“I’m not typically the type to move this quickly, but I do feel a connection with you,” I pant, rubbing my hand along his fly, appreciating the size of him.
Much bigger than the bully.
“You can take it out,” he mumbles against my skin.
I don’t need any additional coaxing. In seconds, I have his cock in my hand while two racks of jackets shield us from view of anyone. As long as we’re quiet, we should be able to keep the privacy we have.
His fingers slide under the skirt of my dress, pushing my panties aside to stroke between my lips. “I’m not the only ready one.”
“No, you’re not,” I breathe. “What if we get caught?”
“No one’s coming here,” he says, sliding two fingers inside me. “The dance just started—we’ve got at least an hour.”
An hour. I don’t know if I need five minutes.
“Roy,” I whisper, stroking him, “this really does feel like something out of a book.”
He straightens, locking eyes with me while he toys with me. The gaze is intense, sensual, and I’m ready to fall apart—until the coat room door slams open.
We both freeze, holding our breath until the person grabs their jacket and leaves.
The interruption gives me just enough clarity to step back before I completely unravel on his hand. If someone walks past the two racks, they’ll find me with a tit out, his hand between my legs, and my hand holding his dick.
“Roy, I know you’re in here,” a female voice calls.
I step back again, fixing my top and pushing my skirt down, aching without his fingers inside me. The racks shift, and there stands the bride.
Please don’t let this be his sister.This would be the worst way to meet his family. Especially because he hasn’t shifted to put himself away.
“How could you?” she demands.
“Marie,” he says, and the longing in his eyes kills my prayer on the spot.
Marie, beautiful in her gown, bursts into tears. “You brought a date and took her into the coat check to fuck her?”
“You’re married,” Roy says flatly. “To someone else.”
Holy shit. I was the date to his ex-girlfriend’s wedding.
“It doesn’t mean I don’t still love you,” Marie says.
Right. Because marrying another man definitely screamsstill in love.
“You chose him over me, and now you’re married.”
I finally find my voice. “Um… why are we at your ex-girlfriend’s wedding?”
“Because he wants to hurt me by ripping my heart out and stomping on it,” Marie snaps.
“But didn’t you—”
“Stay out of this!”
I back against the wall as the scene unfolds like a soap opera.
Roy cups her face—with the same hand that he had between my legs just moments ago—and gently kisses her lips. “I love you, and you chose him.”
“I didn’t have a choice,” she whispers, a tear spilling down her cheek and over his fingers. “Daddy doesn’t approve of you.”
