The way Heath looks at me, it’s like no one else is around and I feel perfectly at ease. Sometimes it’s almost as if he’s in love with me. My ex never looked at me the way Heath does. It’s easy to see why things are so confusing with him. I want to say something about it, but would he even know what I’m talking about? I’ve never seen him look at anyone else the way he looks at me, but then again, it’s not as if I’ve known him for years. Maybe he looks at other women that same way and I just haven’t noticed—though I doubt it. I’m fairly certain if I saw that look on his face directed at anyone other than me, I’d rip the girl’s throat out.
I smile a little at my jealous thoughts, glad that Heath isn’t in my head to hear them.
Standing here with him under this altar, I can see myself married to him. Before I met Heath, I was certain being remarried was quite possibly the worst thing that could ever happen to me. Now that I see what life can be like with someone who is kind and good, I want it. I want it more than anything. But not with just anyone. I want it with Heath. No one else will do.
“You’re the best man I’ve ever met,” I whisper to him.
He gives me a funny look. “You don’t have to say the vows until the actual ceremony. I’ve written some down if you don’t want to write your own.”
I huff out laughter. “Those aren’t my vows. I just want you to know how I feel about you. I know this is just a job but I’m happy I met you. You’re kind, and wonderful, and—”
Someone clears their throat beside me. Heath and I both turn to the source of the noise. Heath looks annoyed that we were interrupted. The officiant, and everyone else in the wedding party, is looking at us.
“I think everyone knows their places,” the man says.
I blush even though I know no one else heard what I was saying. I was lost in the moment with Heath and didn’t hear a word anyone said. Hopefully I won’t mess anything up on the actual wedding day.
“Great,” Heath says, his mood completely changed from his somewhat quiet, brooding self this morning. Now he seems almost bubbly. “Let’s go to dinner.”
I didn’t know just how badly I wanted to hear those words from Sylph until she said them. Then I realized I’d been craving them since I started developing feelings for her. And the way she looked at me …
I know she feels it too. Maybe not to the extent that I do, but it’s there.
At dinner we sit at our own table facing our guests. I slip my hand underneath the table to touch her knee. I glance over in time to see the corner of her mouth turn up into a smile. Then she spreads her legs. Oh, okay. She wants to play.
I slide my hand up an inch, thankful for the long table cloth surrounding us. I move up another inch and her legs spread wider. Eventually, with one hand, I manage to slip my fingers beneath her skirt and push her panties to the side. Her smooth skin feels delectable, and I’m tempted to crawl beneath the table to taste her.
I’m fingering her with the crowd in front of us. My friends and family are all here, witnessing this debauchery without even knowing it. There’s something exhilarating about doing something so private in an open venue. It brings out the exhibitionist in me. Everyone is too busy talking amongst themselves to even notice that Sylph’s breathing is rushed and she’s biting her lip.
Her pussy is so wet my fingers glide right in and she feels like warm silk.
“Is this thing almost over?” she asks, her voice low and full of want.
“Not even close.”
She lets out a frustrated growl. “I want you so bad,” she says.
“You can have me.”
“I mean now. I want you right now.”
“You can have me right now,” I say.
She gives me the side eye. “How?”
I let my hand slip out from between her legs and lick my fingers clean. She lets out a surprised little chuckle. Her scent is amazing and arousing and her taste is even better. I want more.
I stand and announce that my fiancée and I are going to take a quick tour of the venue. My family looks surprised by our sudden exit, especially since dessert has yet to be served, but I’m about to get the only treat I want.