Page 138 of Wild Then Wed
They’re sitting high and proud in that dress, soft and full and fucking perfect. Like they were made to be held. Bitten. Worshipped a little. They’d fit perfectly in my hands. And all I can think about—stupidly, obsessively—is how good they’d look pressed up against the glass, her dress peeled down to her waist, my mouth on her while she tells me not to stop.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
She smiles and lets out a laugh—small, but easy.
“Thank you,” she says lightly. Then, with a glance at my face, “I knew you were looking at my boobs, Raymond.”
That catches me off guard. I laugh—once—and try not to choke on my own breath.
“I’m sorry—what did you just call me?”
“Your middle name,” she says, clearly pleased with herself. “It’s Raymond.”
“Yeah, and?”
“Just saying,” she shrugs, smug as hell. “It’s very…elderly.”
“Oh yeah? You wanna go there?” I nod toward her. “Your middle name is Margaret.”
She grins. “Raymond and Margaret. We sound like the couple that plays bridge every Thursday and drinks Metamucil before bed.”
I snort. “Speak for yourself. Raymond’s hot.”
“Oh, is it?”
“Absolutely. Margaret? Definitely grandma-ish.”
She narrows her eyes at me, then lifts her glass again, draining what’s left. “At least I’m a grandma with some fairly decent tits. So I’ll take it.”
That earns a full laugh out of me. No chance of swallowing it down.
“What are you doing out here, anyway?” I ask.
She exhales through her nose, then tilts her head toward me without fully looking.
She tips her head back toward the glass doors. “It was just a lot in there.”
I nod. “Yeah. Loud.”
“And I’m almost positive one of the kids stuck their fingers into the frosting before we even cut the cake.”
That makes me huff out a breath. “That checks out. I think that one with the cowlick also double-fisted cupcakes and body-checked Dom near the buffet.”
Her lips twitch. “I knew there was something off with that kid.”
I chuckle and she goes quiet for a beat, her eyes still out toward the dark.
“I know we planned this,” she says. “I know I signed up for it. But it’s kind of crazy, isn’t it?”
“What is?”
She gestures vaguely toward the venue, toward everything. “This.I’m married. And I’ve never even been on a real date.”
That pulls me up short.
I glance over. “Seriously? I thought you dated someone for a year?”
She nods, slowly. “But we kind of just…started out as friends with benefits, and then it turned into a thing, and all our ‘dates’ were always with his friends. Group dinners. Games. Whatever. I don’t think he ever made a reservation just for me.”
