I don’t know who this guy is to either groom. A friend? Distant relative? Wedding crasher?
But whatever makes me step away from the wall and the party, and toward my ex’s empty house, isn’t something I want to analyze too carefully right now.
I don’t look to see if he’s behind me, but my answer is in the noise of our footsteps echoing off the tiled floor as I throw all caution to the wind and lead him down the hallway, my heart hammering against my ribs with each step.
Away from the reception, the house is quiet, almost as though the world outside doesn’t exist.
The bathroom door clicks shut behind us, and I barely have time to turn the lock before he’s pressing me against it, his body warm and insistent against mine. Our height difference requires him to tilt his face up to reach me, and something about that desperate adjustment breaks through my last defenses.
I pull him into a kiss that’s all heat and need, wanting to drown in the sensation of something, anything, other than the emptiness that’s been consuming me. His mouth tastes like the champagne we shared, sweet and effervescent with an underlying fruity flavor. He responds with surprising tenderness, his hands gentle on my face even as his mouth is urgent against mine.
Rising onto his toes, he brings his lips to my ear. “I know what you need,” he whispers, and the words send a shiver down my spine. His hands move with care, loosening my tie just enough to let me breathe properly for the first time tonight. “Can I give it to you?”
“Yes.” Is all I’m capable of.
In the mirror, I catch a glimpse of us. His curl-filled head moving lower, my usually perfect hair disheveled, the contrast of his rumpled suit against my still-pristine one. He sinks to his knees with a grace I wouldn’t have expected, his fingers making quick work of just enough fastenings to free me before his mouth is on my cock.
When I look down, his eyes meet mine with an intensity that makes my breath catch. All my control and trusted defense mechanisms crumble under that gaze. His mouth is hot and skilled, drawing sounds from me that I barely recognize as my own.
“You’ve got such pretty lips.” I want to say more, but that’s all I have in me when I see him working his cock out of his pants and stroking himself with the same determination he’s using to suck me into the back of his throat.
My head falls back against the door as pleasure builds, but I can’t keep my eyes closed. I find myself watching in the mirror, mesmerized by the sight of him pleasuring me, by my own almost unrecognizable face. When he looks up again, I meet his gaze, and it’s my undoing. I come with a shudderthat shakes loose everything I’ve been holding on to too tightly.
He swallows every last drop, wiping his glistening lips with the back of his hand before resting his forehead on my leg and finishing himself. I’m almost jealous of his hand. It gets to touch him when I already know I won’t.
I’m glad I haven’t gotten a proper look at his cock, or I might be tempted to do more than accept a blowjob in my ex’s bathroom.
He rises slowly from the floor, his movements fluid despite the confined space. As he stands, he places one hand on my chest to steady himself, then leans in to press a surprisingly tender kiss against my lips.
His fingers are deft as he tucks my spent cock back in my underwear, zips my pants, and when he’s satisfied that my shirt is perfectly tucked back into the waistband, fixes my tie. All I want to do is push him away, but in the same way this beautiful stranger pulled me into this bathroom with just one steady look of his blue eyes, all I can do is go along with it.
“It’s a wedding,” he murmurs, smoothing the fabric against my chest. “Everyone deserves to smile at a wedding.” His hands linger on my shoulders, warm through the layers of my suit, before falling away as he steps back.
His eyes search mine, but I look away, afraid of what I might inadvertently let him see.
We don’t exchange names or numbers. This was what it was. I commit his face to memory as he goes over to the sink and washes his hands, knowing I’ll never see it again.
He exits first, leaving the door open behind him. I count to thirty before following, straightening my cuffs one final time in the mirror. My reflection looks exactly as it did before, except it no longer mirrors the turmoil inside.
The hallway seems longer on the return journey, eachstep carrying me farther from what just happened. I make my way through the quiet house until I reach the garden entrance, where the music and chatter from the reception still run strong and loud.
From my position at the edge of the house, I can see my beautiful stranger on the dancefloor now, his enthusiasm for movement completely divorced from any actual rhythm. He throws himself into each beat like it’s a personal challenge, his jacket swinging wild and free.
The dancing is categorically terrible, but there’s something magnetic about the pure joy of it. He’s laughing with the other guests, his head thrown back in abandon, and I find my lips curving into their first genuine smile of the evening.
I check my watch and begin my mental checklist for departure. Cuffs straight, tie perfect—thanks to him—and jacket buttoned. All my armor is back in place.
At the threshold, I allow myself one final glance back. He’s attempting what appears to be a spin move, nearly colliding with another guest but somehow turning it into a group dance moment instead.
The music fades with each step I take into the night, but I carry with me the memory of his terrible dancing, his exploring hands, and the way he made me forget, for just a moment, all the reasons I don’t deserve to smile at weddings.
1
THATCHER
My color-codedfiling system makes perfect sense. Rainbows of sticky notes flutter around me like confused butterflies as I continue my grand reorganization. The gasps coming from the accounting department sound a little like shock, but it’s probably wonder.
“Trust me, this is going to revolutionize everything!” I declare, waving a fistful of hot-pink sticky notes that shed glitter with each gesture. My phone buzzes against my hip for the fifth time in as many minutes, but I’m too focused on my mission to check it. This is my legacy, my parting gift to the office that has endured, I mean, enjoyed my presence for the past six months.
