“What cake?” I turn my head and capture his lips. It’s awkward from this angle, but I have to kiss him.
“Oh my God. What is taking so long?” Zye’s screech is loud enough to be heard a mile away and gives us just enough time to pull apart before he’s walking through the door with Jane.
“It’s beautiful.” Jane rushes over, and I move out of the way, hiding my condition by leaning into the metal table. How would I explain my erection? She gives me a hug, which is only a side hug because I refuse to turn around.
Zye waves his hands around. “Let’s get this cake served before another disaster happens.”
That takes the better part of an hour. Cutting the cake. Speeches. The first dance. Isaac and Jane look beautiful together. Staring at each other lovingly. This is why I hate weddings. It reminds me of what I had. What I want again.
I glance away and catch Garrett’s eyes on me. He nods to the left, and I follow his gaze. The restroom. They have separate ones for men and women, but they’re single-stall. Perfect for our purposes, but can we risk it? If anyone is watching closely, they’ll notice. I glance around. All eyes are on the happy couple. I give him a quick nod.
He goes first. I wait a few minutes, check that no one is watching, and then knock on the restroom door. I open without waiting for him to answer and lock it behind me.
“Thank fuck.”
Garrett grabs my face and kisses me. And, oh God, it’s as good as I remember. He pushes me against the door as he slips his tongue into my mouth, and I’m lost.
The kiss deepens as Garrett rubs his body against mine, and oh God, I’m not sure I’ll last. Then he’s gone. I open my eyes.Garrett is on the other side of the small restroom, running his hand through his hair.
“Are you…regretting things?”
He turns. “What? No. I— We need to be smart about this.”
“Right.” Smart. As in, this can never work. “Okay then. Have a nice life.”
“Idiot.” He’s in my face, kissing me again, and the only thing I can do is melt against him. Then he steps away, holding my wrist in his hand.
“I mean, not ruin our clothes and have to explain things. Explain this.”
Relief floods through me. “Right. And how do we do that?”
“Carefully. We don’t have much time.” He nods as if answering some unspoken question, and then his eyes are on mine as he cups my face in his hands. “Ever since that day in the storage room, I’ve fantasized about you and that monster cock. I want to see it again. Hold it in my hands. Taste it.” His dark eyes burn into mine. “Can I touch you, Aidyn?”
8
GARRETT
What the fuckam I doing? Admitting to Aidyn that I watched him in the storage room was one thing. But admitting my secret—shameful—desires? I’ve imagined touching him so many times. Mostly at night, when I can pretend it doesn’t matter as long as nobody else knows. And here I am confessing all.
But this is my chance. His eyes are wide. Pupils dilated. Breathing rapid. And a quick glance downward tells me he’s into it. At least his dick is into it. I keep my eyes on his face after that. Not watching his dick harden right there within reach.
“Can I touch you, Aidyn?” I ask again because he seems frozen, and we don’t have much time.
He nods again. “I want that. Your hands on me.” He reaches for his belt, and I step closer and knock his hands away.
I push him against the door. “Stay.”
His lips quirk up, but he doesn’t move. I undo his belt, ignoring the shaking in my hands. The nervousness and excitement skittering up my spine. The button is trickier because my fingers don’t want to work, but I finally get it free and ease his zipper down. Pulling his pants open, I stare at the bulge straining his white underwear. And Jesus, the wet spot… Ialmost give up on my goal and sink to my knees because tasting him suddenly seems important. He growls and grabs my hair, tilting my head until our eyes meet.
“Pull it out, Garrett.”
Oh hell.I nod again, and his hand loosens. I pull his pants and underwear down, and there it is. His thick cock, flushed almost purple and veiny, and so fucking gorgeous. I wrap my hand around his length. It’s hot and so fucking hard.
Gorgeous.
He slumps against the door and puts his hands over his head, surrendering to whatever I want, and God, I’m so fucking turned on. And humbled. Honored. I grab him with one hand and use the other to touch—worship—his cock.
“You’re killing me, darlin’. Please.”
