Revenge of the Bridesmaids (9 page)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Each of the ushers asked me to dance, and I did.  None of them danced as well as Devon, but I didn’t say no to any of them.  That was the general plan, after all.  Brenda and Cassie seemed to relish my predicament, but Donna seemed indifferent to it, or maybe even a bit put off.  The waiters started serving salads, and my pulse raced.  I knew the main course wouldn't be far behind, and after that I was supposed to meet Devon in the Bride’s Chamber.

Brenda kept ordering me G&Ts, and in my nervousness, I kept drinking them.  I was feeling no pain by the time they were collecting the salad plates.  Once the toasts and dances with daddy were done, Lisa had loosened up her Nazi grip on us.  We were able to kick off our heels and go barefoot on the dance floor, which I really enjoyed.  Donna dragged me out when Celebration started playing, and I boogied my heart out.  Dancing is easier as a woman—just move about and the jiggle of the body does the rest.  And boy did I jiggle.

I must have flashed more men than I thought when I sat at the dais, or perhaps they had spotted the dirt on my knees, or Chet was a real yenta, or my gazebo show was quite memorable, but whatever the cause, I was extremely popular on the dance floor.  All that attention raised my body temp, for sure.

Art, the groomsman, was probably the most aggressive.  His hands settled on my hips as he danced behind me and he started pulling up the hem of my dress.  I pressed back against him and pushed his hands down with my own.  Lisa would kill me if my naked ass made an appearance at her wedding.  When I felt Art's erection pressing against me through his tux, I darted away as quickly as I could and straight into Donna's arms.  “Oh, hi,” I said.  More than a little drunk, I kissed Donna and giggled.  “I love you so much,” I said.

"Hmm," Donna replied as she released me, twirled about, and wriggled her tone ass against my hips.  Donna pressed her athletic shoulders back against me, put a palm on my cheek, and turned her head, saying, "Drinking gin and juice, I see.  Or I taste, rather."

"No," I said, running my hands up and down her streamlined contours.  "Gin and tonic."

Donna spun about and kissed me harder this time—hard and aggressive, just how I liked it—her arms dangled over my shoulders.  "No,” Donna said.  “Gin and man-juice is what I taste.  Slut."  She stuck out her tongue and then kissed me again.

"You still love me though, right?" I asked, staring deeply into her eyes.

I couldn't believe it.  I actually got Donna to blush!

"Truth be told," Donna said, "I hope you don't manage to bag all the ushers.  Then you can stay this way, and be mine.  You’d be my little bitch forever."

“Cassie said if I failed to sleep with all the ushers she’d change me back anyway so I would get arrested.”

“Forget Cassie,” Donna said.  “She doesn’t call all the shots.  If I want you to be my bitch, you’ll be my bitch.”

God, that got me so aroused.  I thought back to our shower together, naked, Donna in charge—Donna pressing her body against mine, the water pouring down, her hands on my breasts.  And after that, our walk, Donna in my tee shirt, the night wind whipping it about, me, in heels, following her lead, and the gazebo show, and then Donna pinning me down, so strong, while they waxed my legs.  It was all so hot.  I wouldn’t fight to escape that fate—that was for sure.

"Me?  Be your bitch?" I asked, my face a furious red—must have been the gin.  Donna smiled and blew me a kiss.

"Be my everything," Donna said, and then danced away, her tan lithe body hypnotizing me in sinuous retreat.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Donna had me so worked up I barely noticed the dance music had stopped and that the waiters were serving the main course.  Flush, flustered, and embarrassed at being flushed and flustered, I padded back to my seat at the end of the dais.

Be my everything. 
Donna was so hot.  My pulse raced, and my skin felt extra alive.  Dinner was served, but the hunger Donna brought out in me was sexual, and no plate of grilled salmon would satisfy that hunger.  Goodness, I was feeling lusty.

The chair next to me slid back, and I turned to ask Brenda how mad she thought Donna was at me, but it wasn’t Brenda.  Devon sat down next to me—Devon, with his killer bod, and spine-melting smile.  I looked about for the waiter.  I was hungry.

“Brenda and I swapped seats,” Devon said with a smile as he draped a linen napkin over his lap.  Somehow Devon had managed to dance up a storm without messing up his tux.  He looked like he belonged on the wedding cake.

“Oh,” I replied, “I thought you were Brenda.” 

Devon was early.  I wasn’t ready for him until after dinner.  I had geared myself for that, and his early appearance by my side got me all flustered. I thought to put my hand on Devon’s arm, but then pulled my hand away.  Suddenly I didn’t know what to do with it.  I never had to think about what to do with my hands.  I thrust my hands into my lap, and stared down.  My hands twitched and rubbed each other while my pulse beat tom-toms in my ears.  What was wrong with me?  Why was my face so warm?  My eyes were glued to my place setting.  I placed my hands in my lap, where they couldn’t do any harm.  When did I turn into an awkward idiot?

“I didn’t expect to see you again until after dinner,” I said.  “You know,” and then I whispered, “in the Bride’s Chamber.”

“Oh, I’m still up for that,” Devon said, “but I thought we might enjoy eating dinner together.”

“That would be nice,” I said, still staring down at my plate.  That would be nice—what the heck was wrong with me?  I knew what I wanted to say—
I am completely discombobulated by this change in plans.  Please take your handsome bod and go away until after dinner
.  That’s what I would say, if I hadn’t just turned into an inarticulate idiot.

The waiter placed my grilled salmon and broiled shrimp plate in front of me.  Now at least I had something to look at.  I could feel Devon gazing at me.

“So, Amber,” Devon said, “I’ve told you that I restore classic cars, which is probably the only interesting thing about me.”  I doubted that.  He looked like he seldom had a boring moment in his life.  Devon went on.  “Tell me a bit about yourself.”

Myself?  Talk about myself?  No way.  Boy, my dinner looked amazing.  The salmon was grilled to perfection, and the shrimp were big and thick, with bits of cilantro stuck to the glistening bulges.  And the greens!  How did they get them looking so vivid and fresh?  And…and…and…  Gawd, I wished he’d stop looking at me.

“Amber,” Devon said, “if you’re trying to screw up the courage to tell me you’re autistic, it’s okay.”

“Maybe I am a little autistic!” I shot Devon a glare.  “You shouldn’t use a serious condition like that for a punchline.”  Devon grinned that smug grin.  I just wanted to slap it off him—slap it off him or kiss it.  “And another thing…”

“Glad you found your power of speech,” Devon said.  “I was beginning to think you’d start spinning that plate, and send all that fine food a’flying.”  Dammit, he had a warm smile.  He made it hard to be indignant.

“Don’t be foolish,” I said.  “I’m not spinning the plate until after I eat.”  I smiled.  Ugh.  I hated myself for smiling, but his damn grin was infectious. Look away.  Look away from that damn grin.  My eyes darted to his plate.

Oh, he had a nice NY strip steak sitting in front of him, with bleu cheese crumbled on top, and truffle mashed potatoes, if I remembered the menu properly.  “That looks delicious,” I said.  “Your steak.”  I bit my lip, gazed his way, and nodded to the steak.  “Switch with me,” I said.

“Sure,” Devon replied without hesitation.

“What?” I exclaimed.  “You’d give up a steak like that for fish!  What kind of man are you?”

“The kind who likes to make a woman happy.”

Okay, that was a pretty good answer.  I could tell by how warm it made me feel.

“Enjoy your steak,” I said.  “I was only joking about switching.”  Using my fork, I broke apart the salmon along its seams.  The salmon fell apart easily, flaking away.

“Thank God,” Devon said with a chuckle.  He cut into his steak with gusto.  The NY strip was cooked perfectly—pink and bloody on the inside.  Steam rose out of it.  “Umm,” Devon said, chewing enthusiastically.  “Unbelievably good.”

“Don’t rub it in,” I said.

“Here.”  Devon held a perfect slice of steak on the end of his fork.  He lifted it to my mouth.  My hand on his thick wrist, I guided him to my lips.  Devon has skewered it good, and I grabbed the meat firmly with my teeth, pulling it slowly off the silver fork.  Devon’s dreamy blue eyes were glued to my lips.  I wondered if my lips gloss was still okay.  I should have checked them before dinner.  This woman-stuff should come with an operator’s manual.

I wasn’t used to having such a small mouth.  The piece was way too big for me.  Steak juices squirted out onto my chin.  “Whoops,” I said, giggling with my mouth full.  The steak was hot, and the beef juice ran down my face.  But after a few chews the steak basically melted in my mouth.  Devon watched my struggle, and he looked quite amused.

Even though I had a linen napkin, I wiped the steak juice up with my finger and then licked it off, slowly.  Umm, it was delicious.  I almost had a steak-gasm right there.

“You liked that,” Devon said.

“I like good meat.”  This time it was my smile that brought his out.  Touché, Mister Charming!

Devon reached over and stabbed a bit of my salmon.  “I’ve always enjoyed the taste of the sea, myself,” he said.  I watched the salmon sail into his mouth, past those impeccable pearly whites.  I’ve never been so jealous of a piece of fish.  Devon was sexy even while chewing.

Looking down, I noticed Devon had put his hand on my knee.  He wasn’t snaking it up my leg, or copping a feel.  Devon’s hand rested on my freshly waxed leg with a familiar ease, as if we were old friends.  Or old lovers.  Ooh, how racy!

My leg felt wonderfully tingly.  Devon was a gentleman, but persistent.  I liked his style.  His jaw was smooth, but chiseled, and I wondered if he had a hard time shaving.  It didn’t appear so.  There wasn’t a knick to be found on that flawless skin.

“I work in tech,” I said.  “Very boring.”  Both of those were true.

“Oh, we’re talking jobs,” Devon said.  “I restore classic cars as a hobby.  I’m in finance.  Vice President of new ventures at Keebler Cook Walters.”

“Impressive,” I said.  “Vice-president, and so young.”

“Nah,” Devon replied, forking some mashed potatoes in his mouth.  Once he swallowed, he added, “They give away VPs there like tee shirts at a Triple-A game.  If they gave me some equity, then you could be impressed.”

I patted his hand.  “I’m impressed anyway.”

“You’re not eating,” he said.  “Come on, you need your strength to get through this wedding.  If Lisa smells weakness, she’ll pounce.”

“Ah, so you’re familiar with our Tiger-Bride,” I said with a chuckle. 

“Known her since we were little.”

I leaned close, my breast pressing against his arm.  “Then you, dear sir, should tell me some embarrassing secrets about Lisa.”

“Only if you eat,” Devon said.  Pfft.  I was too happy to eat.  With his surfer looks and all-American smile, I’d been afraid Devon would be an asshole.  Clearly, he wasn’t.  Meeting him up in the Bride’s Chamber was going to be a pleasure.

Devon squeezed my knee as he leaned over and speared another bit of salmon with his fork.  “Sure, help yourself,” I said breezily.  “Oh.”  Devon lifted the salmon to me.

“Eat,” Devon said, the fork hovering before my mouth.  The salmon was easier to get off the fork than the steak, but I took just as long.  Devon enjoyed it.  “You’re adorable,” Devon said as I chewed happily.  He fed me the rest of the salmon.  It was divine.

“Your steak is getting cool,” I finally said.  “Chow down.  I need to visit the ladies room.”

“As you wish.”

I slipped on my heels and stepped carefully to the ladies room.  My heart pitter-pattered while I took care of business.  Brenda joined me in the bathroom and re-did my lipstick.  “How’s it going?” Brenda asked.

Trying to keep my stoic game face steady—yeah, I lost that battle—I squealed, “It’s going soooo good!”  I adjusted the top of my dress.  “How do I look?”

Brenda appraised me thoughtfully, and then said, “Scrumptious.  Go get him!”  She kissed me on the forehead.  I sailed out of the bathroom, despite the heels.

When I got back to the dais, Devon was gone.  My heart dropped.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

All that remained of Devon was a half-eaten steak.  I plopped down, kicked my heels back off, and carved a slice of NY strip for myself.  Chewing angrily, I wondered how bad it was that I’d gotten jilted before dessert.  Not good, I knew that much.

Gazing around the reception, Devon was nowhere to be seen.  “Are you done with this, madam?” a waiter said.  I couldn’t see Devon by either of the open bars.  If he’d gone to the lavatory, he should have been back by now.  Maybe he’d gone back to his cabin.  I didn’t even know which cabin he was in.  The waiter cleared his throat and repeated, “Are you done with this, madam?”

Oh, whoopsie.  The madam the waiter was addressing was me.  My bad.  “Yes, I’m done,” I said.  “Take it away, please.”  The waiter whisked the dishes away.  The main course was over.

Aha!  Of course Devon was nowhere to be seen!  He was waiting for me in the Bride’s Chamber.  Or at least I hoped so.  Maybe I didn’t.  I didn’t know.  My hands trembled.  I wasn’t sure if it was from anticipation or nervousness—probably both.

Leaving my heels under the dais so I could move quicker and more stealthily, I slipped off into the nearest hallway, like a secret agent on a mission.  Where the heck was the Bride’s Chamber?  Upstairs, I knew that much.  I walked barefoot down the hall and found a staircase.  Up the carpeted steps I went, my heart racing madly. 

The halls and stairs were empty.  Everyone was still seated from dinner.  I was alone, a wayward waif padding through huge building’s back ways.  My stealthy stealing through the halls felt illicit, and exciting.

I popped into a ladies room to check my hair again—a little knocked about from dancing, but not too bad.  I adjusted my dress, which tended to ride up.  Sure, it showed more leg that way, but it didn’t leave my bosom on full display, so I adjusted it until my cleavage was sufficiently enticing.  Yeah, who’s a hot mama now?  I am, that’s who! 

The soles of my feet stuck to the cool tile floor, and I felt like a two-bit whore, a dirty slag.  Well, if anything, I was a whore—one who only gave blowjobs.  Not sure where that fit in the whore hierarchy, but it had to be further up on the food chain.  Status counts, after all.

The upstairs hall was surprisingly elegant with its thick carpet and side tables and settees along the walls.  As I searched for the Bride’s Chamber, I realized that whore was the wrong analogy.  The wedding barn was a bit like a rustic castle, with these upstairs areas being akin to the master of the house’s private area.  I wasn’t a two-bit whore.  I was more like a serving wench—a bare foot, tunic-clad wench—wending my way through the castle to find my master. 

Downstairs, the dais would very conspicuously have two empty spots—Devon and me.  Everyone might probably guess I had gone off to blow Devon.  So what?  Fuck them all.  I had to do this.  It wasn’t like I wanted to.  I hurriedly looked about for the Chamber.  What did they know about my dilemma?

I felt so naked, wearing only this slip of a dress and nothing more.  It wasn’t fair.  Devon's tux probably had a dozen pieces when you counted all the studs, cummerbund, and other accoutrements, and all I wore was the flimsy fabric of the bridesmaid dress.  No shoes, no stockings, no lingerie—just the dress.  I had one tog on, the bridesmaid dress, and I was heading to the Bride’s Chamber to blow a guy.  To make matters worse, these hallways were long and had offshoots.  I couldn’t find the Bride’s Chamber right away.  But I kept at it, padding down the hall in my naked, filthy feet, looking for my guy to blow.  I wondered if he was big, and the mere question made me salivate.

Truly, I was the Wedding Slut.

It didn’t matter.  I’d do what I had to do in order to escape the bridesmaid’s revenge.  What was the difference if I blew a few guys?  I was getting out of a real legal bind—that is, not going to jail for rape.  That was worth it.  They say rapists are not treated very well in jail.  I had to blow Devon, to protect myself.

Besides, I was still flying high on the G&T airline. 

Finally, there was an oak door at the end of one hallway and it sported a brass plaque that said Bride’s Chamber.  Eureka!  My toes dug into the plush carpet as I made my way slowly down the hall.  Hopefully the Chamber was carpeted too.  That would be easier on my knees.  My heart raced as my hand reached the doorknob.  It didn’t turn.  What the heck?

The door to the Bride’s Chamber was locked.  Now what?  I knocked gently, but there was no answer.  Of course there was no answer.  I’d left Lisa down on the dance floor.  Who else would be in the Bride’s Chamber if not the bride?  Darn it! 

For the first time I admitted to myself I was really looking forward to going down on Devon.  It wasn’t only in the sense that it would bring me closer to being let off the hook by the bridesmaids. Way to lie to yourself, Wedding Slut.  I totally wanted his cock in my mouth.

“Yeep!” I squealed when a strong hand spun me about.  I fell back against the oak door, and Devon pressed up against me.  “Oh, it’s you,” I sighed.  I drank in his sweet cologne as his gaze loomed down on me, those dreamy blue eyes measuring my soul.  My body slid a bit to the side and I locked my bare ankle behind his calf for support.

“Surprised?” Devon asked.

“You startled me,” I said, my lungs pumping.  Devon looked down hungrily at the effect my breathing had on my exposed bosom.  I arched my back.

“You surprised
me
,” Devon said.  He kissed my lips gently, but with fervor.  I ran my foot up and down the back of his leg, pressing my hips to him.  “I didn’t think you’d meet me up here.  Or that you’d be so beautiful.”

“You think I’m beautiful?” I gushed.  Devon’s hands caused sparks to fly wherever they landed.  I was alive, totally alive.  Devon knew what he was doing.  He was getting me so aroused.  Good.  That would make going down on him that much easier.

“Yes,” Devon said.

“Oh,” I replied as his lips descended on my neck.  The door was hard against my back, and Devon was hard against my front.  I ran my hand through his hair and pressed his head against me.  “The door is locked,” I whispered when he finally came up for air.

“Don’t worry,” Devon said.  “I have a key.”

He unlocked the door and whisked me up in his arms.  My, he was strong!  I was suddenly feeling very oral, and I nibbled on his neck, just above his starched white collar.  Mmm, mmm, he tasted good, and he had a strong, wide neck.  I loved snuggling against him.

Inside the Bride’s Chamber, the divan was right in front of a bay window that looked out over the wedding gazebo and the ocean beyond.  Devon sat down on the divan and settled me on his lap.  I slid my fingers inside his tux shirt, running my palm along his hard chest.  My, what a physique.

“I want you so badly,” Devon said, his arms hauling me in, and his fluttering kisses peppering my mouth.  I could feel, via my thigh, that Devon was ready for me.  After I sucked his cock, then I only had to do two more.  Then I would be free again.  But really, there was no need to rush.

Popping two of his shirt studs out, my hand journeyed south and felt the hard press of Devon’s defined abs against my palm.  I bit my lip.  He was so virile.  I was so lucky.  We necked on the divan overlooking the ocean.  Devon’s hand slid up and down my bare, smooth thigh.  The leg wax was worth it.  I didn’t want to miss a scintilla of sensation.  Yum!  I hoped he ran his hands everywhere.

Devon was as smooth and effortless in the boudoir as he had been on the dance floor.  His arm supported me, and all I had to do was perch there in my Devon-cradle and kiss him.  Coincidentally, all I wanted to do was sit there in my Devon-cradle and kiss him.  I lost all sense of time.  The wedding could have been over hours ago for all I noticed.

What was up with me?  I was really digging this.  Maybe Brenda was correct, and I was all estrogen-y.  I had no idea what was in the Femnizol they gave me.  It could have been all estrogen.  Who knew?  So, maybe I was estrogen-y, or maybe I was just bi.  Whichever it was, it didn’t matter.  As my palms explored the bare skin under his shirt, I realized I wanted Devon.  I really fucking wanted him, like a major league lust puppy. 

When his hand was on the side of my neck, and he leaned my head back, I wrapped an arm around him and pulled us as close together as could be.  I couldn’t tell where his mouth ended and mine began.  Heaven looked down on us with envy.

His tux jacked was driving me crazy.  It was totally in the way.  I twisted about and straddled Devon, freeing up both my hands.  I slid his jacket back over his shoulders.  “Get this out of my way,” I whispered.  When it was halfway off, it pinned Devon’s elbows behind him a bit.  “I like this,” I said.  “Keep those hands back there.  They are friggin dangerous.”  Devon grinned at me, and kept his hands behind him.

Still straddling Devon, I hiked my dress up and settled down on Devon’s lap.  I tenderly cradled his face between my palms and took charge of the kissing, pressing our chests together.  Devon settled back on his hands and let me.

He was an oral delight.  I slid my body up and down, so that my breasts rode his powerful chest, but I didn’t let that interfere with my kisses.  Um, this was comfy.  My palms stroked his chiseled face while my lips communed with his.  I was compelled to touch Devon in every way I could.  He was just so damn sexy.

Then I made the mistake of opening my eyes.  It wasn’t a bad thing, what I saw—not necessarily.  It was Devon’s gorgeous face.  That could never be bad.  But the look in his dark blue eyes—the hunger there—made my body shiver.  Goodness, what had I done?  I instantly became aware of how big and strong this man between my knees was, and how small and tiny and defenseless I was.  Oh no!  Had I given him the wrong idea?  I belatedly realized that straddling Devon, and riding my breasts up and down his chest while I kissed him, was a lot like fucking him.

I was driving him wild.  I didn’t mean to—I don’t think—but I was driving him wild.  Me.  Little old me.

I almost came, right there, just from the thought of me driving him wild.

Devon leaned forward and grabbed both my butt cheeks.  He hauled me against him.  Stop looking at him!  Stop looking at him!  You’re giving him the wrong idea!  But I couldn’t.  I couldn’t break away from his hungry blue eyes.

Only a thin layer of tuxedo pants, and maybe a pair of boxers, was keeping our privates apart.  I could feel the heat of his cock against me.  My cunt pressed wetly against the front of his trousers.  His hand snaked up my back and gripped my dress zipper.  This was not going the way I expected.  Oh boy!  I needed a detour, fast!

“Devon,” I said, “I want to suck your cock.”  The words came out easily, without a hint of hesitation.  I did, gosh darn it.  I wanted to blow his fat boy.  I wanted to kneel between his legs and worship his masculinity.

“Oh do you now?” Devon asked.  He pulled down the rear zipper of my dress with aching slowness.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Setting you free,” he replied.  He yanked the zipper all the way down, and my breasts spilled out.  Oh, no. Would he hate them?  His eyes drifted down to the three hundred dollar bills that had been tucked in my bodice.

“Mad money,” I whispered.  I didn’t feel compelled to gaze into his dreamy blue eyes any longer.  In fact, I couldn’t, because his mouth descended on my bosom.  Oh,
that
didn’t suck—quite the opposite, actually.  I ran my fingers over his hair.  Devon definitely liked my breasts.  His lips and tongue teased and flicked my nipples, and I discovered how marvelous that could feel.  Oh, goodness, this was going down an oh-so-wrong and oh-so-right road.

“Devon, baby,” I gushed.  “I need to suck your cock.”  I had to stop him before we went too far in the wrong direction, but I didn’t want to stop him too soon.

My fingers were still running through his hair when Devon lifted his head up and gazed at me.  His eyes looked even hungrier, and I let out a little gasp.  My fingertips tingled.  Devon eased my dress up over my head, and I didn’t resist.  Like on the dance floor, I followed his lead.  I’d follow him anywhere.

“Devon!!” I giggled.  “Now I’m naked.”  I buried my face into his shoulder of his tux and let out a muted squeal.  His hands flitted up and down me.  I felt so alive.  I was naked in this virile man’s clutches, and what better place was there to be?

“You have a beautiful body,” Devon said.  I could hear my pulse pounding in my ears.  My hands clawed at Devon’s shirt.

“But I’m naked!” I squealed again, my eyes squeezed shut.  His hand ran along my bare butt, and I pounded on Devon’s chest with my tiny fist.  “I don’t need to be naked to go down on you!”  I arched my back, like a kitten responding to a petting.

“No, you don’t,” Devon replied. 

I was having trouble breathing.  “Let me suck your cock, Devon, please?  I need to.”

“No.”

My eyes shot open.  Devon spun me about and placed me on my back on the divan.  Wow.  Before I knew it, Devon was between my legs and on top of me.  Goodness, he was strong, and huge!

“No, Devon, no.”

He pressed my wrists back up over my head and leaned in, kissing me.  My legs were spread wide; Devon was between them; I was naked; he wore a tux; my hands were pinned back.  Devon was strong and gorgeous and totally erect.  It was so erotic, my entire body quivered with excitement.

“No?” Devon asked.  “Why not?”