Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 103530 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103530 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
My nails dug into my palms in my lap.
“Well, it’s a good thing you’re not her father,” Mom said with a too loud, too mean-sounding laugh. “And that she’s an adult.”
“He’s teasing,” Deena assured us uncomfortably.
I wanted to snap back that he wasn’t teasing, he was being a paternalistic jackass. Instead, I reached for my water glass. From the sudden tension at the table, I assumed things between the in-laws weren’t all smooth sailing.
“How’s everyone doing tonight?” Matt’s voice jerked my attention straight to him. He stood beside Deena and gave us all a welcoming grin.
She grabbed his arm with one hand and pressed the other to her chest. “Matty. It’s all wonderful. We cannot thank you enough. The flowers, the canopy, the bows on the chairs… it’s all exquisite. Above and beyond what Lauren asked for.”
“Well, I’m happy to be of help.” He glanced over at Daisy. “Any chance you’d want to put a good word in for me? Since I’m walking that fuzzy beauty down the aisle tomorrow?”
“Yeah. Don’t smell like salmon,” Roy said gruffly. Somehow, even his jokes sounded disapproving.
“Damn. That’s what I was going to have for breakfast.” And then Matt did it. He snapped his fingers.
He didn’t even look at me when he did it. He gave Deena’s hand a squeeze as he removed it from his arm and excused himself to visit the next table.
“Mom?” I asked, my heart in my throat as I tried to come up with an excuse for leaving right after we’d just sat down. “Where did you get that drink?”
“Over at the bar.” She waved her hand vaguely toward a direction in which I saw no evidence of a bar.
A server stepped up to the table. “Good evening. What may I get you to drink?”
“Um, a glass of champagne?” Damn the amazing service at this place. I pushed back from the table, anyway. “Excuse me.”
Nobody needed a reason as to why I was leaving. I was an adult. I could go anywhere I wanted. Right now, I wanted to follow Matt’s instructions.
I knew he watched me as I left the room; I couldn’t help but take a surreptitious glance at him as I passed, and our eyes met.
Fuck, the sexual subterfuge was hot.
The only question was, where did one go to discreetly masturbate at a wedding rehearsal dinner? I’d seen a short hallway to the restrooms when we’d entered, but “public bathroom” didn’t scream privacy to me. Plus, it would be too distracting. I didn’t exactly find other people peeing and random snippets of conversation arousing.
There was always a supply room, I supposed. Not like we hadn’t done that before.
I tried my best to be inconspicuous as I wandered around outside the dining room. There had to be a janitor’s closet or something, anything with a lock...
There.
Behind an unlocked utility door that said, “staff only,” I spotted a unisex bathroom. Probably for the employees. I shouldn’t go back there. What if some poor server only got a few seconds between tables to take a pee? I’d been in that position way too often in several of my many past jobs. And I could get in trouble. That might be embarrassing, having to explain why I’d gone into a restricted area to use the bathroom.
I planned to pretend I was drunk and headed through the door like I owned the place. Or, at least, like I knew the owner. The clatter and chatter of a well-organized service kitchen filled the stark hallway, and I had to pass an open breakroom, but no one was inside. I knocked on the door to the bathroom and it was thankfully unoccupied, as well. Feeling like a criminal, I slipped inside, locked the door, and leaned against it for extra security.
The ventilation fan came on automatically with the light switch, drowning out the noises from the hallway. The isolating thrum reverberated through me and lifted goose bumps on the back of my neck. I was alone, in a place where I couldn’t readily justify my presence, and I was going to get myself off while people went about their lives and jobs feet away.
My nipples tightened and I squeezed my thighs together against the ache of excitement that sprang to life there.
I caught sight of myself in the mirror over the sink. The skin of my chest flushed red above the neckline of my green wrap dress, and my jerky pulse was visible in the hollow of my throat. I watched as if in a trance while the woman in the reflection did things I would certainly never have done in this same circumstance. She pulled her dress open and her bra down to bare herself. Then, she put a finger in her mouth to wet it and circled the hard peak of one nipple, making it shine with her own saliva.