Page 17 of Midnight Kisses (Spicy Fat Cinderella Retelling)
PERRY
Our wedding was vibrant, extravagant, and perfect in every way. Much like my husband.
We got married at a large estate up North. Helen openly sobbed when my parents walked me down the aisle, and even my dad was misty-eyed as Miles and I exchanged vows.
My dress was a custom design by my friend Georgia, who was enthusiastic about putting a plus size bride in a sleek, figure-hugging dress. Other bridal places tried to stuff me into large ball gowns, telling me they were the most ‘flattering’ for curvy brides.
The look on Miles’ face when he saw me for the first time was flattering enough.
Best of all, I wasn’t going to need Tala and three other bridesmaids to help me hold the thing when I needed to go to the bathroom.
After our ceremony, when Miles and I had taken what felt like thousands of photos down by the lake, we stopped off at the main house to freshen up before sitting down for an al fresco dinner with a hundred of our nearest and dearest.
We’d just walked into the door when he grabbed my hand and pulled me into a receiving room.
“Miles!”
He leaned against the doorframe and looked me up and down. “Have I told you how beautiful you look, wife?”
Wife.
It wasn’t the first time he’d called me this. The night I proposed to him, he’d said it during sex and I came so hard I worried that I was going to burst a blood vessel.
“Yes, you have, husband .”
He leaned his head back and groaned. “Hearing you say that does things to me.”
The things were mutual, because then we were on each other, kissing like we’d never kissed before and worried someone was going to tear us apart. Like that could ever happen.
“Be careful of my dress,” I gasped as he kissed his way down my neck.
Without breaking a kiss, he began guiding me backwards until the backs of my knees hit resistance. I looked and saw a chaise lounge. Of course.
“Lie down there and pull your skirts up for me. Let me lick that pretty pussy.”
“Miles, I don’t know if we have time?—”
“It’s our wedding.” He threw a cushion on the floor and knelt on top of it. “I don’t give a fuck if our guests have to wait until my wife comes on my face before they can have their entrees. I want my entree.”
Such a charmer, my husband.
I gathered my hem in my hands and pulled it up to my hips, propping my knees up and spreading them so Miles could feast the way he liked.
He wasted no time, tonguing up the wetness my body had made in anticipation, and sliding his fingers into my body to thrust and curl, driving me out of my mind.
I leaned back and focused on breathing as he pushed his face into my pussy and worshipped me.
I was already trembling when he sat up. Between my legs, his mouth and chin glistened and his eyes were laser focused on his hand as he worked in and out of me.
I whimpered.
“You can’t see this darling, but trust me, it’s an incredible sight. I’ll never forget the time I finger-fucked my bride before her reception.”
“ Miles .”
“Come on, blondie, let go for me. Do it now, while I’m watching. I want to see my wife come on my hand.”
With a guttural groan my body tightened over his fingers, and I fell apart in a series of world-tilting revelations.
When I could think again, I insisted my husband unbuckle his pants for me so I could taste his climax. And he was right, because the taste of his completion—always one of my favourite things—was especially satisfying on the day of our wedding.
We’d just righted our wedding clothes, minus one pocket square which had been sacrificed to the clean up efforts, when there was a knock at the door.
“Sorry to be the bearer of bad news,” Sadie called, “but it’s my duty as best person to tell you to stop fucking and come and celebrate with your guests.”
“We’re not!” I called, just as Miles said, “We just finished!”
Sadie snorted and her footsteps retreated.
Miles waited while I tried to fix my hair, which he’d gripped as he climaxed, and arm in arm, we went and joined our party.
Happy, satisfied, and ready for our ever after.
THE END