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Part 4
The scent of gardenias and fresh linen filled the room. How much she fussed about the flowers and colors and types of cloth in the last few months. Weddings, really. So much work! It’s almost not worth it. Almost.
But Dawn knew something that would make her feel better. A stark contrast to the prime and proper banality of weddings. Ben’s tuxedo hung pressed and ready on the back of the door, a silent observer to the betrayal unfolding just feet away. She smiled looking at it. It will be almost like he’s here watching.
Dawn stood before the full-length mirror, wearing ivory lace and satin. The wedding dress hugged her every curve, the intricate beading catching the light. Sam stood behind her, his hands resting on her hips. His reflection showed a mix of awe and predatory hunger.
Sam was the son of family friends. She’d known him since they were both toddlers, meeting on holidays and other family gatherings. When she needed to find someone to take her virginity, after that faithful talk with Ben when she turned 18, Sam was conveniently there. Of course he was – it was a big party, all the family and friends were invited. And now, when she needed someone again, he was again there. It really was convenient, she mused.
“I still can’t believe you’re doing this,” Sam murmured, his voice husky as he leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. “Meeting me here. On your wedding day.” His fingers traced the delicate line of the dress’s back, dipping low where the fabric ended. “He’s right downstairs, isn’t he? The cuckold groom.”
God, he was trying to be so edgy. She knew it meant this was a real fantasy of his. She decided to play along. It won’t cost her anything to make this a night he’ll remember for the rest of his life. Another night he’ll remember for the rest of his life. Deciding to go for it, Dawn met his gaze in the mirror. “He’s waiting for his bride,” she whispered, arching her back just slightly, pressing her ass against the growing hardness in his trousers. “He has no idea.”
It was the lie that made it so potent. Sam’s belief in her deception made it all the more exciting. He thought he was the daring rogue, stealing another man’s prize. He didn’t know he was just a tool, like a dildo, she used to enhance the fantasies and sex-life with her soon to be husband. The thought of soon having sex with Ben filled her with a low-key sense of loss. She promised Guy that his wait will end once they are married, but now that it was so close…
Sam’s hands slid around to her front, interrupting her musings. He hugged her possessively over the smooth satin covering her stomach. He gripped the fabric, bunching it in his fists, and with a low growl, he began to hike the heavy skirt up.
“I took this first,” he reminded her, still in his edgy persona. His breath hot on her neck as the hem rose past her knees, her thighs. “I was the first inside this perfect body.” The memory taking her virginity was his favorite trophy. They did it in her childhood bedroom during her birthday party, as the entire extended family was downstairs in the backyard barbecue. She knew it unlocked a kink in him he’s been trying to relive ever since. She smiled at that. Maybe she should try and help him out. God knows he’d facilitated a lot of orgasms for her and Ben, even if unwittingly.
The cool air of the room hit her bare skin as the dress pooled around her waist. She wasn’t wearing anything beneath. Of course she wasn’t. She had planned this. Her hands came up to brace against the cool glass of the mirror, her knuckles turning white as Sam’s fingers entered between her legs from behind.
He found her already wet, slick and ready for him. A groan rumbled deep in his chest. “Always so eager for me, even today,” he breathed, cringe as ever. Working two fingers inside her with a practiced ease that made her gasp, she remembered that for all his faults, he was quite skilled. Her head fell back against his shoulder, her eyes fluttering shut. She didn’t see his smug expression; she saw Ben’s face, his deep, expressive eyes filled with a love so profound it could withstand her torturous whims.
“Hurry,” she whispered, the word a ragged plea.
He fumbled with his belt, his trousers dropping. His cock sprang free, hard and ready. He positioned himself behind her, one hand gripping her hip, the other guiding his length. He didn’t tease. He drove into her with a single, powerful thrust that stole the air from her lungs.
Oh God.
He filled her in a way that was brutish and direct, so different from Ben’s tender, forbidden touches. Each snap of his hips was a reminder of what she denied Ben, a dirty secret she was sewing into her wedding gown. The mirror rattled gently with their rhythm.
“Look,” Sam grunted, his voice strained with effort. “Look at us.”
Her eyes opened, meeting his fevered gaze in the mirror. She watched his body piston behind her, watched her own body jolt with each of his thrusts. She saw the pale, virginal bride being taken, claimed, by another man. The visual was everything she wanted it to be. She engraved the image in her mind, so she could share it with Ben later, and for the rest of their lives.
“You’re mine right now,” he snarled, his pace becoming frantic, desperate. “Say it.”
But she wouldn’t. Not for some loyalty to Ben, she never minded throwing him under the bus when she was with other people… She just couldn’t speak at all, a moan escaping as he hit a spot deep within her that made her see stars. Her own climax began to rise, tight and urgent, fed by the taboo of it all. Ben’s tuxedo on the door. His ring waiting in a velvet box. His pure, untouched body. Sam’s possession of her was the opposite of everything a wedding should stand for. And she loved it.
Sam’s breathing became ragged, his thrusts losing their rhythm, becoming jerky and uncontrolled. “Dawn… fuck…” he choked out, his body tensing. She felt him pulse inside her, a hot, liquid release that seemed to go on and on, marking her, claiming her in the most primitive way.
He collapsed against her back, spent, his sweat dampening the lace of her dress. For a moment, they stayed there, connected, his harsh breaths the only sound in the room.
Slowly, he pulled out. The sudden emptiness left her feeling cold. A warm trickle immediately began its path down the inside of her thigh. She didn’t move, watching in the mirror as he straightened his clothes, a satisfied smirk on his face.
“I’ll see myself out the back,” he said, leaning in to kiss her cheek. She pulled away. “Don’t mess up my makeup! I don’t have time to fix it,” she chided. He blew her a kiss instead through their shared gaze in the mirror, and she returned it. He then left without another word, the door clicking shut softly behind him.
Alone, Dawn slowly lowered her skirt. The satin felt different now, heavier. She turned from the mirror and walked to the window, watching Sam’s figure disappear down the alley. A faint, sticky warmth continued to seep from her, a constant, thrilling reminder.
A soft knock at the door made her jump. “Dawn?” Ben’s voice, laced with love and a tremor of nervous excitement, filtered through the wood. “The officiant is here. Are you ready?”
A slow, triumphant smile spread across her lips. She took a deep, steadying breath, the scent of Sam’s cologne and their sex still clinging to her skin, mingling with the gardenias.
“Yes, I’ll be right there,” she called back, her voice steady and clear. She wouldn’t have time to clean up.