My body is betraying me as I walk unsteadily toward the door. Like it knows I don’t really want to leave.
But you know what? My mind is stronger. And, somehow, I make it out the door without dropping to my knees in front of that man.
The only thing I can hope for now is that I don’t see him again tonight.
Because I’m afraid I can only resist for so long.
Chapter 3
Owen
“Wait! Where are you going? We have so much cake left.”
She ignores me and makes a beeline for the door. I watch her shake her cute little ass away from me for about five seconds before the temptation to follow her overwhelms me.
I look over at the bridesmaid I’ve just soiled, who seems to be looking for a towel.
“Need anything else?” I ask her, hoping the answer is no.
She smirks. “I’m good, thanks. Excellent service. Five stars.”
“See you later then.”
Off I go, leaving what’s-her-name behind me to try to clean the frosting off her tits.
Good luck with that, sugar.
I follow the little Peeping Tom into the ballroom. Amid a sea of swirling skirts and squeaking patent-leather shoes, I find her standing at the bar, where the bartender is filling her champagne glass to the brim.
“Do you have a bigger glass?” she asks him, ignoring me lurking behind her.
“Allow me.”
She widens her eyes in surprise as I reach over her shoulder and grab the entire bottle, along with an extra glass for me. I know old Carl has sprung for an open bar, but I drop a couple of big bills into the tip jar to show her that I know how to be a gentleman.
It’s just that I prefer not to be. In fact, I would like to pour this entire bottle of bubbly on her dress until it soaks through to the skin, clinging to her every curve and making her nipples hard. After all, wedding cake is meant to be enjoyed with champagne.
“Cheers,” I say, topping off her glass and clinking it against mine.
She acquiesces, taking a sip and glaring at me. “Where’s your date?”
“Oh, she’s had enough of me for one night.”
She snorts. “I can see why.”
“You mean because I let her have dessert first, satisfied all her cravings, and went back for seconds?”
“I mean because you’re a bad, dirty man with cake on his face. Who invited you, anyway?”
She’s lying. I am spotlessly clean. Although what I’m envisioning right now is very, very dirty.
I can tell she’s stifling a smile.
“Are you flirting with me?” I ask as I feel my face with my fingers, looking for crumbs.
“No.”
Yes, she is. She doesn’t know it yet, but this bad, dirty, sexy man wants to fuck her, and she wants to help him do it.