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Holy Frigging Matrimony: A Tangled Series Short Story, Page 1

Emma Chase


  To my readers—because you love these characters as much as I do.

  Chapter One

  I SIT IN A HIGH-BACKED CHAIR in the corner of the bedroom in a suite at The Plaza hotel, flipping through the advertisement-packed pages of Bride Magazine. Female-targeted ads are ridiculous. I don’t care how “flawless” looking the makeup claims to be; if you don’t already look like a Victoria’s Secret model, no cover-up in the world is gonna make you look like one.

  Another thing I don’t get—everyone always raves about The Plaza, but the room is wall to wall florals—the bedding, the upholstery, the framed pictures. It looks like it was designed by a deranged Mistress Mary, quite contrary-obsessed grandmother. I shift in the chair, trying to get comfortable, but the seat was obviously made to be “looked at” not “sat in.” I give up on the magazine and wait.

  Waiting for what, you ask?

  For Kate, of course.

  She’s behind the closed bathroom door, probably taking a bath. And she doesn’t know I’m here yet. It’s going to be a surprise. A lust-filled, haven’t-seen-her-in-twenty-four-hours-and-I-can’t-wait-to-get-inside-her kind of surprise.

  You have no idea what’s going on right now, do you? Well, hang on; you’ll figure it out shortly.

  Because the bathroom door opens, and Kate steps into the bedroom. And like a dog who hasn’t seen his master all day, my lonely cock lifts its head at the sight of her.

  She holds a champagne glass filled with bubbly, orange liquid. Her hair is twisted up in a high knot, while delicate, curling strands brush against her damp neck. She’s wearing a short, red silk robe that leaves little to the imagination—which is exactly why I bought it for her.

  I smile when she sees me. Her beguiling brown eyes widen. “Drew?” She glances at the door. “What are you doing here? You’re not supposed to be here.”

  “I know. I snuck in. I’m stealthy like that.”

  She steps towards me. “If Dee sees you, she’s going to freak out.”

  I scowl at the mention of Kate’s psychotic best friend, whose mission in life is to interfere with mine. “Screw Dee. I wanted to see you.”

  Last night was the first night we’ve spent apart since Kate moved in with me. Now, you might think that one night shouldn’t be that big a deal—but you’re wrong. Ask any recovering drug addict which night of detox was the worst? When they were hungriest for a fix? The initial hours of withdrawal are always the hardest.

  Kate smiles forgivingly, but reminds me, “The guys aren’t supposed to see the girls before the reception. It’s a tradition.”

  I stand up and pull Kate flush against me, because seeing her, smelling her vanilla- and lavender-scented skin, makes touching her a must. “It’s a stupid fucking tradition. And that’s not even accurate—the actual rule is the groom isn’t allowed to see the bride before the ceremony. Delores just made up this shit up to make me miserable.”

  Are you starting to figure it out now?

  Kate giggles. “Because everything is always about you, right?”


  I lean in to kiss her lips, but she leans back. “You can’t stay here.”

  I counter her dodge with a move towards her neck. I kiss and suck the sensitive skin above her collarbone. Delicious.

  I mumble against her, “Sure I can.”

  Kate tilts her head with a sigh, giving me more room to taste, even while she argues, “And when Dee finds out you’re here?”

  “If Delores comes in this room, she’s going to get an eyeful.” I chuckle. “Maybe she’ll go blind. Or she’ll learn something—lucky Matthew.”

  Kate sees the wisdom of my words. Or else she’s just as horny as I am. Her body relaxes against mine and her arms tighten around my shoulders, giving in.

  Victory is mine.

  My hand slides beneath her robe, palming her soft, gorgeous tit. And I whisper, “Tell me you missed me last night.”

  She pushes against my hand, wanting more. “I did.”

  I trail light, tickling kisses down her chest and bend my knees to reach my target. I rub my face against the velvet flesh of her breast, breathing lightly on her aroused nipple. “Tell me you thought about me, Kate.”

  “Mmm…I always think about you.”

  I reward her words with the flick of my tongue. I lave her gorgeous nipple, then suck it into my mouth. Kate holds onto my head for dear life. And just as my hand makes its move up her thigh…

  There’s a knock, and a voice comes from outside the bedroom door.

  A grating voice, like the one those Satan-worshipping teens from the ‘80’s probably heard when they played their heavy metal records backwards.

  “Kate? Hey, Katie, did you fall asleep in there?”

  Delores thought it would be a great idea for her and Kate to share the two bedroom suite for the night. Their mothers shared an identical one a few doors down.

  Kate tenses and I close my eyes, praying she’ll go the hell away.

  But not surprisingly, my prayers go unanswered. The doorknob jiggles. “Kate, open up.”

  I get in one last drag on Kate’s tit, then release it with a pop. She closes her robe and drags me towards the door, pushing me to the corner so I’ll be hidden when it opens. Then she breathes deeply, brushes her hair out of her face, and cracks the door open just enough to see Delores.

  Kate tells her, “I’m here. I was just taking a bath—what’s up?”

  “The photographer’s on his way. Get your buns moving—he’ll be here in an hour.” Delores pauses, then asks, “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, of course. I’m fine.”

  Suspicion swims in Dee’s tone. “You look flushed. Why are you all flushed?”

  Kate is good at almost everything she does. Except lying. She sucks at that.

  She waves her hand at her face. “I…I don’t know.”

  “Were you masturbating?” Dee teases.

  Oh, to all the angels and saints—how I wish she fucking was.

  Watching Kate get herself off—in front of me—would be epic. It’s a major fantasy. But she’s hesitant, self-conscious. I’m trying to get her comfortable with the idea. Two birds, one stone and all that.

  For guys, it’s a phenomenal turn on. So if you ladies are looking to spice things up a bit? Try a little self-diddling. Trust me—your audience will be begging for an encore.

  Kate scoffs, “No, Dee, I wasn’t masturbating.”

  Delores still isn’t convinced. “Are you having phone sex with the Goatfucker?”

  Phone sex.

  Also at the top of my to-do list.

  “I told you to stop calling Drew that,” Kate scolds.

  “I know—you’re right. I can’t help it. I picture his face and it just comes out of my mouth.”

  Now Kate sounds impatient. “Okay—yes, alright? I’m having phone sex with Drew.”

  “Eww! Why did you tell me? I don’t want to know that.”

  Kate sighs. “Then why did you even ask? Look Dee, you worry about you right now, okay? I’ll make sure I’m ready when the photographer gets here.”

  Begrudgingly, Delores says, “Alright. Your mom’s almost dressed, if you need any help.” Then she suggests, “Hey—maybe you should leave him hanging? Dipwad’s balls could be our something blue.”

  “Goodbye, Delores.” Kate closes the door.

  After we hear Dee close the door to her own bedroom, Kate locks ours and turns to me. “She’s onto us. I’m going to have to make sure she’s completely occupied before you sneak out. You might be here a while.”

  I grin. “Oh, no…
however will we ever fill the time?”

  Kate turns and walks towards the forgotten chair. The silk robe sways teasingly, revealing the barest glimpse of her sumptuous ass.

  “You’ll be filling the time perusing Bridal Magazine, while I get dressed. Not all of us can look presentable in five minutes flat.”

  I shrug. “Seven if I need to shave.”

  “Regardless. There’s no time to mess around—even for a quickie.”

  I stalk towards her. “A—there’s always time to mess around. B—it depends on your definition of quickie. My interpretation happens to be how quickly I can make you scream my name. Past experience has shown I can make that happen pretty damn fast.”

  For the first time, I notice the lace undergarments laid out on top of the dresser. A sheer, white bustier and matching string thong. I motion to them with my chin, “No garters?”

  I’m not the biggest fan of lingerie, but if you’re going to wear it, garters are always a nice touch.

  Kate pulls her hair free from its bun and shakes it out. Shiny darks strands fall down around her, making her look bed-rolling wild and accentuating the refined beauty of her dark eyes, pert nose, and sweetly kissable lips.

  She answers, “No, no garters. You’ll understand why when you see the dress--” She stops, her expression panicked. She glances towards the garment bag hanging next to the bed. “You didn’t look at my dress, did you?”

  I’m still distracted by Kate’s disheveled hair. I imagine running my hands through its soft waves, then wrapping it around my fingers for a tug while I’m buried deep inside her.

  That’s why my voice sounds less than convincing when I answer, “No, I didn’t look.”

  Kate points her finger at me, like a teacher reprimanding a student. “Tell the truth, Drew.”

  “What am I? Ten years old?”

  “Emotionally? Sometimes. But that’s beside the point. Did you peek at my dress?”

  I reach around her waist and press our lower halves together. “No, baby, I didn’t look at your dress.”

  Kate settles in to my embrace, toying with the neck of my t-shirt as she explains, “I’m glad you didn’t look, because I want you to be surprised. You’re going to lose it when you see me in it. It’ll be your new favorite dress.”

  I kiss her forehead, and work my way down over her temple, across her cheek. “My favorite dress of yours will always be…the one on the floor.”

  I nip at her lower lip as my hands skim the silk from her shoulders. “Like this robe.” Kate lowers her arms, allowing me to slide it off her completely until it pools around her feet. “It’s my fucking favorite.”

  Then I cup her jaw in one hand and kiss her fully. Deeply. I waste no time in sliding my tongue against hers, which eagerly joins mine in the sensuous give and take.

  Between kisses I whisper, “You taste like champagne.”

  She giggles as I move to her shoulder, scraping it with my teeth and then soothing the love bite with my lips.

  “It’s a mimosa. I had a few with breakfast and some more in the bath.”

  I push her knees open with my leg and caress the firm flesh of her ass, before dragging her up onto my thigh. The friction makes her moan. She pulls my head back down to her lips for another mimosa-flavored kiss.

  Holding her steady, I move us back to the bed. I slide her down my leg and lay her in the middle of the rumpled sheets. Then I pull my t-shirt over my head and push my gym shorts to the floor.

  My ever-enthusiastic dick stands hard and thick. Kate leans up on her elbows, devouring me with her eyes. Her cheeks are tinged pink with desire, her lips parted, and her thighs rub together in anticipation. Fucking stunning. With a needy lick of her lips, her gaze settles on my cock as she waits for me to make the next move.

  And I think about how hot it’d be to see Kate touch herself. Maybe she needs the ‘I show you mine, you show me yours’ approach? I take my dick in my hand, and stroke it up and down. Kate follows my every move, mesmerized. After a few more slow pumps I say, “You know, I’ve never really liked champagne. But maybe I’ve just been drinking it from the wrong glass. We should test that theory.”

  I pick up Kate’s glass from the bedside table and sit beside her on the bed. She reaches out and replaces my hand with her own, stroking me expertly, caressing the tip with her thumb.

  And I can’t help but groan.

  I raise the glass over her, tip it slightly, and pour the cold liquid between her breasts. She gasps and her hand tightens around me in the most fantastic way.

  Then I lean forward, lapping at the champagne infused juice. Over her sternum, around the supple base of her perfect frigging tits, I lick every drop, tasting the drink—and her. It’s a heady combination.

  “Mmm…good stuff.”

  And as much as I love the feel of her hand on me, I take Kate’s wrists and bring both hands over her head, so she’s lying flat on her back. Kneeling on the bed, I lean over her and dribble more of the mimosa onto the peaks of her breasts and suckle hard, flicking at the nipple with my tongue—first one, than the other.

  She writhes on the bed and moans, a needy, desperate sound that spurs me on.

  A few more drops are poured on her stomach. Kate tenses reflexively, but relaxes again when my warm mouth glides across her skin, following the path of the sweet liquid.

  Her moans turn to gasps as I lick and suck my way around her adorable belly button, then down to her thighs. And her gasps turns to high pitched whimpers as I nibble on the flesh of her thighs, inching ever higher.

  Kate likes to get creative with the pussy grooming. Today it’s a barely-there landing strip, which has me practically shaking to sink my face into it.

  I don’t make myself wait long.

  I hold the glass above her and pour the rest of the liquor between her spread thighs. Then I cover her with my mouth, sucking and licking, lapping up every trickle like an alcoholic consuming his last indulgence before going cold turkey.

  I feel light headed from the taste, the fragrance, the smooth, slick feel of her pussy against my tongue. I moan against her flesh and Kate cries out in carnal fucking joy.

  I bring two fingers to her clit and rub it in firm, quick circles. Kate’s hips rise and push instinctively as she gets closer, in time with my tongue as it pushes in and out.

  Her thighs squeeze my head and I grip her hips hard, lifting her against my mouth. She stiffens as one last, long, serrated moan escapes her lips.

  Then she goes slack in my hands. Spent and satisfied.

  And it still gets me. The undiluted gratification of going down on her. Of giving her bliss. But as happy as I am that I made her come, my own hedonistic craving pushes at me, driving me like the roar of a crowd at a college football game.

  Go, go, go!

  I rise to my knees and hook my arms under Kate’s calves, spreading her wide. Then I bury myself fully in one powerful push.

  There’s nothing better than this—nothing on earth that feels this perfect. That first thrust, when my cock is enveloped by Kate’s tight, wet, warmth—it’s rapture so intense, it borders on pain.

  My head rolls back on my neck as I savor the feeling. Then I pull my hips back, sliding against her grip, and drive back in.

  Using her legs for leverage, I fuck her hard, but slow. When I’m buried to the hilt I rock my hips side to side, rubbing my pelvis against Kate’s sweet spot, until she’s recovered from her first orgasm and climbing towards number two.

  With each move of my hips, Kate cries out in harsh breaths.




  The pleasure tingles and builds, gathering low in my stomach. And when Kate arches her back and clamps down around me, I push forward a final time and pulse inside her as I groan and curse.

  Out of breath, I collapse on top of her, and she presses her lips to mine in an open- mouthed, chest-heaving kiss. Afterward, I turn my head and pant against her neck.

With a small laugh she says, “Wow. So I guess you really missed me last night, huh?”

  I smile. “What gave me away?”

  I roll to the side and Kate snuggles against me. Once her heartbeat slows, she complains, “Now I have to take another bath. You made me sweaty.”

  I run my fingers through her hair. “I like you sweaty. You should stay like this.”

  Her nose wrinkles. “I smell.”

  I press my face against her neck and inhale dramatically. “You smell like sweat and sex…and me. It’s hot. Eau de Cum kicks Chanel Number Five’s ass.”

  For a guy, there’s something primordial about a woman covered in your scent—it’s the most primitive way of staking your claim. Of showing every other peckerhead that a woman is very much taken. It’s animalistic, sure, but that doesn’t make it any less arousing.

  “That’s gross. I’m taking another bath.”

  I chuckle. “Whatever makes you happy.”

  Plus, it’ll give me a reason to make her sweaty again. Another reason.

  After five minutes of customary cuddling, Kate lifts her head from the pillow of my chest and orders, “You have to get the hell out of here.”

  My brow furrows. “Kicking me out already? I feel so used.”

  She laughs.

  I say, “I see how it is. You only want me for my body.”

  Mimicking my earlier tone, Kate replies, “Well…yeah. Although your mind can be mildly entertaining.”

  I smack her ass with an open palm.


  She squeaks and jumps out of bed, out of my reach.

  “Get dressed.” My clothes are thrown at my head as Kate slips into her robe and tip-toes out the door to check if the coast is clear.

  I’m dressed by the time she comes back in.

  She holds out her hand. “Come on, Dee’s in her room. You’re good to go.”

  I pull on her hand until she crashes against me. “I don’t wanna go. I want to defile the prestigious Plaza Hotel by having you ride me like a slutty mermaid in the bathtub.”

  Kate shakes her head. “Not today. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

  I sigh. “Fine.” I brush my lips against hers quickly. “I’ll be counting the minutes.”

  Kate pinches me, because she knows I’m being sarcastic. “I’ll see you downstairs.”

  “There’s going to be a lot of people downstairs. How am I going to find you?”

  She smiles. “You won’t be able to miss me. I’ll be the one walking down the aisle to you. Wearing…silver.”

  Chapter 2


  The final frontier.

  Steven went first. He was kind of our test subject. Like those monkeys that NASA sent off into space in the fifties, knowing they’d never make it back alive.