Page 68 of How to Date a Younger Man
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GRIFFIN
Sunlight streams in through the stained-glass windows, pouring a rainbow of colors on us. Standing across from Layne in this church is a truly spiritual experience.
Her long dress touches the floor, and her hair hangs in loose waves over her bare shoulders. Her eyes are bright and clear. She’s unbelievably gorgeous. Gazing at her, sharing that secret smile . . . I may be the happiest man alive.
Well, no. Max is probably the happiest man alive considering he’s about to marry my compassionate, badass, completely self-sufficient sister. Speaking of gorgeous, my sister really pulled herself together. The hours she spent locked away in the dressing room with Layne certainly paid off. She looks like a mermaid princess or something. I don’t know how we can possibly be related.
Max’s best man, Tom, passes him a tissue, and Layne does the same for Kristen. The bride and groom have tears streaming down their faces, almost to a comical degree. I catch Layne’s eye with a look that says what’s going on here? She smiles and shrugs in response. True love, I guess.
When vows and rings are exchanged, the minister finally ends with the classic, “You may kiss the bride.” The kiss is passionate, not as chaste as our parents probably would have liked, which honestly makes it so much better.
I cheer loudly, and soon everyone in the church is clapping and smiling. The music starts, and one by one, all the couples in the bridal party make their way down the aisle and back to the lobby. I manage to steal Layne from Tom, passing off his wife, Liza, to him in a decently executed twirl.
Catching Layne by the wrist, I pull her close to me with a kiss. She outright giggles, a sound I’ve come to know and love. Architecture is great and all, but it’s my life’s passion to make Layne Anderson laugh at least ten times a day.
With all the attention on Max and Kristen, it’s easy for me to pull Layne away to find one of the many dark crevices in the historic hotel where the reception is being held following the ceremony.
Layne follows close behind; we’ve got this quickie operation down to a science at this point. Once voices are far enough away, I push Layne against the wall and press my body into hers. She smirks at me, her eyes still a dazzling green in the dim light of this hall.
I open the door to a nearby conference room, pleased it find it unlocked, and we slip inside.
“Here?” she asks, one eyebrow raised.
“You followed me here.”
“I guess I did.” Layne grinds her hips against the front of my pants, making my already stiff shaft swell even more.
I lean in and plant searing kisses on her neck, pulling the straps of her dress aside to reveal her perfect breasts. I fucking love it when she doesn’t wear a bra. As her hands massage my neck and scalp, mine ghost soft touches across her ribs and pebbled nipples. Her right hand rubs eagerly against my erection, which aches to be released from my pants.
I take a step back from her, undoing my belt, button, and zipper as quickly as I can. I can’t keep my eyes off of her, pressed up against the wall, half-naked and dazed. She’s hotter than ever like this.
Before I can register what’s happening, Layne drops to her knees in front of me, taking me into her hot, wet mouth. I groan, grabbing her hair in my fist. She suddenly stops, looking up at me with a frown.
“Easy on the hair. We’ve still got to take more pictures.”
I let out a breathless laugh. “Sorry.”
She resumes sucking and licking my dick, working me into a state that I’m not sure I’ll recover from if I let her continue for much longer. Goddam.
“Get up here, sexy.” I help Layne to her feet and drop to my knees.
My turn.
I remove her heels one by one, kissing trails up her legs and lifting the skirt of her dress until my tongue finds her slick, sweet center. I draw lazy circles with the tip of my tongue against her clit, increasing intensity with every approving moan. Finally, once her breathing starts to hitch and her fingernails dig into my shoulders through my shirt, I stand. With my hands on her hips, I guide my cock to her center, driving into her at an excruciatingly slow and steady pace. We both groan, the sensation of flesh on flesh almost too much to bear.
I hold her ass up, giving myself the leverage to give her exactly what she needs—my cock deep inside her. She cries out loudly with every thrust, her voice echoing in the empty conference room.
“F—fuck, Griff, fuck,” she moans, her voice breathy and desperate.
“Kiss me.” I groan into her cheek, and her lips find mine in a hungry press.
