“Open,” he orders. I do, and he carefully slips the beads out, dipping to press a chaste kiss to my lips. “Good girl,” he says quietly.
A shiver wracks my whole body. He touches my cheek gently, then turns to Zack.
“How is she looking?” He asks. “Is she ready?”
“I’m drowning down here,” Zack says happily, pulling back to look at us. His face is wet and pink.
I blush. Luke smirks. “Get up,” he orders Zack, who stands, moving aside. Luke takes his place at my back and pushes me more firmly against the mattress, so I’m bent, bare ass in the air. Cold air touches the wetness between my legs, making me shiver.
“Relax,” Luke says in my ear, dragging the string of balls between my folds, getting them slick and wet. “Are you still sore from yesterday, love?”
I nod, the memory of last night sending a flutter through me. I am sore. Sore and sensitive and needy. “I like it,” I say, closing my eyes as he gently pushes the first weighted bead against my entrance. There’s a moment of resistance, and then it slides smoothly inside of me. I clench my thighs, shifting at the odd sensation.
“Okay?” Luke asks. I nod, and he kisses my temple again, pressing the next bead into me. It clinks against the first, adding to the heaviness in my womb, and I flinch slightly. Luke soothes me with another kiss.
Slowly, one by one, all five beads are pushed into my throbbing channel. My body tenses as I start to feel more and more full, the pressure building in me.
When all of the beads are inside me, Luke pulls back and kisses the nape of my neck, carefully tugging down the hem of my dress. “How does it feel?” He asks quietly.
I stand and press my hand to my stomach. It’s an odd feeling. Heavy and full. It’s not enough to make me come, but it’s definitely enough to keep me on edge. It’s like being constantly teased every time I shift my weight. I bite my lip.
“I, um.” My cheeks burn under his intense eyes. My brain feels scrambled. “Good?”
He laughs, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me into a hug. I breathe in the sweet scent of paper and tea.
“How the Hell am I gonna talk to people?” I complain into his shirt. “I can’t even think.”
He pulls himself away from me reluctantly and nods at the high silver heels lying by the bed. “Wear those,” he says, “and I assure you. Neither will we. We can all look stupid together.”
I nod, taking a deep breath. “Right. Okay.” I pick up my clutch and carefully slide my feet into the shoes. “Let’s get going, boys.” Trying to act a lot more put-together than I feel, I push back my shoulders and head to the door.
“Layla?” Luke says after me.
“Mm?” I turn.
He’s watching me with amusement all over his handsome face. His eyes flicker down to my stomach. “What’s your dress made of?”
I blink at him, confused. “Mulberry silk.”
“And what happens when silk gets wet?” He prompts.
“I… it can get discoloured. Sometimes stained. It’s hard to wash. Why?”
“Hm.” He turns to the dresser and pulls something out, throwing it at me. I catch it. It’s a balled-up bit of fabric. “You might want to wear some underwear, then.”
“Aye. Wouldn’t want your pretty dress getting ruined,” Zack agrees, crossing the room towards me and fondly stroking a hand over my behind. The clench between my legs is almost painful, and I have to shift my weight again, wincing as the beads press deep inside me.
This wedding is going to be absolute torture.
FIFTY-FOUR
LAYLA
We arrive at the ceremony with minutes to spare.
The wedding is being held in the hotel’s ballroom; a massive, high-ceilinged hall lined with fat marble pillars. Long swathes of white gauze hang around the ceiling, and huge bunches of pink and cream flowers spill out of patterned vases arranged decoratively through the room. Rows of white chairs have been set up in lieu of pews, and a soft pink carpet has been rolled down the aisle. At the end, an officiant dressed in white is standing behind a fabric-covered table, smiling benignly around at the guests as he flips through a thick book.
I take Luke’s hand, squeezing his fingers. As we walk down the aisle towards an empty row, I see people turning and staring. An old man looks at Luke pityingly, shaking his head. A grandma in a lilac blazer and matching knee-length skirt turns to her neighbour, raising her eyebrows meaningfully.
And then their eyes turn to me.
Cold slips down my spine as the whispers start. As we pass a row full of elderly women, I hear one voice rise up out of the muffled murmuring, cutting through the hush of the hall.
“Very young for him, isn’t she?”
Heat touches my cheeks. I look down, suddenly feeling sick.
There’s a tiny tug at my hand, and I glance up at Luke. His face is creased with concern. “Hey,” he murmurs. “You okay?”
“I feel like everyone is staring at me,” I mutter.
Luke laughs. “They’re staring at me, sweetheart.”
“Mm.” I look around the room. I recognise a few teachers from high school, and my stomach twists uncomfortably.
Luke gives me a level look, then leans in to press a kiss to my cheek. I breathe in a lungful of his aftershave and feel my heart rate slow.
I’m fine. Everything’s fine.
We sit down a few rows from the front. Zack groans as he settles into his tiny chair. “This is discrimination,” he mutters under his breath, shifting to try and get comfortable. “Not everyone’s got legs like a goddamn garden gnome.”
I pinch his side to shut him up, and he gives me a heated look, setting a heavy hand on my thigh, a little too high up to be socially acceptable. My stomach flips. The music starts, and we all stand as the officiant makes a quick speech. I try to pay attention, but I can’t focus. All I can think about is the heavy weight of the balls inside me. It feels ridiculously naughty to have them rubbing inside me while no one else knows. Zack glances at me out of the corner of his eye and smirks.
Finally, the officiant’s speech is over, and we all sit again. I squirm a little in my seat, trying to find a comfortable position as the wedding procession starts.
The groom is first. Josh’s brother, Rob, looks just like him. He’s probably not as tall, but he has the same curling dark hair and sculpted cheekbones. Unlike Josh, though, his face seems to be set in a permanent smile. His brown eyes sparkle as he looks around at the crowd, his hands jammed into his tux pockets. The wedding party steps forward next; a long row of men in dark suits and pretty girls in pastel dresses. I stare as Josh sweeps by, looking delicious in an inky black suit, a dark-haired woman on his arm.
“Amy’s sister,” Luke murmurs into my ear. I shiver as his breath tickles my loose hairs over my skin. “Maid of honour.”
“She’s pretty.”
“Mm.” He shoots me an amused look. “And happily married with three kids. If you were wondering.”
I roll my eyes, but my shoulders ease slightly.
Finally, Amy steps out into the aisle, clinging onto her father’s arm. My stomach sours when I see her. My old headmistress. She looks just the same as she did when I was a kid — the same sweet, doll-like face and pretty features. She reaches the end of the aisle, and Rob takes her hands. She smiles up at him, her eyes fixed on his face. They’re obviously sickeningly in love.
Luke shifts in his chair next to me, clearing his throat, and I reach out, putting my hand in his lap. He takes it, interlacing our fingers together. His face is tight.
On my other side, Zack gives me a wicked look. I raise an eyebrow wordlessly. He leans closer, casually sliding his hand up my knee — and then sticking it up my dress.