Page 80 of Just the Tipsy
“What’s wrong with that, Waylon?” Delia asks, exasperated. She looks surprisingly like Ash right now. “Volunteering in town isn’t that big of a deal.”
“It’s nothing,” Waylon says, sipping his water. “It’s fine.”
Waylon and his mom exchange a long, silent glance, and eventually we’re all left with air thick with tension. Did something happen with them that I’m not aware of, or is Waylon just tired of being prodded?
“Let’s welcome the new Mr. and Mrs. Stryker!” The DJ yells into the mic, snapping us out of it.
Everyone cheers as Wes and Rose come out and sit at the head table, smiling and holding hands. The meal starts being served, saving us from awkwardness. Delia switches over to talking about other things like everything it took to plan the wedding, and now I understand why Rose was crumbling under stress. Delia never does anything halfway, and I can see how that could wear on someone if they were constantly pushed to do more.
Waylon’s hand finds my leg closer to the end of the meal, his thumb making little circles just inside of them. My dress hits just above the knee, so his skin is warm on mine, stirring some feelings that I probably shouldn’t be having right in front of his family.
But it does give me an idea to fulfill a bucket list item.
“C’mon,” I say once the last course is over.
“Where?” He takes my hand when I extend it to him. “Hopefully not dancing yet.”
“Just somewhere private.”
The hall looks much more clinical than the rest of the barn, so I’m guessing it’s where catering and other vendors do everything. The space is much quieter than the main hall, but the sounds of partying and music drift toward us.
“Bianca…” His tone is a playful warning.
“Yes…?” I glance at the doors as we walk down the hall. One’s clearly where the food is being made, and the others seem to be in use.
“Are you planning to check something off your bucket list right now?” he asks.
“Maybe.” I squeeze his hand.
I absolutely am. He’s done most of the initiating, and I want to be bold for once. I feel safe enough with him to take risk, even if he’s had his moments of being closed off.
I try the handle of a door labeled “storage”. It opens easily, revealing a supply closet, with shelves of paper towels and toilet paper along one wall. It’s a bit dingy but it’s mostly private and clean.
He pulls me to him and kisses me before I can kiss him, and I press myself against him as much as I can. The heat of his body is addictive, as is the feeling of his lips on mine. It doesn’t even matter that we’re in a closet. It might even be better because of where we are — we’re out of sight but someone could walk in. My heart is racing, the fear and adrenaline rush mingling.
He scoops me up and sits down in the one little seat in the room, resting me on his lap.
“Show me your panties,” he says, pushing the bottom of my dress up.
I help him pull the dress up all the way, showing him the blue sheer panties I chose. He lets out a hum of appreciation andpulls the panties to the side, his fingers finding my clit. I rest my forehead against his as he teases me, our breath mingling.
“I wanted to do this the moment I saw you in this dress,” he says, kissing my exposed shoulder. “It’s like you were made to tempt me.”
I tilt my head back so he can kiss my neck more. I want to be naked, to have him touch my bare skin everywhere, but getting butt naked in a place where I might need to quickly dress is a bit further than I’d like to go.
I reach down between us and start to undo his pants. His cock is already straining the fabric so much that it looks like it’s leaping into my hand when he’s finally free. He lets out a soft breath when I grip his cock at the base.
“So hard,” I say softly, stroking his cock up and down. “All for me?”
“Always for you.” He cups the back of my neck, avoiding the elaborate bun my hair is in, and pulls me into a hot kiss.
My toes curl between the kiss and how he’s playing with my clit. I have to bury my face into his neck, biting my tongue so I don’t moan too loudly. I don’t know if people are wandering the halls, but letting myself get as loud when we’re alone probably isn’t the best idea.
I lift up and guide his fingers toward my entrance. They slip right in, making a slick sound.
“Greedy girl,” he says with a smile. My eyes flutter closed when he strokes the upper wall of my pussy, making me clench around him.
I spread the bead of precum over the tip of his cock and it twitches in my hand. I’ve gotten to know his body just as much as he’s gotten to know mine, and I can tell when he’s getting close to the edge. But I need him inside of me.
