every time, and it seemed she, and everyone else, was oblivious to my discomfort.
Sam was still drunk.
Nick was asking Erin every conceivable question about Portugal.
Riley was flirting with the photographer’s assistant.
Andy and Patrick were having another one of those silent conversations I’d ignored for months. I thought they were glaring at each other. Turned out it was foreplay. Who knew?
Matt and Lauren were busy being the happiest people in the world, and a tiny, tiny fraction of me wanted this to be mine. For a split second, I wanted all of this, but more than the beachside ceremony, pink wedding dress, and champagne everywhere, someone who saw only me.
Someone who adored me.
“Squeeze in!” the photographer called.
Will’s hand curled around my hip, drawing me closer to his hard body, and annoyance quickly replaced my jealousy. “Paws to yourself, commando.”
“Relax, buttercup.”
That voice was right in my ear, and it sounded exactly the same as when he was too deep inside me for my brain to function. Like I meant something to him. Like he wanted to mean something to me. Like all of this was more than one wild night.
Manipulative fucking orgasms.
“We arenotdoing this,” I said, and then I thought better of it. We were both here for another night, right? “Not right now.”
“Always so serious.” He rocked against me, and I felt every inch of him, half-hard against my back. “How are you in a bad mood after last night? You enjoyed it. Youenjoyedit six or seven times. I know. I was there.”
“You’re an arrogant asshole,” I whisper-hissed. “My heels are bigger than your dick, and accomplish far more.”
“Hmm,” he said. His finger trailed between my exposed shoulder blades while the photographer switched lenses. We were on the far end of the group and close enough together so no one noticed his hand shifting from my hip to cup my ass over the layers of floaty mint green chiffon. “You phrased it differently last night.”
I didn’t respond because he was right about that, yet his cock didn’t need another vote of confidence from me.
“Just one more,” the photographer said. “Squeeze in super tight.”
Will’s fingers brushed down my back as the photographer clicked away, and I knew I’d be the fool grinning with her eyes closed in every one of these shots. If there was any possibility of disappearing from this reception and letting those fingers finish what they were starting, I would have snapped it right up.
But that wasn’t happening. Not for me, not tonight. My brother and my best friend were getting the best goddamn reception I could conjure, and if that meant sacrificing some screeching orgasms, I’d survive. All told, I sacrificed more than my share of screeching orgasms for my family.
“Perfect,” the photographer said. “Now, bride and groom only.”
I huffed out a sigh of relief and stepped forward, but Will’s hand tightened around my dress. “Not so fast, Shortcake.”
“Would you shove the Shortcake up your ass, please?” That fucking nickname. Did he think he was the first person to call me Strawberry Shortcake? Or Pippi Longstocking? Or Little Orphan Annie? I’d heard every tired, unoriginal redhead nickname known to man, and the only less-inventive names he could throw at me would be Red or Freckles.
“You really need to loosen up,” he said. “Why don’t you let me help you with that?”
“Why don’t you suck my dick?” I asked, my elbow landing on his stomach. I heard a soft grunt behind me, and this time, he didn’t protest when I marched away.
