“Yeah.” And I open the door.
“Oh, god, don’t tell me y’all were … I told you he’d go crazy over that dress and …”
I cut her off when I see Shannon standing there. “That’s enough, Ms. Nosy.”
Drew grins and winks at me and leads me out of the bathroom. Then the photographer grabs us and it’s all about the pictures for a while. We take the church shots and then all the outdoor shots, and I’m glad because it takes my mind off of everything else.
The reception is a hit. Two things Drew and I insisted on during the planning stages were a big band, and a huge bar with anything and everything anyone wanted to drink. The rest—we really didn’t give a damn about. We figured we wanted a party where everyone danced and had a great time, and the way to do that was with an awesome band and great drinks. We have succeeded. People keep telling us this is the best wedding reception they’ve ever attended. My feet will be killing me tomorrow, but I couldn’t care less. Drew and I fly out on Monday to wherever his secret honeymoon is. I won’t be walking anywhere far, I’m sure.
We don’t leave the party until the very end and I hate to say goodbye to all our friends. But I’m eager to get to our hotel. We’re staying in a suite in one of the hotels right here in downtown Charleston. A horse and carriage await to take us to our room. When we walk in, a bottle of champagne sits in a bucket of ice and Drew and I look at each other and make faces. The last thing we either want or need is more alcohol.
“You know what I’d love right now?” he asks.
“A wedding night blow job?”
“Well, that too, but I’m starving. I didn’t eat but a bite or two. I’d love a pizza.”
“Oh, me too. I’m famished myself.”
He grins, grabs the phone, and starts ordering all this food from room service.
“Why didn’t you order a pizza delivery?”
“I wanted variety. And I’ll have my blow job for dessert. They’re bringing a can of whipped cream because I ordered strawberries.”
“They are not.”
He looks like that little boy again. “Yes, they are.”
Sure enough, when the room service man arrives, pushing a cart laden with our food, there is a can of whipped cream on it. But I don’t see any strawberries. I ask Drew about it. He’s a bit tipsy.
“Oh, that’s right. I ordered brownie cake instead.”
“That’s even better!”
We dive into the array of food, from pizza to burgers, fries, and chicken wings, until we’re stuffed.
“Don’t forget the dessert,” Drew reminds me.
“Oh, you can have the brownie thingy. I have something else in mind.”
I crawl between his legs, tug his boxers down with a little help from him, take that can of whipped cream, and make an artful creation out of his cock. He’d started eating the brownie, but after a bite, got very distracted by what I was doing.
“You like?” I ask.
“Um, I love.” He has his husky, sexy voice going now.
I eye his whipped cream covered cock, trying to decide if I should start at the top or the bottom, when he says, “No hands.”
“Huh?”
“Don’t use your hands. Mouth only.”
“Is that a challenge?”
“Not really. I just want to watch you suck me off with your hands behind your back.”
“Can I touch Louise?”
“Oh, no. Only I get to touch Louise.”
“Hmm. Well, then. I’d better hurry it up, because Louise is getting impatient.”
I dip my head down and lick the tip of his cock, swirling my tongue about the tip, sucking off the cream. “Yummy, I love this.”
“Cate, stop teasing.” I notice his hands clenching the table.
“No teasing. Just sucking.”
And I go back to work. This really is tasty. Lick, swirl, suck until all the cream is gone and now I take him deep. He groans. Loudly. And I want this to go fast because I need some relief, too. But he has other ideas.
“Enough.” He pulls me to my feet and lays me down on the coffee table, pulling off my thong. It’s a sexy, white satin number. Once I’m bared to him, he takes that can of whipped cream and coats my pussy with it.
“My turn.” Then his tongue starts lapping up the cream as he murmurs his pleasure. I’m thinking we’ll have to buy this stuff by the case. “Whipped cream is good, but it doesn’t taste nearly as good as you, Cate.” My legs are spread and my feet rest on his shoulders. When he spears me with two fingers, I cry out, “Ahh.”
“You want this?”
“No, I want you.”