“I have done something like that,” she admitted. “Fucked Patrick and then asked for a favour.”
“And it worked?”
“Pretty much. But that was small beans; this is ourwedding.”
“So, go big. You’ve gotta have something in your back pocket? Didn’t you once show up at some old guy’s house in a maid costume and give the dude a heart attack?”
Fucking Eden.
“Marlon didn’t have a heart attack! It waspalpitations.”
Sal cackled. “Whatever. Heard you still had to call the ambos. Hey, have you ever thought about doing drag? You could be‘Femme Fatal; the bitch whose tits literally kill granddads.’”
Sal said something else, but Cheryl was no longer listening. She did have something in her sexual war chest. An outfit she’d been holding onto for longer than she and Patrick had been together. A costume she’d bought back when she and her former best friend were only casually fucking. Well, not a costume so much as a pink buttplug tail, collar and a cat ear headband. She’d later expanded the look to include pink fur-trimmed gloves and lingerie that worked with the tail. But she’d never worn it.
Patrick had always called her KitKat, and she liked the idea of kitten play, but it had never seemed the right time to go all out. She was shy about how she’d initiate acting like a sexy kitten, but sitting next to Sal, she felt a ring of intuition similar to seeing her Vera Wang dress.
Whycouldn’tshe seduce Patrick as a horny girl cat and try to get him to see their wedding from her perspective? At the very least, it would be empowering to be the one in control. To make him play her game. She pictured the look on his face when hesaw her with a buttplug tail, and her nipples tightened. She could roll out the kitten play experience tonight. Her hair and make-up had been professionally done this morning—courtesy of the Black AMEX card—and she and Patrick had both been drinking. He was probably all turned on by all the strippers, and they’d already discussed bailing out of their respective parties to hook up.
She’d have to Irish goodbye, but everyone inside the club was wasted enough to kick on without her. Eden would make sure of that.
“Sorry,” she told Sal. “I’m gonna ask Patrick if he wants to hook up tonight.”
“Go for it,” they said, sidling another smoke out of the pack.
After a moment’s consideration, Cheryl decided to go obvious.
I can’t stop thinking about my sexy fiancé’s cock. Does he want to come home and give it to me?
She had barely hit send when she got a response.
Fuck yeah, I’m out of here. Be home in an hour.
Then, another message.
Get ready, KitKat. I’m gonna make you forget every man on earth but me.
“Shit,” she told Sal. “I’ve gotta go beat Patrick home and put on my… do what I’m gonna do.”
“Nice! Do hetero intercourse all over your horny fiancé until he sees sense. Only try not to kill him, yeah?”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Cheryl said, handing Sal the last of her smokes. “Patrick’s heart is much stronger than Marlon’s.”
2
Patrick leaned forward in the passenger seat and rolled his shoulders in slow circles. His joints cracked like gunshots, every muscle aching.
The driver laughed. “Sounds rough, mate.”
“Yeah.” Patrick rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m a bit locked up.”
“Nothing a sauna won’t sort.”
Patrick wasn’t so sure. The stress he’d acquired throughout his bachelor party felt like it wasn’t going anywhere. Neither were the bruises he’d gotten during paintball when Ant, Dom and, Marty had held him down while Jase shot him at point-blank range.
He loved his big brothers, but it had been a long time since they’d hung out without their wives or mum keeping them in line, not since Ant’s bachelor party, where all five of them had ended up puking on the same side street.
Things hadn’t gotten that bad tonight—for one thing, he’d refused to play Edward Fireball-hands—but it was still pretty fucking gross. They’d die before they admitted it, but his big brothers were all freaked out about partying with a bunch offooty players and as usual, they’d overcompensated by drinking too much, snorting even more, and throwing a college degree’s worth of cash at the strippers.
