"Hello! Angela! Are you even listening to me?" Marti took her chance to exert her superiority over me.
"Sorry," I mumbled. "What do you want me to do?"
"I want you to start putting together the programs." She pulled out several large boxes and slammed them down on the coffee table. "The theme is message in a bottle, to go along with our song."
"Your song is message in a bottle? As in I'll send an SOS to the world...?"
Great, now I was going to have that song stuck in my head.
"Shut up, Angela. When you finally meet a man willing to stick around you, then you can choose your song and you can judge all you like. Until then, keep your mouth shut and your judgments to yourself."
"I'm sorry. I don't mean to judge, it's just. It just seems like a weird song for a wedding is all. So how do these programs work?"
"Okay. Take these bottles, and you use a funnel," she grabbed a bottle and the funnel so she could show me what she wanted as she talked. "Put in one scoop of sand, then you roll the paper program here up and tie a ribbon around it. Try not to drip on it. Then just slip the paper into the bottle and top it off with a cork. Like. This."
She held up the completed bottle with a triumphant smile.
"How are people supposed to know that these are the programs?" I asked.
She grunted and threw another box into my gut. "Don't throw your attitude at me." She scoffed and ran out of the room.
I hadn't meant it to come out like an attitude.
So I draped the kitchen towel out over the chair and took a seat. I set the materials across the table similar to an assembly line. And got ready to attack this chore with vigor.
I figured the faster I could get these done, then the faster I could get Marti and her pips out of the house and the faster I could go to bed.
I couldn't wait until the wedding was over. I hoped she was going far, far away for a honeymoon that would last for a lifetime.
***
I could have made the walk to Grams's shed blindfolded. So walking there in the middle of a dark and stormy night didn't bother me at all. I stepped inside and turned on the light. Rummaging through the various tool boxes, drawers, and shelves looking for the tools I would need.
"Hey," I heard Marti call out from behind me.
"What the hell are you doing out here?" I asked without turning around. "Aren't you afraid you're dress is going to get ruined?"
She chuckled and walked closer to me. Kicking the door shut behind her. "It's been a while since we saw each other and I wanted to check on you to make sure how you were doing. I was excited when I found out you were going to be here this weekend."
"Yea, well, I think you're probably the only one." I grabbed the smallest hand saw I could find that might cut through some of the branches. When I turned around, Marti was standing right up next to me. Close enough I could feel her breath on my skin. "What the hell are you doing?" I asked.
She smirked and ran her fingers along my chest. "I dunno. I just...thought that you might be here to pick things up where we left off? You know? Just one last hurrah before I get married."
"Aren't you--." I started to protest.
Her tongue pressed into my mouth and licked mine. Crushing the words of my protest before they could reach her ears. She pressed her body closer to mine. Leaning up on her tip toes. Even through our clothes, I could feel her nipples harden and scratch against my chest.
My cock betrayed me and hardened against her tight stomach.
I pulled my kiss away from her and glared into her eyes. "What the hell is this?"
She bit her bottom lip and attacked the button on my jeans. "Oh come on, Tim. You know damn well you want me."
"Marti. You're engaged. Engaged. Do you get that?"
Her hands dipped into my pants and found my cock.
I closed my eyes and groaned.
"You see. You can't say no to me," she whispered as she wrapped her hands around my cock and pumped.
Back and forth.
Her hand was surprisingly strong.
"You have to stop," I whispered and fell back against the counter.
"Oh I don't think so," she whispered and grabbed my hand. Wrapping my fingers around her perky, perfect breast.
I flicked.
Fondled.
Groaned against her grinding body as she continued to work my cock.
She buried her mouth in my neck and moaned as I tweaked and squeezed her nipple.
She brought her hand back out of my jeans and grabbed my other hand. Pulling it down into her pants and pressing my fingers against her dripping pussy. Her fingers dug into my shoulders as she grinded her hips against my hand.
It would have been so easy for me to get caught back up in her. The room filled with her scent. And her pussy was wet and waiting for me to satisfy her. And now my cock was throbbing in frustration. But memories of the last time I was caught up in this woman flooded my thoughts.
This was going to be a mistake.
I pulled away from her kiss again and started to pull my hand away from her pants. "Come on Marti. Joke's over. This is enough."
"God, no," She grabbed my wrist and held it in place. Rubbing her clit along the length of my fingers and using my hand as her own personal toy.
"Stop," I said again and pulled my hand.
She tightened her grip and rubbed harder. Her moans growing more intense as she pleasured herself.
"Damn it, Marti," I yelled as I grabbed her wrist and peeled it away from my hand. I pushed her back away from me and straightened out my jeans. Trying to hide the effect she had on my cock.
"What the hell is the matter with you?" She demanded.
"Are you serious, Marti? They called me a pervert. That was my name and title for years. Pervert Timmy or Timmy the Pervert. They wanted to send me to jail. They accused me of raping you."
Her eyes darted around the shed. I wished I could see something on her face that said she was sorry. Or that she had gone through something similar. But instead her face was blank.
"I'm sorry."
"You're sorry? That's the best you have for me?"
"Oh come on. I told them the truth."
"How long did it take you to get over yourself enough to tell them the truth? A week? A year?"
"I don't know. I was mad. I was in love with you and you wanted nothing to do with me. I was hurt."
"You were a kid. You didn't know what love is. And from the looks of it, you still don't." I grabbed the saw and started back out toward the driveway.
"Wait," Marti called out to me again.
I ignored her.
"Tim. Please. Wait."
I turned around and glared at her.
"You're right. There's nothing I can do to make up for what I did. But you should know that I never said rape."
I glanced around the yard. Flexing my grip around the saw.
"I swear. Tim. I never said rape. All I said was that you touched me. They assumed rape from there."
"And you let them?"
She bit her tongue. For a moment, I thought she wore the look of regret I had always wanted to see plastered across her face. "Well, I didn't want to get in trouble. And I was mad that you broke everything off. That you said we couldn't do that anymore. So when they said they were going to send you to that school for troubled youths, I was afraid they'd do the same to me and I had just made captain of the dance team. I couldn't afford to have to change schools. And there was no reason for both of us to go to a school like that. But then when I heard you were coming to the wedding, I thought you'd forgiven me."
The look of regret faded faster than I thought possible.
"Right," I scoffed. "Let's make one thing clear. I'm not here for you. And I could give a damn about your wedding. I'm here for Grams. Got it? You can just stay away from me."
Before giving her a chance to answer, I stormed away toward the driveway to start working on clearing as many cars as I could. Starting with hers.
&n
bsp; I wanted Marti out of the house as fast as possible.
***
Everyone rushed to the door when Marti walked in dripping wet.
"Oh my God. Marti. What happened?"
"Nothing," she said. "I just thought I would go check the backyard to see if there was anything that would need to be done back there for the weekend. And I was trying to visualize where we would put everything. You know? Like where to put the dance floor and stuff. And that got me thinking about the first dance as husband and wife which made me just so happy. It brought tears to my eyes."
I rolled my eyes into the box of sand still sitting in front of me. I was only about halfway done with putting the programs together. And already at my fill with listening to Marti's stories.
"Okay," I said as I stood up. "I know you wanted these all done first. But I really need to take a shower and get dried up and stuff. Otherwise you are going to have one sick bridesmaid at your wedding. So if it's all right with everyone, I am just going to head upstairs and hop in the shower. Okay?"
Marti glared at me. “Jeez, Angela. If you didn't want to help that's all you had to say."
My eyebrows furled. I was completely confused by her reaction. "I never said I didn't want to help. Just that I needed to take a break and take a shower. What the hell is wrong with you?"
"What's wrong with me is that you can just waltz in here late with some sob story about how you rear ended some guy and then got upset when he was angry with you about it. Then you're skipping out on helping me. Again. Maybe if you had been helping me with these plans all along then you wouldn't need to be here stuffing programs at the last minute like this. Huh?"
I held my breath and glanced around at the rest of the family. Waiting for one of them to say something. Anything. Put her in her place. Or at least tell her to calm down.
Nothing.
I nodded my head and put the funnel back into the box of sand. "Look," I said. "I'll stay up all night if I have to. We all want to see your wedding go off without a hitch. Okay? We are all here to see you happy. I just need a hot shower so I can be happy and clean while I see you happy."
I faked my best smile and turned on my heels to head up the stairs.
Upstairs, I stopped at the linen closet and grabbed a couple towels and then shut myself in to the bathroom and stared into the mirror.
I was a mess.
Mascara running down my face. My wavy hair hung limp along the sides of my face.
I took a deep breath and grabbed my toothbrush. Going over all the events of the night. It had been one hell of a day.
First, Michael broke up with me. Right there in the middle of my shift. My first thought was to try to work things out with him. But when I followed him back into the servers' lounge, he was grinding against Kirsten on the wall.
Then the accident. The threats against my life.
Then the hero.
Oh, God. That's right. I had a hero. A tall, muscular stranger who rode up on his bike and saved the day. And my life. I imagined what it would be like to ride off into the distance on that bike. To wrap my arms around those muscular shoulders. To feel those rock hard abs beneath his tee shirt.
Maybe even let my hands wander down further.
I opened my eyes to find my reflection staring back at me. Biting her bottom lip as she rubbed her fingers against my shirt and hardened my nipples.
Nipples that were now poking right through my top.
My pussy lit up.
This is stupid, I thought. No way that's every going to happen.
That's what makes it a fantasy, I argued. No one has to know.
CHAPTER THREE
I walked up the stairs, contemplating on which room to claim when the bathroom light caught my eye.
What's this? I thought as I tiptoed closer to the cracked door.
The angle was perfect.
There she was. Angela. Staring at herself in the bathroom mirror. The mascara running down her cheeks made her look deflated. Almost broken. But as she peeled that ridiculous cheerleader uniform off her wet skin, she was anything but deflated.
Her breasts bounced upon their release. Her nipples peeked through the lace of her bra.
She turned her shoulder toward the mirror. Eyeing herself and stretching as she reached behind to unsnap her bra.
What the hell was I doing? Watching her? My cock hardened. Fighting against his denim prison and forcing me to adjust my stance.
But I couldn't take my eyes away.
Her nipples glared into the mirror. She cupped her breasts, trying to calm them down. Then gave up. Admiring her curves.
Angela looked down at her body. She pinched her eyes shut and bit her bottom lip.
Oh God. What was she thinking of?
Who was she thinking of?
I held my breath.
She caressed her nipple. Rolling it between her fingers. Massaging. Rubbing. Soft moans escaped her lips as she threw her head back. Who did she imagine was touching her?
Her other hand slid along her curves. Gliding up her side and settling on her other breast. She squeezed and played with them. Licking her lips. Licking her fingers. Wetting the hard, sensitive skin of her nipples.
She turned her back to the mirror. I jumped behind the door, afraid she would catch me watching. Instead, she released another moan. Chills spiked up and down my spine. I peered back around.
Her eyes were still closed. She massaged her breast with one hand and slid her other hand down between her legs. I caught myself thinking little commands. As though telepathically telling her what to do.
I adjusted my jeans around my cock as she slipped the skirt over her hips and let it glide to the floor. All that was left were her panties. Those wet panties clinging to her skin with every fiber.
Take them off I commanded silently. I rubbed the edge of my swollen cock as she dipped her fingers into her panties. Oh God, take them off.
It worked.
She leaned back and peeled her panties away from her. Dropping them into the growing pile of clothes on the bathroom floor. And just like that, she was naked.
And writhing.
Her eyes closed as she fondled and groped herself. Her hard nipples begging for attention. The musk of her juices drifting through the door. She glided her fingers around her clit. Rocking her hips as she pleasured herself.
My jeans grew tighter around my cock. I would need to do something soon. I closed my eyes and tried to will it under control. But instead, her image floated into my mind.
Her writhing, beautiful image.
I opened my eyes again. She bit her quivering lip. Her groans grew louder. More desperate.
***
It was an odd feeling. My cold skin felt hot in my hands. My nipples ached. I squeezed and rolled them in my fingers. Closing my eyes and imagining his hands around me. Why was I thinking about Timothy? Oh God. His large, warm hands. His thick biceps wrapped around my waist. Carrying me to wherever he wanted to do whatever he wanted.
And I was pretty sure I'd let him.
I rocked my hips again. Grinding my hot pussy against my fingers. Wishing I had a better angle to get in deeper. My pussy throbbed with anticipation. I was wet and ready. My core trembled. I threw my head back. I was so close. The heat built up deep within.
That's when it happened. A large, hot hand grabbed my side and pulled me back.
Had I forgotten to lock the door?
Oh God.
"Shh," he whispered into my ear. His other hand glided down toward my core.
Oh, God, yes. I thought.
I moved my hand out of the way as his thick fingers found my clit. They swirled and danced around my opening as I pressed my body back against him. Even through his jeans, his large cock pulsed against my backside.
My pussy tightened as he plunged his fingers deep inside. His thumb twirled against my clit as his fingers drew back. Then in again.
And again.
His other hand stayed wrapped around my ches
t from behind. Pinning me back into him. He rocked his hips against me. I fought the urge to moan as my core heated up.
"Shhh," he whispered again. This time his hand slid up toward my mouth. He slipped one finger in between my lips while his other hand continued to plunge in and out of my pussy. I wasn't sure what to do with it, so I sucked. I sucked and swirled my tongue around that finger until he pushed it in deeper. His hot breath tickled the back of my neck. He grazed his lips up to my ear lobe. Breathing. Grinding.
One hand deep inside my pussy and the other being sucked in my hot mouth. I grabbed his elbows and pushed him in deeper. And I squeezed. Every muscle in my body tensed up around him.
My knees weakened as the trembles built up. I stopped sucking on the finger in my mouth and crumbled to the floor, expecting him to release me. Instead, he pressed his fingers in deeper. Harder. Allowing his hand to ride the waves of my orgasm. His unrelenting fingers. Still rubbing and grinding. My orgasm took over. I shook and grinded against his fingers until I didn't have the strength to keep thrusting.
Finally, he pulled his fingers back. I sank to all fours and stared at the floor, trying to catch my breath. His hands gripped my hips. His cock still bulging from its confines inside his jeans.
I wondered if he was going to release it. If he would fill me and let me ride his cock. He gripped my hips. Rubbing them firmly beneath his palms. I readied myself for him. Wondering if he would glide his cock in slowly or slam himself into me.
I didn't care which. I just wanted to be filled.
Then he took in a deep breath and walked out of the bathroom. Leaving me a trembling mess on the bathmat.
Trembling. And content.
And wanting more.
Where was he going? Did I want to follow him? Did he want me to follow him? I leaned against the counter and climbed to my shaky feet. I wasn't sure I could trust my knees to carry me out after him, but I had to know. I threw the robe around my shoulders and ran out of the bathroom in time to see him duck into one of the bedrooms.
The last light from downstairs flipped off. I held my breath.
Cousin - Improper (A Bad Boy Romance) Page 3
