Authors: DL White
"A modern man takes care of his situation. And don't you forget it," he quips. "Caveman. Shut your mouth."
"Shut my mouth? You won't like that."
An eyebrow rises. "You know what? You're right about that." He leans over to kiss me again. I tighten my arms around his neck and gently pull so that he rolls toward me and settles his body onto mine. My legs wrap around him, our chests are pressed together, our lips and tongues are performing the same dance they've been performing since we were fifteen.
I feel him, growing longer and harder between us. My hips and back arch, pressing my core into him. God, he feels good.
Preston tears his mouth from mine, ostensibly to catch his breath, as he pants into my skin. "So... are you going to this rehearsal dinner?"
"As much as I want to lay here with the patio door open and let the entire island hear you make love to me all night... I think we have to."
"Whyyy?" He whines.
"Because we are the Best Man and the Maid of Honor. We're required to be there."
"Says who?" He asks, his lips burning a hot, wet trail down my neck and across my shoulder, then across my chest. He plays with the cups of my swimsuit, revealing a nipple and closing his mouth over it.
"Says..." I gasp and writhe at the sensation of his tongue rasping across sensitive buds. "Etiquette. Besides, if we don't show up, what will everyone think?'
"That we're in your room fucking, I hope." He moves to the other cup, pulls down the thin fabric and gives attention to the other nipple.
"Pretty sure they are hoping for that."
"Dreams come true," he says, sitting up. "Here, take this off."
I unsnap the top to my swimsuit and pull it off, then shimmy out of the bottom and toss them both away. Preston follows suit and pulls off his golf shorts and shirt.
I've seen Preston nude every day for the past five days, but I still can't get used to it. The difference in his body night and day. He's not thin and spindly with young, wiry hair sprouting everywhere. He's mature and manly, muscular with thick patches of hair leading to that delicious
V
. Sculpted. Manscaped. I would laugh, but I find him so goddamn sexy right now.
I pat the bed, encouraging him to lay down close to me. As he does, I reach out for him and do my favorite thing, run my fingers through the hair on his chest. He seems to enjoy it, as he lets me do it for a few minutes before his hands start to explore my version of sculpting.
"Do you have any idea how good it feels to touch you?"
I smile and let my fingers crawl south and grip him. He's warm and hard but so smooth. I admire the mere strength I'm holding in the palm of my hand. Slowly, I begin to stroke him from base to tip and back down, squeezing and pulling and slightly twisting. His eyes flutter closed, his hips pulse in rhythm and he groans.
"I have some idea. Yeah."
"You know what you can do with that, right?"
"Again... I have some ideas."
He chuckles, then sits up a little, swatting my hand away. "Get away from there. You're just teasing. This is what I want."
An entire day of anticipating this moment, coupled with the past few minutes of teasing and foreplay has left me slick and warm. If his long, loud exhale is any indication, he's had the same day I've had.
His body moves like a well-oiled machine, thrusting and pushing, giving and receiving. This is all I've wanted all day and I heave a giant sigh of relief to finally have it.
What I'd thought was going to be a hard, loud pounding turned slow and sensuous. Gentle lovemaking, not raucous, crazy fucking. I can handle the latter. The former, while it's so nice to be close to Preston, scares me.
Because I know these are the moments he gets emotional and personal and talks about his feelings. These are the moments he is vulnerable and shows me the real him, not the asshole everyone knows.
These are the moments that will make me fall in love with him again.
Hours later we are headed to the elevator, on the way to the Rehearsal Dinner. I'm wearing a strapless, deep pink sundress and sandals. Preston is wearing khaki shorts and a short sleeved shirt, no socks and slip-on shoes. He looks casual, seems relaxed and happy when I glance over at him, waiting for the elevator to arrive.
"What? I have something on my face?"
"Yep," I say. "A smile."
"Your fault." He gestures to me to step into the elevator first, after the doors open. We get in and the doors close. He presses L for lobby. "I need you to know something," he says.
I know exactly what he's going to say, but I ask anyway. "What?"
He reaches out, presses the stop button on the elevator and waits until it grinds to a halt. A low beep comes from the instrument panel on the wall.
Preston turns to me, grips my waist in his hands and walks us backward toward the wall, then pushes up against me. Head to knees, we are pressed together, not a speck of daylight between us. His mouth drops to mine and he devours my lips, my mouth, my tongue, groaning and grunting and squeezing me in his hands.
I'm a pool, melted feelings and emotions and wants. I
do not want
to go to this dinner. I want to go back upstairs and do more of what we’re doing right now.
"I love you," he says, his eyes holding me hostage. I can barely hear him over the steadily rising volume of the beeps coming from the elevator. "I always have. And I want you to love me again. I will hear you say you love me. Understood?"
I have no words. No breath. No thoughts. He's gone from deeply sensual to passionate and loving to brusque and commanding. My mind is a blur. I'm lost in everything I'm feeling right now. All I can do is nod, and say, "uh huh."
He steps back, pushes the ‘Start' button on the elevator. The beeping stops and the cube shakes to life and begins its descent again. I wipe the mess he's made of my lip gloss off of my face.
Preston faces front, his face a mask covering any emotion he might have displayed mere seconds ago. He slides his hands into his pockets and says, "Let's not stay long at this thing. Dinner, a toast. You leave first; I'll follow in about ten minutes. We have unfinished business."
"You are unbelievable. Just unbelievable! Like... just...."
"Unbelievable?"
"Oh, shut up!"
The door to my hotel room slams open and bounces against the door stop before it swings toward the doorjamb. I stomp through the room and toss a beaded, plum colored clutch onto the couch. Preston catches the door before it closes and steps inside, letting it slip closed soundlessly behind him.
I can't sit. I can't even stand still. I'm so furious I'm shaking; it's a wonder I even have a voice, since I've been screaming at Preston for the better part of an hour. Preston has trailed behind me, hands in his pockets, tie undone, shirt unbuttoned at the neck. If I wasn't so pissed off at him, I'd jump him.
But I am pissed off at him. So much that I feel the steam shooting out of my ears.
"I don't even understand why you would do such a thing. We talked about this. I told you how important it was to me and you said you got that. Did you not understand me? Was I not clear?"
Preston has taken a seat on the couch. His legs are stretched out in front of him, shoes off, feet crossed at the ankles. He's picked up my clutch and is picking at the miniature beads sewn into the fabric. At my litany of questions, he looks up and calmly answers, “I understood you perfectly."
"So..." I huff, hands on my hips. How is he so calm and nonchalant? "What the fuck, Preston?"
Preston tosses the purse onto the glass top table in front of the couch. He pushes himself up to a standing position and slowly makes his way across the room to stand in front of me.
"The fuck, as you put it, is that I got tired of pretending and making like the only guy here without someone special."
"So you would rather risk that someone special than pretend for a few more days? We had three days, Preston. After today we don't even have to hang out with anyone anymore. We were home free!"
He shrugs. "Well, now we can do whatever we want, whenever we want and we don't have to hide us anymore. I don't get how you don't see this as a good thing."
I turn to face the gorgeous view of the afternoon sun burning on the horizon, the indigo blue water, the blinding white sands, the festive umbrellas dotting the beach. I can't even look at him. If you've ever wondered how things can go wrong in just a few hours, take a situation and add Preston.
This morning, everything was perfect.
***
On the heels of a joyous, loud, drunkfest of a rehearsal dinner, Preston and I separately escaped The Cliff Restaurant and Bar and met up at my room. Mid-thrust, Preston mumbled into my ear, "I think we should tell them."
As I was on the verge of orgasm, I laughed and bucked my hips up at him. "Don't you dare. I'm having too much fun having you all to myself."
Preston stopped moving momentarily and caught my eye. "That's what it's about, for you? Having me to yourself?"
"Wha–Preston... what is this inquiry about? Right now? In the middle of sex, right when I'm about to come?"
He began to move again, his hips thrusting and pulling back. But his heart wasn't in it. And that meant my heart wasn't in it. I didn't want that, not with Preston.
"What?" I asked. "What now?"
"Nothing," he said. "You want to come don't you?"
"I want you to be into it and you're not. You might as well stop."
He stopped and pulled out, flopped next to me, bunching a pillow up behind his head.
"Talk to me."
Preston sighed, then ran a hand down his face, wiping away a light sheen of sweat. "I'm thinking. About the wedding and us and everybody. I know you don't agree but I think our friends should know about us. I feel like we're lying to them."
"But we're not. And they will know. They'll know when we're good and ready to tell them."
"I'm good and ready to tell them."
"Well, I'm not. We have this wedding and this reception to get through, still. This trip is about Nate and Morgan. Jade told me today that we're all anyone is talking about. The whole wedding party is tittering about whether or not we're getting along over here. I don't want that."
"I know. I don't either. But eventually..."
I grabbed his face and tipped his head toward me so I could look him in the eye. "I promise we won't go the rest of our lives hiding our relationship from our friends. But can we at least get through the wedding? Can we give Nate and Morgan that much?"
Reluctantly, Preston nodded. Then a sly grin slid across his face and he rolled over, grabbing my legs, holding them open and entering me again. It was like picking up where we'd left off minutes ago, except the small break in the action had done us both good. We both came in a sweaty, breathy mess.
And I really thought things had been settled, especially when he woke me up the next morning with a poke from behind.
We moved around each other easily. We had breakfast and lounged on the sun porch off of my room. We shared a shower and started getting ready for the wedding. Preston zipped my dress, a strapless elegant gown in a deep, custom dyed plum. I helped him with his tie and fasten his cufflinks. When we left the suite, all was right in my world.
It was a surreal moment, navigating the walkways of the resort in my matching strappy sandals, the tail of my dress clutched in my fingers so it didn't drag, my other hand tucked into Preston's elbow for support. His tux–black Armani, and manly signature scent made him look and smell good enough to eat.
We arrived at the site of the wedding and lined up according to our rehearsal the previous day. All of us bridesmaids wore the same color but different styles of dress. All of the men wore classy black tuxes, surreptitiously swiping beads of sweat from hairlines and upper lips. The temperature on the beach was in the high 80's-great for us girls in flowing skirts and strapless dresses. Terrible for men in full tuxedos.
"Let's get this show on the road," Kent mumbled, fiddling with his tie and shirt collar.
"Stop messing with your shirt," Brandy fussed, smacking his hands away and fixing his collar. She glanced at me and smiled, saying, "Why can't you be more like Preston? Angie has him all squared away and he isn't unbuttoning anything."
"Preston's not shoving a ten inch neck into a nine inch hole. I think the tux shop gave me the wrong shirt. I'm choking here!"
My eyes slid over to Preston, who was standing patiently, waiting for the music to cue us to begin walking. I noticed the hint of a smile, listening to the longest married couple in our group bicker.
"Could be us. Give us about ten years."
I opened my mouth to protest but the music started, so I tucked my arm into his and stepped in time to the sound of the wedding march played on steel drums.
The ceremony was blessedly short but sweet. Morgan looked angelic, radiantly beaming in her strapless white wedding dress, looking like she'd just stepped off the cover of Bride Magazine. Nate looked handsome and proud, though nervous in his white tux. In his lapel was a rose dyed the color of the lilies in Morgan's bouquet and the shade of our dresses. Every detail was perfect, to the letter.
As my two best friends on the planet stood and faced each other and recited vows that they probably wrote together–because they do everything together–my gaze shifted past this coupling to Preston standing on the other side. His eyes weren't Nate and Morgan either. They were on me.
With the rings exchanged and the vows recited, it was all over but the kiss, which was met with a loud, rousing chorus of whooping and hollering. The moment they were declared Mr. & Mrs. Nate and Morgan McCord and joyously danced down the center aisle, I watched Kent roll his eyes in relief and unbutton the collar of his shirt.
Right on cue, Brandy showed up to fuss. "We have pictures in a few minutes!"
"Do you care that I can't breathe?"
"Of course I care, baby. But you can't take wedding party photos with your collar unbuttoned."
"Well, when it's time for the pictures I'll button it again. Right now I need some air." Brandy clicked her tongue and reached for his collar. He gently grabbed her wrist and glared. "Bran, I love you but I will toss you into the ocean right fucking now if you touch my collar."
The entire wedding party and half the guests, all privy to this light argument laughed. Nonplussed, Brandy anchored a fist on each hip. "Who're you going to get to raise your bighead kids, then?"
Kent groaned, rolled his eyes, and bent down toward her so she could button the collar. I stifled a laugh and walked past them, down the center aisle through a few gaggles of people lingering to chat. I said hello to Nate's parents, then Morgan's on my way to the reception hall, a few steps away from the beach.
Inside the dark room illuminated by candles and low hanging strings of pearl lights, several tables were spread about. A buffet table lined one wall, a full bar and bartender lined another. At the head of the room was a large square of wood paneling to serve as a dance floor, since a disco ball hung dead center. On a makeshift stage, a steel drum band was pounding out contemporary hits.
"So, I've never heard
My Prerogative
quite like this before." Preston had snuck up next to me, a drink already in hand.
"Yeah, it's.... different. But not bad once you get used to it."
"They don't play all night," he said, reassuringly. "Just for atmosphere, until we get going and then it's piped in music."
"Great. I was beginning to worry about your part in this plan." Preston's job was the festivities–the parties, the reception, everything from food to music. My job was style-details like colors and decoration and the general flow of the ceremony. While we collaborated on a few tasks, I let Preston do what he does best–plan a party, while I did what I do best–coordinate the hell out of everything else.
"We did a great job, partner," said Preston, dropping an arm over my shoulder. "It's been a good trip so far. Very...very good." He nuzzled my neck as he spoke. His lips, wet from his drink brushed against my skin and sent a shock of pleasure through me.
"Knock it off," I mumbled, stepping away from him.
Preston paused for a moment and then with a twinkle in his eye, said, "That's right, Evangeline. Play the part. Put on an Oscar winning performance for all of our friends here. I'm sure they appreciate the effort."
I glared at Preston, who knocked back the rest of his drink and headed back over to the bar. The room was beginning to fill up. The wedding party had to meet for photos. If Preston was planning to get drunk and ruin these pictures....
I rushed to get between him and the bar, a move that must have surprised him. "You cannot be drunk. We have pictures in ten minutes."
"I'm not drunk, Angie. I got a little something to cool me down and I'm taking the cup back to the bar." He dropped the cup on to the faux wood counter of the makeshift bar and turned to me as if to say ‘see?' "Have a little faith in me. We've still got a show to put on, right?"
I sighed with relief, grabbed his arm and dragged him back outside.
With photos taken and the wedding preserved for posterity, everyone seemed immensely more relaxed. Even Morgan, who was giddy and tittering away earlier seemed more mellow, quietly chatting with Nate at a table. They were holding hands, admiring their matching wedding bands, smiling at each other and acting like they were the only two people in the room.
We ate, we drank, we partied. We danced until our shoes came off and then danced some more. After a few hours, Preston grabbed a flute of champagne, climbed up on stage and pulled the microphone from its stand, motioning for the music to be turned down.
"Ya'll know what time it is, right?" Preston's question was met with a round of applause and the
ting ting ting
of silverware banging against glassware. "Yep, it's time for me to wax nostalgic about my buddy Nate and how much he means to me. I mean, you guys all know us, have known us for a long time. Four of us have known each other almost our whole lives."
I felt not only Preston's gaze but the entire room's eyes on me. I smiled and waved and waited for him to continue.
"Back when we were kids, I never saw Nate without Morgan. Never saw Morgan without Nate. They were the same person. One unit.
Nate&Morgan
." The room laughed, as did Preston. "That's not to say that Nate and I did not have our share of guy time. In junior high there were sleepovers and lunch at our lockers. In high school there was the back of the room during biology lab, when we were supposed to be dissecting frogs. When Nate was pre-med and I was pre-law, and then he was a doctor and I was an attorney, we always found time to hit the golf course for a round or two. Okay, nine holes and three hours of beers and imitation Cubans in the club house, but whatever."
Preston paused for another bout of laughter. "I'd say I never met two people more perfect for each other, more in love, more suited for happily ever after than these two... but I'd be lying."
Preston's pause was met with an eerie silence. Everyone, including me, was holding a breath, waiting for the next few words. I closed my eyes, silently uttering a prayer to a God that I was sure was not listening. "Please don't do this. Please, please, please."