“The fuck you doing?” Mac snaps. “Who cuts a damn burger?”
“I mean…” Maddi’s voice cracks. “I do.”
“But why?” Bean takes another hefty bite. “Tastes better when you eat it like this.”
“But eating like that makes a mess. Ketchup drops, and you ruin your lipstick.”
“Nobody’s wearing lipstick!”
“For fuck’s sake,” I huff. I study my plate, select a fry, then I turn back to her and place it between my teeth. “Eat it, Turdsky.”
“Eat…” Her eyes turn positively terrified. “What?”
“Eat my fry.” I slide my hand into her lap beneath the table, creep higher along her thighs until she snaps them closed, then I smile. “Eat my fuckin’ potato, Turdsky.”
“This isn’t… I can’t—” She’s ready to shoot through the roof. “This is not how you act at the table!”
“No?” I slide my hand right to her crotch and push her panties aside. Thank god the table hides my hand. “Three.”
“Bry, don’t you dare.”
“Eat my fry, baby. Two.” I glide my knuckles over her wet opening, and grin when her breath comes to a standstill.
“Bry…” Her voice turns breathy. “Please stop.”
“One.”
I slide my finger in and hide her squeaked gasp with a kiss that transfers the fry from my mouth to hers. Then I pull back and wink while she merely sits with the fry in her mouth. And when she pulses around my fingers, I move just once. One discreet pump before I pull out and use that hand to pick up more fries.
I shove them all into my mouth, lick the salt – and her – straight off my skin, then laugh when her cheeks fight to decide if they’re going to burn bright red, or lose all color completely.
“Eat up, beautiful. Damn.” I dig my fingers back into the pile and take more fries. “These are delicious. Oh, on that note, will you be my plus one for Smalls’ wedding?”
Maddi
Wedding Bells
For the last month or two, my friendship with Jenna has been strained at best. Frigid at worst.
I considered suggesting Evie and Lucy ask Jenna to make their dresses for the First Annual Stacked Deck Gala, but in the end, decided not to.
It’s not like Evie doesn’t already have contact with the woman I could have sworn was my best friend all of my life, so if they discuss the gala dresses while in a fitting for the wedding dress, then that’s up to them. But I’m officially stepping away until Jen and I get a chance to talk about our problems.
I can’t say I know exactly what those are, because selfishly, I’m such a shitty friend that I’ve been spending my time hanging out with Bry instead of turning up on Jenna’s doorstep and demanding she talk to me.
That’s how it’s always been for us; she gets mad, and I have to pander to her moods until she’s ready to talk. More often than not, her anger was borne because she didn’t get her own way on something, so I, the eternal ass-patter, would apologize, make better whatever it was she wanted, and we’d go back to being the best of friends.
Our families loved it, of course. Except perhaps my grandpa, who told me to ‘Buck up and demand respect’. To him, the Prices are the paid help. Whereas to my father, they’re powerful, influential allies.
It’s all about perspective, I suppose.
But either way, I’ve jumped off that ride since Bry entered my life. He came in like a storm I loathed, but now he’s a… well, he’s still a storm. But I might be a little too attached for my own good.
“Let’s go, Turdsky!”
Yup, there’s my impatient tornado.
“We gotta go, baby! The ceremony is set for three. It’s already two-thirty.”
“I know. I’m sorry!”
I stand in his master bathroom and apply a heavy coat of lipstick that I know for a fact he’ll mess up before we arrive at the church. And yet, I apply it meticulously, I make it perfect, and when I cap the tube, I drop it into my clutch, because I’m going to need to fix it ten minutes from now.
Stepping away from the mirror with a sigh, I study my gown – Jenna Price, of course. It’s such a dark blue, it’s almost black. My shoulders are left completely bare and show off the long line of my neck. Sleeves rest on the outsides of my arms, and diamonds sparkle along the collar to show off the dress’ shape. The fabric follows the line of my body right down to my stomach, then it flares a little, to lend a princess air.
Bryan will love that.
To complement the dress, I wear nail polish that matches the fabric, and silver heels. My hair is tied back in a bun, but it’s not severe like how I wore it to the art auction not so long ago. It’s kind of loose, slouchy, and leaves several strands to hang free and tickle my shoulders.
I’m dressed up like I’m going to a Monaco event. But I don’t feel quite so restricted. I feel lovely. And daring. I feel like I’m a kid playing dress-up, and I can’t say I ever did that when I was a child. Not the pretend kind; I was too busy doing it for real, as my father dragged me around from one event to the next.
“Madilyn!”
“I’m coming!” I snatch up my clutch with a last glance at my outfit, then dash out of the bathroom with a grin on my face, only to slam against a broad chest, and almost lose my footing.
With a squeal, I topple backward, but am caught by Bry’s strong hands and playful laughter. “Whoa there. How’m I supposed to fuck you in those heels at the reception if you rush around and break your ankles?”
Pushing back to my own two feet, I lift my chin in stubborn defiance, and look down on him – since I know it’ll make him laugh.
“First of all, peasant, you told me to rush. Second, you crashed into me. It’s lucky you caught me, or you’d be in a lot of trouble.”
“I would hate for you to fall on your delectable ass, Madilyn. You look fuckin’ stunning, by the way.”
“Thirdly!” I lift my chin higher. Higher. And almost wrench my neck in my efforts. “We will not be fucking at the ceremony. Or the reception. Or anywhere else, unless it’s back here in your bed.”
“Wanna bet?”
He yanks me forward and forces my face-down until he can take my lips. Then my act is gone, my ice-princess pretense is gone, because his tongue is so damn skilled. His hands roam my back, his fingers slide along my zipper.
He’s tempted to undo it all and make us late. But he knows better.
One hand rests on my hip to anchor me close, but the other is on an expedition around to my boobs, to the back of my neck so his fingertips tickle the base of my bun.
But again; he knows better.
“You look good enough to eat.” He pulls back, but only to press his forehead to mine. “Jesus, I’m always so hungry for you, Maddi. Is this normal?”
“Uh…” I release a nervous laugh. “I can’t say one way or the other. Though I’ve never been attacked this often by a man before, if that helps?”
“Get used to it,” he murmurs and drops a kiss on my lips. “But only by me. Any other man wants to cut in, send him to me. I’ll set him straight.”