by Penny Wylder
It seems to work because when I step back she looks bewildered and ready to flee the scene.
“Um,” she says and looks at Heath. He shrugs and smiles at me because he knows what I’m doing and seems amused by it.
Arora is quick to recover and plasters the fake smile back on her face. “I was hoping to take you dress shopping. You haven’t found your wedding gown yet, have you?”
“Not yet, but I can’t go without my best friend. She’s my maid of honor,” I say.
Though I haven’t yet asked Mandi to be the maid of honor, it seems a given, fake relationship or not.
“Text her,” Arora says.
“Right now?”
“Of course, silly. You have to get your dress as soon as possible before all the good ones have been taken.”
I look at Heath for help. He shrugs like he doesn’t know what to do either.
So I furiously text Mandi in the hopes she’ll come with us and defuse this bomb. I tell her that I’m about to go dress shopping with Heath’s sister who may or may not be Satan herself. Mandi texts back that she wishes she could but is busy with work.
What the hell? She got me into this mess. She was supposed to be here for me when I needed her, but it seems like she’s been avoiding me.
I take a deep breath and steel myself. “She can’t make it. Looks like we’re on our own.”
Arora gives me a predatory grin and says, “Perfect. I have a car waiting for us downstairs.”
I try on all the dresses that Arora picks out for me. They are all beautiful, but none of them feel right. This isn’t your typical dress shop where you can find something affordable yet still beautiful. This is a place where royalty would shop if they were getting married. Everything is custom made, one-of a kind, couture. They serve champagne and cater to our every desire. I’m thankful for the alcohol. It settles my nerves a little. Very little.
Arora asks me a lot of questions. It’s starting to feel more like an interrogation than a dress fitting. I’m careful to keep to the story that was laid out for me by Heath. I don’t think she’s buying any of it.
I try on the last dress in the stack. It’s beautiful. All of them are. But this one is especially beautiful. Hand beaded, high neck with lace, but short capped sleeves. Very modern, like nothing I’ve ever seen before, which must be why the price tag is so steep. And though I love the way it looks, and it fits me like a glove, it still doesn’t feel right. I’m not sure if anything will.
“How did you two meet?” Arora asks as the lady helping us shows me tiaras and veils.
I tell her about walking the dogs in the park, how they got off leash and how Heath saved the day. My mind starts to wander back to that day when Heath ate from the hotdog cart after refusing to at first, and how he loved it so much he finished mine. He was so stiff and awkward at first, and I wasn’t sure I was going to like him when we first met, but then, seemingly out of nowhere, he charmed me. Then there was that kiss … It was the kind of kiss girls dream of.
As I’m telling the story, I realize I’m smiling, and I hear the whimsy in my voice. When I finish telling Arora about how Heath and I met, her eyebrows are raised. Is that surprise I see, and maybe a bit of amusement?
“A literal blushing bride,” she says. I look down at my chest and see that I’m flushed. Heath does that to me. Apparently, so does the thought of him. “That’s some story. It’s very romantic.”
“It was,” I say, and it’s not a lie.
“Sounds nothing like my brother. He’s normally such a stiff.”
I don’t know why, but her comment puts me on edge and I feel the need to defend Heath.
“Maybe you don’t know him as well as you think you do.”
His whole family lives out of the country, and from the sound of it, they don’t come to visit that often. How would she know how he acts with someone he cares about?
She has a slight grin on her face and I think she purposefully tried to rattle me. It worked. At this point I don’t care about the dress anymore. I just want to get out of here.
“This dress is fine,” I say.
Arora tells the woman helping us that we’ll take it. I don’t even feel bad that it cost more than I earned in the last two years combined.
Heath is gone when I get back to the apartment. I go into my room where there’s a tall mirror. I want to see the dress without Arora there judging me and being suspicious. Even though the dress is for a fake wedding, I want to feel right wearing it. I get it on, but there are so many different buttons and hooks in the back that I can’t do it myself. Still, just holding it up against me, looking in the mirror, it feels all wrong.
I close my eyes and sigh, frustrated. When I open my eyes again, I see Heath’s reflection in the mirror. It gives me a start. He looks equally as stunned. He’s staring at the dress. I look back at my own reflection, trying to see what he sees. The only thing that feels right about this whole thing is Heath. That’s when I realize that my feelings for him have tipped past the point of no return. For me this has become more than a working relationship and it’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have kissed him, or started giving him a massage. I shouldn’t have put my mouth on him last night.
I shouldn’t have done any of those things, but I can bring myself to regret it. I now know why the dress doesn’t feel right. It’s because I don’t want it to be a dress for a fake marriage with Heath. I want what he and I have to be real.
But it’s not real and it can’t be. I’m here for a job. Heath doesn’t want me. Mandi’s words swirl around in my head about how I’m not good enough. I’ll never be the kind of girl a guy like him goes for. I don’t have the wealth or the status. I’m bad for the image he seems to care so much about.
“You look incredible,” he says.
I feel the pressure of tears behind my eyes. I can’t cry in front of him.
“I have to go,” I say, but when I try to leave, my feet get tangled up in the train and I fall to my knees. I’m not hurt, but I stay there anyway, fighting tears and this new emotional sandbag I’ve brought on myself.
Heath comes to me and kneels by my side. “Are you hurt?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“What’s wrong?” he asks when I cover my face.
“I hate this dress.”
“Why? You look beautiful. You’re the prettiest bride I’ve ever seen.”
His words aren’t helping. They make me want to cry even more. I laugh to keep from crying. “This is all so stupid,” I say under my breath. I don’t think he heard my words. If he did, he doesn’t ask what I mean by it.
I reach back behind me to try to undo the buttons. This dress wasn’t as hard to put on as it is to take off. Once I undo the buttons, I realize the zipper is stuck. Jesus Christ, is this a dress or a straightjacket? It’s starting to feel like both.
“Let me help you,” Heath says, and wiggles the zipper until it comes loose. He unzips it and pulls the dress off my shoulders.
He then helps me to stand up. When I do, the dress slips down and pools at my feet. I’m not wearing a bra, or anything else except a pair of thong underwear.
His gaze starts at my feet and slowly—very slowly—takes in every line, every curve of my body until our eyes meet. He looks at me with unfiltered lust. He doesn’t even try to hide the fact that he’s hard and I do nothing to hide my nakedness from him.
Taking a step forward, he takes my shoulders and turns me away from the mirror to face him. His eyes are bright with want and something more than just lust, maybe. Or maybe I just want him to feel the same way that I do so I’m imagining things.
He caresses my shoulders and moves his hands down my arms. It tickles and feels amazing at the same time. Then he kisses me. Not a sweet, teasing kiss. It’s the kind that demands all of my attention, and lets me know he’s not messing around. This kiss speaks more than words ever could and makes promises about what’s to come.
His lips move down to my neck. I tilt my head b
ack, giving him as much room as he needs. His tongue is so soft and warm. I start to imagine what it would feel like on other parts of my body. That thought sends a shiver through me.
“Are you cold?” he says.
I shake my head. “The opposite.” I pull my fingers through his hair. “I’m so hot right now. I want you.”
His lips crash against mine and our mouths tangle in a passionate kiss. His hands wander to my breasts where he cups them and pinches my nipples between his fingertips. The sensation flares through my nerve endings until I feel every part of me lighting up. I moan and deepen our kiss. When we part, he wastes no time locking his lips onto one of my breasts while his hand discovers the other one. He suckles and bites, giving both pleasure with tinges of pain, just enough to make things interesting and keep my body at attention.
His hands explore every part of me meticulously as if he were trying to memorize me by touch. He parts with my breast just long enough for him to take off his shirt. I don’t get the chance to admire his cut chest before he latches back on, but this time on the other breast that hasn’t received its fair amount of attention.
My pussy aches for him. I don’t know how much longer I can bear to not have him inside of me. But then again, what he’s doing to my breasts is fucking brilliant, and I don’t want him to stop doing that either.
I help him out of his pants and boxers and slip off my panties. Now we’re both naked and on the same playing field. He pulls in a sharp breath when I grip him. Then I slowly begin to stroke.
“I want you inside of me,” I beg.
He pulls his mouth away from me. When our eyes meet, there’s no longer any hesitation there. “Not yet.”
“But—”
“Get your dildo,” he says.
I look at him, shocked. “How do you know about my dildo?”
His lips form a teasing smile. “I came in here to check on you this morning. You were asleep. I saw it on your dresser.”
I’m too turned on to be embarrassed. I walk over to the night stand, grab it out of the drawer and come back to him with it. The way he’s looking at me, I know I’m in for the ride of my life.
8
Heath
I rub her clit and finger her silky pussy, making sure she’s good and ready for the dildo I hold in my hands. Her juices run down my fingers, into my palm, and down my wrist. She lets out the sexiest moan I’ve ever heard.
“Bend over,” I say.
She starts to bend over.
“No, in front of the mirror.”
She stands in front of the mirror and watches me with sultry, hooded eyes. I take her by the hips and turn her so her ass is facing the mirror.
“On your knees,” I say.
She smiles and I can tell she likes where this is going. She kneels down and bends over until the side of her face is against the carpet.
“Can you see yourself?” I ask. My cock pulses at the sight of her splayed and open to me. I love that she’s so confident and there’s not on ounce of self-consciousness while being exposed and vulnerable.
She moves her head so she can watch. “Yes,” she says, panting.
She looks fucking amazing at this angle, and by the way she’s moving her hips to get the best possible angle, I think she knows it. Her pussy is satin-pink, wet, and slightly gaping, her asshole a perfect little knot.
I spread her folds apart, which causes her to drip on the carpet and I nearly come at the sight of it. I don’t think I’ve ever been with a girl who’s gotten this wet before.
She moans. “Fuck me, please.” When I put the head of the dildo against her opening she begs for it. She gasps when I slowly push it inside of her. It’s halfway in when I finally meet some resistance. She moves her hips and it goes further in and her moans fill the room. I work it in and out of her, enjoying the show of filling her up.
I kneel behind her and suck on her clit while the dildo is inside of her and listen to her chant, “Oh, fuck, yes, yes, yes.”
“I want you inside of me,” she says.
I want to fuck her more than anything, but when we do, I don’t want it to be under the weight of this fake marriage.
“Not until the wedding night,” I tease.
“I thought you weren’t old fashioned.”
“I changed my mind.”
“Then I want you in my mouth,” she says.
She rises so she’s on her hand and knees. She grabs the dildo from me and starts working it inside of her with one hand while keeping her balance with the other. I stand in front of her. She opens her mouth and I slip the head of my cock between her full wet lips. I smooth the hair away from her eyes. She looks up at me, watching my face as she gives me head. She does this thing with her tongue where she swirls it around the head and the sensitive under side that makes it nearly impossible to keep from blowing my load. It takes a small miracle to hold it in. I’m not coming until she gets hers.
I force myself to keep my eyes open to see the show, but my body just wants to give into this amazing sensation.
If this were real. If we were real, this could be our life. I could be fucking the most beautiful, fun, amazing girl I’ve ever met on a regular basis. She would be mine.
The sounds of her moans change, becoming desperate. She works the dildo faster, her hand a blur in the mirror as she fucks herself. I know she’s close. So am I. She’s an expert at this, and I still can’t believe I’ve lasted this long.
One more thrust into her mouth and I explode.
Her whole body starts to shake, and I watch, enraptured as she’s racked by orgasm contractions. The dildo slips out, covered in her cum, her pussy raw from friction. She turns over and lays on her back. I lay next to her, utterly spent.
We’re both out of breath, but quiet and content. It was incredible. It’s been so long since I’ve been with a woman I’ve actually cared about, that I’d forgotten how amazing it could feel with the right person.
“You’re incredible,” I tell her.
She gives me a lust-drunk smile. “So are you.”
I roll over onto my side and kiss her shoulder. I glance over at the dress piled on the floor in the corner. “Why do you hate the dress?” I ask.
She glances over at the white pile of lace and satin and cringes.
“I guess that’s probably not how I should be treating a dress that cost a fortune, but right now I’m having a hard time convincing myself to care.” She looks at me with those beautiful eyes and sex-flushed face. There’s still beads of sweat dotting her forehead. She shrugs. “It felt wrong, picking it out, since this is all fake.”
Even though I’m very aware that our arrangement isn’t the real thing, it still burns to hear her say it. I try not to let it affect me, but it’s impossible. The smile I’d had plastered to my face just moments ago slips away. Now I couldn’t force a smile even if I wanted to.
“It’s fine,” she says quickly, and I know she sees the change in me. “I’ll wear it and do the job.”
I stare up at the ceiling. “If you’d like a different dress, feel free to get it. I’ve left my black card on the kitchen counter for all of your needs while you’re here.” I stand up and put my clothes on. I can’t be here right now. “I have to get back to work.”
I leave without another glance.
9
Heath
Sitting at my desk, there’s a pile of work in front of me that needs to get done, but I can’t concentrate. Sylph’s words haunt me: ‘It felt wrong, picking out the dress, since this is all fake’. Maybe the marriage is fake but it isn’t all fake. At least it’s not for me.
But maybe it is for her. I keep asking myself, if this is just a job for her then why has she been intimate with me? The only answer I have come up with is because she must have feelings for me. But now I wonder if maybe she just enjoys sex. I can’t fault her for that. I too enjoy sex. But with Sylph it’s more than that. Now I’m starting to realize it may be one sided.
I shouldn’t ha
ve walked out on her the way I did. She’ll think I’m mad.
Sighing, I know there’s nothing I can do about that now. There’s only a few more hours until I have to go meet up with my family.
10
Sylph
Heath’s family hates me. It’s been several days since we met them for dinner and they haven’t made any effort to meet up with me or get to know me since. I guess I should be thankful for that because they are awful. Not his mom, and I guess not his dad, really, since he didn’t really say much throughout the dinner, but the twins are the worst. I knew Arora was going to be a handful after dress shopping with her, but when she and Theo get together, they are a freaking tornado. The way they deliver underhanded insults is a true talent because while they’re tearing you apart, it feels strangely like a compliment and I never really felt the digs until later when I laid in bed and thought about them.
Heath was mostly quiet through dinner with his family, only speaking up on occasion to tell the twins to back off. If he was wanting to sell the relationship between us, he was doing a poor job of it. He did nothing but brood the whole night, then, when we got home, he went straight to his room and didn’t come out the rest of the night. I’d wanted to knock on his door to see if he wanted company, but had the distinct feeling his broodiness had something to do with me.
It’s Friday evening and close to time to leave for the rehearsal. I go to Heath’s room and knock on the door. We haven’t really spoken since we had dinner with his parents—not in any real way. Not like we had been before that.
He opens the door, a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair wet from his shower. There’s still a few specks of shaving cream on his chin and the sides of his face. He wipes them off with a hand towel as he stands there waiting to hear why I’ve knocked.
