Chapter 5

Five

Haden

The cuffs of my shirt begin to irritate me, or perhaps it’s the goddamn heat inside this room.

Presley is always cold. She hates using the air conditioning, reverting to windows for fresh air, so it is no surprise the overbearing temperature is wreaking havoc on my patience.

I’ve been dreading this day for months. I don’t care for weddings, especially when I’m part of the wedding party. Thankfully, when Presley and I planned our wedding, it was simple without all the bullshit. She knew me well, another reason why I married her.

What makes this even worse is that it is the wedding day of my cousin. The same cousin who dated my wife. That’s right, I’ll use the word ‘date’ because every time I remember they fucked, my anger morphs into a blind rage.

Marcus met the girl of his dreams on a cruise ship. He was doing a photo shoot for a magazine and met this nerdy chick on some sort of book club holiday. The whole thing seemed ludicrous, but he claims they’re in love, and he proposed in the Bahamas the same weekend. He asked me to be his best man despite our distant relationship and my inability to forgive him for touching Presley.

This is how I ended up in this fucking suit.

Somewhere, in my drawers, sit my favorite cufflinks. They are navy blue with a silver edge and belonged to my late father.

I pull the top drawer open and shove my socks around. Nothing. I continue with each drawer and still can’t find them. I yell out for Presley, but she mumbles something I can’t understand.

I stand in the middle of our wardrobe, scanning the area. Every single thing is organized according to color and style. Even the shoes are all facing the same way. Presley’s OCD is over-the-top, so I strongly believe she knows exactly where they are sitting.

Not wanting to look foolish, I continue my hunt, the frustration mounting as I come up empty-handed. I resort to looking in Presley’s drawers. I start with her panty drawer which is probably a mistake. Pulling out a lacy white thong, my dick stirs beneath my pants. Fuck, she looked irresistible in this. I put it back only to pull out the red one. Jesus, I remember her wearing this during a role-play session.

Okay, c’mon, you’re going to be late.

My hand reaches to the back where I come across a box. Pulling it out, it appears to be a pack of condoms. What in the ever-loving fuck? My breathing begins to quicken, heat flushing through my body making this room even more unbearable. I stomp hard and heavy steps fueled by anger toward the study where she’s quickly checking her email and throw them on the table.

“Fucking explain this?” I seethe.

She glances toward the box, then shuts down her email before swiveling the chair to face me head-on. “I bought them because the pill isn’t one hundred percent effective.”

“You bought fucking condoms? For me?”

“Yes, you.” She throws her hands up in the air, groaning in frustration. “Don’t even assume it’s for someone else. I told you, I’m not ready for more kids. So, if you want to continue fucking me, you’ll wear them. Simple.”

“Simple?” I laugh. This has to be joke. This is why men get married to avoid wrapping their dicks in plastic. “You’ve got to be fucking joking.”

“Why is this a problem? Honestly, Haden. You admit Masen needs a lot of attention. Do you think we can handle another child?”

“I can’t handle my dick in a raincoat!”

Presley buries her face in her hands for minutes on end while I stand next to her trying to calm myself down. I know it is hard with Masen, but he is a great kid and what’s wrong with having another baby? Presley needs to get it into her stubborn head that we don’t have forever, and Masen is already four. It would be great if he had a sibling closer in age, so they can bond.

“We have a wedding to attend…”

“I don’t want to go.”

“Well, kinda hard since you’re in the wedding party. We’ll talk about this later.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” I state, grabbing the box, ready to toss it in the trash. “I’m not wearing a condom. End of story.”

I walk out of the room only to realize I still can’t find my cufflinks, and with Presley not talking to me, I have no choice but to grab another pair and head out the door not to be late.

* * *

I take it back, I hate weddings.

The ceremony dragged on forever. Marcus and Marcia, oh yes, they even have matching names, went on forever with their vows. Okay, we get it, you’re in love and want to spend the rest of your life with each other.

Don’t get me started on the photographs.

After the ceremony ends, we are whisked away to some park where the photographer demands a thousand pictures all of which are painful and unnecessary. Rick, one of Marcus’s groomsmen, is smart enough to sneak in a flask of bourbon which we guzzle in the limo along with any other alcohol we can get our hands on.

By the time we arrive at the reception, the sun’s beginning to set. The venue overlooks Malibu, it’s pricey, but Marcia’s parents own some sort of restaurant chain, so barely small change for them.

I’m requested to sit at the main table. It’s long and overlooks the entire room.

Over on my left, Presley is seated at one of the round tables next to Mom and David.

She looks stunning as always. The strapless emerald dress fits her perfectly even though she claims motherhood added pounds to her hips. Those hips did what they fucking need to do in the bedroom, and that’s all I care about.

And her hair—the long brown locks sit against her skin. I always have a fascination with her hair, something about the way it spirals naturally into a lock of curls just makes her all the more beautiful. She often complains about it being a tangled mess, how humidity isn’t her friend, and sometimes straightens it, though she claims it is a lot of work. If only she could see how beautiful she is to me. That’s all that fucking matters in my opinion.

The scotch sits in the glass in front of me. I’ve lost count of how many I’ve had, clearly not enough to make this day move any faster. The alcohol and empty stomach are catching up to me. Thankfully, the entrée is served, but it looks green and squishy, but fuck it, I smash it down then more booze because sitting here is boring as fuck.

There’s chatter all around. The girls are giggling, typical girl behavior induced by expensive champagne. The single boys beside me are figuring out who they’re going to try to fuck tonight.

“Man, Marcia’s cousin, the redhead… fuck she’s a gem all right.”

I snort. “She’s a dyke, man.”

“Even better,” Rick snickers.

I have only met Marcia’s family today including her two older brothers.

They’re okay but the eldest one, Harry, is a sleazy fucker.

“Fuck the bridal party, I’ll take the hot brunette over there. Man, she gave me a boner when I saw her ass walk past.”

My eyes scan to where he’s looking until I see him staring straight at Presley. Against the pristine silver tablecloth, my knuckles tighten into a ball, hard and stark white. The sound of my grinding teeth echoes louder in my head, drowning out the noise surrounding me. The animosity is like acid burning, potent and damaging any rationality trying to ease its way through.

I needed to suppress my rage in front of all these people but no one, and I mean no one, talks that way about my fucking wife.

Rick cackles into his scotch glass. “You might wanna slow down, cowboy. She’s taken.”

“Makes it even more of a challenge.”

The rage inside me has fired up beyond a level of control, forcing me to stand up in triumph ready to smack the shit out of this dickhead.

Rick senses my animosity, placing his hands on my chest.

“Not worth it, man. For the record, his missus left him for her yoga instructor half her age. Ego is bruised, so don’t let him get to you.”

I clear my throat, and motion for Harry to lean in. “You talk about my wife like that again, and I’m going to make sure your dick is cut off and shoved so far up your ass you’d wish you never laid eyes on her. You got me?”

I sit back in the chair, downing the drink in front of me in one go, then eat the damn chicken served in front of us.

After the food and all the other wedding traditions including the cake and speeches which were up next, Marcus asked me to say something. Public speaking never fazes me, but with several scotches and a few glasses of bourbon swimming inside of me, I hold myself together to pull off my short yet sweet speech about marriage.

The crowd oohs and aahs, there’s laughter followed by a giant applause.

Damn, I am good.

After me, my Uncle Pete takes the microphone which ends up in a drunken rant about his ex-wives and how marriage isn’t for everyone. There’s a mention about his time in jail, long-lost friends who never paid him money they owed. It’s classic Uncle Pete.

I have to clap to that. It isn’t a wedding without a family member making a fool out of themselves.

The MC requests the bride and groom take to the dance floor for their first official dance. Apparently, we have to dance with our allocated partner for the day. Blondie, as I call her because I can’t remember her name, grabs my hand much to my dismay and leads me onto the dance floor.

They play Endless Love, fucking corny as hell, and blondie is rambling on about how she’s single and literally ready to mingle.

So basically, she is down to fuck.

Too bad I don’t fucking give a shit, counting down the minutes until the song ends. The MC announces other couples to join us.

“Excuse me, I’m going to go dance with my wife.”

“Oh,” she mouths. “You’re married?”

“Yes, sweetheart, but you knew that. Your type loves to get off on fucking married guys.”

Her face drops, a mixture of anger and humiliation. She stomps off in a huff as I walk toward where Presley sits.

“Hi, Mom.” I lean in to kiss my mom on the cheek, then shake David’s hand.

“Haden, honey, how much have you had to drink?”

“Not enough to make this go quicker,” I mumble. “Mom, will you excuse me as I’d like to dance with my wife?”

I extend my hand as Presley lovingly smiles while placing her hand in mine. The platinum band sits on her finger, a symbol of this bond we share. Fuck, I can feel myself getting sentimental. Stupid weddings.

On the dance floor, I lace my arms around her waist as she wraps hers around my neck. She smells fantastic, this floral fragrance only reminds me of her.

“So, the blonde is nice,” she casually mentions, eyeing her from the dance floor.

“You want me to hook you up with her? She’s single and ready to mingle, apparently.”

Presley shakes her head, knowingly. “Why am I not surprised you know that?”

“I can’t control other people’s actions around me, trust me.”

“You’re like some sex-god magnet. Everywhere I turn, women are throwing themselves at you,” she vents in annoyance. “It’s gotten even worse since we were married. The wedding ring is almost like a challenge they want to conquer.”

“Well,” I say, staring deep into her eyes. “Lucky, I only have eyes for you. And besides, I am not the only one fighting off the beasts.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I prefer not to repeat what was said about you. My jealously can only stem so far.”

Presley purses her lips. “Right, so that explains your killer look earlier. Harry isn’t subtle with his flirtatious winks.”

“Don’t tell me he—”

“Hey.” She places her hands on my cheeks, instantly relaxing me. “This conversation isn’t worth the time and effort. I want you. I’ve always wanted only you.”

Running her hands along the collar of my shirt, she presses it firmly on my chest. “And since we’re child-free tonight, I’m ready for you to fuck me every which way you please… and you can do it without the raincoat.”

I fucking love my wife.

Her words are like dynamite, my pants stiffening against her body. Fuck, we need to get out of here now. Screw this wedding.

“We need to leave like now,” I demand.

“We can’t just leave,” she reminds me. “They have to do the farewell arch, that’s still another hour away.”

“But I need to fuck you like yesterday.”

She rests her head against mine, before whispering in my ear, “There’s always the cloakroom… again.”

I don’t give her time to change her mind, pulling her off the dance floor in a quick flash. Outside in the foyer, a young guy is manning the front. I drop Presley’s hand as she nervously waits and pull out my wallet.

“Here, man. Take this five hundred and make sure no one goes in for at least twenty minutes, you got me?”

The guy winks, taking my bills giving me the green-light nod.

With the key in my hand, we make our way to the cloakroom. I open the door and switch on the light, pushing her inside. Closing the door behind us, I don’t give her time to change her mind. I slam my mouth onto hers as I push her against the wall. She clutches onto my shirt and manages to pull away for just a split second.

“God, I’ve fantasized about fucking you all night long.”

“Oh, yeah,” I whisper into her neck. “Jealousy looks great on you.”

I want my mouth back on hers. Our tongues are in a battle, feverishly fighting until she lets out a deep moan, the one that makes me rock-hard, wanting to explode. I don’t have much time, so I quickly flip her around, pushing her against the wall again, this time with her back to me until all I can see is that sweet ass of hers. I lift the corner of her emerald dress, exposing one cheek. She’s wearing those French lace panties that made me blow in my pants last time. Fuck. With her skin in full view, I slap her ass hard enough for her to let out a squeal.

“You miss this?” I breathe, sliding my hand against her slit. “You miss me fucking you?”

She arches her neck, and nods, giving me rein to taste her beautiful skin.

“I’m going to fuck you now. It’s going to be hard, and you’re going to scream.”

Her body is waiting, the goosebumps forming along her precious skin. I don’t want to waste any more time, and I unzip my pants until my cock is free. I slide my fingers into her panties again and feel how soaking wet she is. Fuck me. My girl is ready for me. No more waiting. Just fuck her hard and make her come.

I grab my cock and just the slight touch causes me to moan. Pushing her panties aside, I slide myself in nice and hard, watching her arch her back as her knees begin to shake. I fucking love when her knees shake.

The tightness of her pussy feels like heaven. This is fucking torture… c’mon, your cock should be able to hold out for a couple more minutes.

Placing my hands on her shoulders, I push her against the wall, gripping tight as I continue to thrust into her. Sweat is dripping off my forehead, and unable to control my thirst, I slam harder while I lower my hand against her clit. Such a beautiful clit. It’s perfect, just the way I like it—pink and swollen. I want it in my mouth. Her body tightens in my grip, and I know she’s so close. Seconds later, she begs me to fuck her harder as the orgasm rips through her, her breathing ragged and forcing her to groan loudly.

My time is running out.

I’m fucking seeing stars, exploding inside her as the sensations ravage every part of me. I let out a deep, rumbling groan, tightening my grip on her shoulders. I didn’t want to hurt her, but the marks I’ve left, they are red.

Our heavy pants echo through the confined room, and with a gentle kiss on her shoulder, I ease my way out

“Perfect, as always,” I murmur while helping her with her dress.

With a wicked smile, she fixes my shirt and straightens my tie. “If that’s the reaction I get out of you for threatening you with condoms, then a job well done for me.”

I stare into her eyes with a stern face. “No, that’s what happens when other men are trying to take what’s mine.”

She places her lips on mine, gently and lovingly.

“How about we be spontaneous and not head home. There’s a hotel around the corner, and I’m sure there’s a lot we can do.”

I take her lips, tasting her on my own, instantly feeling my dick harden, again.

“Oh baby, you better believe there’s plenty we can do.”