Thank you for all the comments on the first chapter. I've decided to keep the initials, despite requests for real names, since making up false names would take something away from the story for me.
All characters in this story are over the age of 18.
*
I walked into the church that Saturday morning, tugging at my dark violet silk dress and repeatedly tucking my bangs behind my ear. My heart banged almost painfully against my chest and I was shivering. Deep breaths did nothing to assuage my anxiety. I saw a couple of people from the jazz gig, but didn't know anyone well enough to just walk up and start chatting. I awkwardly stood alone until a well-dressed man I recognized as S.'s brother and best man came up to me. He looked like a slimmer, more polished version of S. "Um, S. wants to talk to you for a minute in the back room," he told me, jutting his thumb towards the rear of the church.
"Oh, uh, okay," I said, surprised. What could he have to say? The back room was really more of a coatroom, and I supposed the bride had dibs on the best place to get ready. S. didn't need a lot of preparation, anyway, I reasoned. All he had to do was run a comb through his hair, throw on a tux, and he was perfect. I poked my head into the room. It was dark, not made for everyday conversations between friends. "S.?" Suddenly I felt a hand on my wrist, the door closed, blocking out most of the light, and S.'s soft lips were buried in the crook of my neck. My legs melted away at his touch but I fought for my brain to master my body. "S., S., what are you doing? Stop!"
He paused and what little light was left in the closet glinted off the whites of his eyes. "Do you really want me to stop?" he asked me in a low, growling voice I had never heard before. "Don't lie."
"No, I don't," I admitted, trembling, "but this is your
wedding
. You're getting
married
in a few minutes."
"Weddings are always late," he muttered, like that was the point I was trying to make. "The ceremony's going to be delayed anyway; I think there was some problem with the dress." I couldn't see well enough to predict his movements and he grabbed me close and flicked his tongue against my lips, encouraging me to open my mouth. The darkness, the heady smell of S.'s cologne, my heightened anxiety -- all of it contributed to my concession to S.'s ministrations. I could not help myself. My mind protested how morally corrupt this was, but it felt too good, too satisfying, to stop. I let my body relax into him and opened my mouth against his. He wasted no time in slipping his tongue inside and I moaned quietly in the back of my throat. He tasted like cinnamon and ginger.
He still had a hold on my wrist and he tugged my hand down to the zipper of his slacks. "Feel how hard I am for you," he hissed in my ear, making my knees buckle. "I can't stay away from you. I need you. Ever since you kissed me in the car..." Every word out of his mouth was like a spell, intoxicating me and binding me to him. I stroked him gently through the material and heard him exhale slowly. He planted liquid kisses along my collarbone, always returning to my mouth to wrap his tongue around mine. He backed me against the only wall with no coats hung on it and pinned my hands above my head. "I can't resist you," he breathed. He urgently pressed his hips against mine and I gasped. S. reached into my dress and scooped out my breast, lavishing it with licks while still refusing to let me touch him.
"S.," I panted in the dim light. "I need you." He smirked.
"That's what I was waiting for," he whispered, releasing my wrists. I tore off half the buttons on his shirt and nuzzled his bare, built chest as he unbuckled his pants and let them drop to his ankles. I glanced down to see his proud cock for the first time and groaned softly. I started to fall to my knees to ravish him, but he held me up and shook his head. "No time for that," he said. "I want to be inside you." His eyes flashed suddenly and I heard him curse. "Fuck, I don't have a condom on me." I swallowed hard and made a quick decision.
