Page 19 of Sex, Lies, and Margarita Mixes

DAMAGE CONTROL AND “THE DRESS”

ROXY

The dress arrives in a giant garment bag. I take a photo of it and send it to Mari Lynn.

She texts me back almost immediately.

Mari Lynn

Babe, this dress is giving ‘runaway bride who’s packing tequila and bad decisions under the tulle.’

Use it wisely.

I snort as I read it and stare at the dress.

It really is something.

It’s a strapless ballgown covered in subtle sequins and delicate embroidery that’s practically screaming for a wind machine and a slow-motion twirl. The bodice is snatched tighter than my sanity, the skirt poofs out like a luxury dessert cart, and the whole thing smells faintly of vanilla and sass.

It’s perfect.

Chase whistles low behind me. “Well damn, Mrs. West.”

Turning, I face him. He’s leaning in the doorway of the hotel bathroom, shirtless, of course, towel slung low on his hips, showing off that “V” that makes me lose my mind and has me on my knees, literally, far too often.

His hair is damp and messy from the shower.

He’s in here looking like he walked straight off the cover of Smoldering Husbands Who Soak Their Wives Panties Monthly.

His drags his gaze down my body and it feels like a caress, lingering at the curve of my waist and the deep—and I mean deep —plunge of the neckline. “You planning to reclaim your company’s reputation… or start an OnlyFans?”

I smirk and shimmy as I drop my shorts and step into the dress, shooting him a look from over my shoulder as I reply, “Why not both?”

He grins and pushes off the doorframe. “If you’re gonna film this redemption reel in that dress… you better let me zip it now and unzip it after .”

I roll my eyes but present my back to him. “Fine. But keep your hands on the outside of the dress, Mr. West.” His fingertip drags down my spine. “For now .”

His warm hands slide to my hips instead, softly squeezing them.

“That’s not where my hands wanna be.” He zips it.

My head rolls forward as he leans in, his lips brushing against the side of my neck before his warm breath tickles the shell of my ear as he groans, “Baby… you’re a vision. You’re gonna break the internet.”

“Damn right, I am,” I mutter, reaching for the makeup bag. “But only after you get your lusty paws off me so I can film this reel before you make me ruin this expensive as fuck dress.”

“I’ll stick a pin in it.” He steps back but smacks my ass. His eyes meet mine in the mirror. “I’ll be watching from the bed.” He drops the towel. “Naked.” And lies back on the bed, setting one arm behind his head, he stares at me while he fists his cock.

Groaning, I flip him off in the mirror. “Behave.”

He winks and continues the slow stroking. “Never.”

He’s going to kill me… or have me accidentally post a sex tape live on the damn internet!

Setting up the phone tripod in the middle of the hotel room, I try to ignore my mouthwatering husband and test the angles, making sure the balcony doors let in just enough sunset glow to halo me in golden light.

The dress sparkles. My hair’s curled and pinned half up.

My lips are matte red. My face is utter perfection. And Chase is nowhere in the frame.

Thank God.

I lift a margarita glass. Lower my sunglasses.. just enough—and give the camera my best saucy smirk.

“I still believe in love. I just don’t believe in bullshit,” I say, raising the glass in a toast.

A slow-motion spin. A wink over my bare shoulder. I take a sip, smile, then, say the words, “Next chapter. Coming soon.”

Done. I think I killed that shit.

Chase slow claps from the bed. “Oscar-worthy, baby.”

I check the playback. It’s absolute fire. I schedule the post for first thing tomorrow, tag our business account, Mari Lynn, and every other wedding blog I’ve ever bribed with cake pops, plus, a few I just know follow us.

As I hit save, Chase huskily calls from the bed. “Video is done and now… your zipper’s asking to be freed, babe.”

I turn. He’s stretched across the bed, legs wide, hard, beautiful cock in his hand. He looks smug… and hot, as hell.

“You’re an asshole for making me do that in this ” I gesture to myself, “while you laid there… like that .” I mutter.

He grins and raises his brow. “You were a pro.” He sits up watches me. “And now, it’s my turn.” Standing, he stares at me as he slowly crosses the room, stalking me like prey. “I zipped, and now, I get to unzip .”

I watch him watch me and glance at the mirror. The dress fits me like a dream.

He reaches me and his hands drift up my arms. I shiver at his touch and manage to say, “Careful, baby. This is a very expensive dress.”

“I’ll be gentle.” He growls.

“You’ve never been gentle.” I reply.

“Exactly.” He pulls me against him. My back to his front. Through the thick tulle, I feel his erection pressed against my ass.

I moan as he cups my breasts through the corset top. His fingers slip beneath the tight bodice and he touches my nipples. We’re watching him toy with me through the reflection. My head falls back and rests on his shoulder. “The dress stays on.” I groan.

He grins, “Okay, but that means… you’re riding.”

Releasing me, he walks back to the bed. Sitting, he crooks his finger at me. I walk toward him, hips swinging, shoes clicking against the hardwood floor. He watches me like I’m dessert. Like he’s starving.

“God, Roxy,” he murmurs. “You’re unreal.”

I stand between his knees. “Show me.”

His hands manage to get under the massive skirt, and he grips my hips.

Fisting the dress, he bunches it and tries to kiss the tops of my thighs, the skirt is too full.

Growling, he holds the dress with his entire arm while his other hand trails over the slight curve of my belly before reaching the underside of my breasts.

The bodice lifts them sky-high. His hands roam over the sequins cupping me, tracing the embroidery.

“You’re mine,” he murmurs against my skin.

“Always,” I whisper back.

Lifting the skirt higher, he ducks under it, disappearing beneath the layers and layers of tulle. I laugh.

I look like a Barbie dress birthday cake.

“Babe, you cannot?—”

He grabs my knee, lifts my leg, and sets my foot on the bed. Then, somehow, his tongue finds me.

“Oh my— Chase… ”

A muffled groan comes from under the dress. My knees buckle.

He pulls my thighs tighter around his face, his hands anchoring me as his tongue strokes and circles, relentlessly. My hands scrabble at the skirt, fisting tulle, pulling it up to try to see his dark head buried between my thighs.

He glances up, eyes dark and wicked and hair stuck to his forehead and neck with sweat. His lips glisten with my juices.

“We cannot get cum on this dress,” I gasp as I ride his face.

He stops licking me to smirk and growl, “No promises.” Then, he dives back in.

I rock against him. My thighs are trembling. My breath is catching. I moan, “Ohhhh, Chase… Oh, shit… Fuck me… Ohhhhhhh…” I see stars. I see the damn invoice flashing in my brain as his tongue curls inside me and his thumb presses just right. I scream, “Chase…. Fucking, Chase…. ”

I break apart, my fingers are clinging to the bedpost for balance as my entire body convulses.

He emerges from the tulle a minute later, face shining with victory… and so much sweat.

“Still believe in love, babe?” he teases. “It’s like a sauna down there.”

I pant. “Shut up and get inside me.”

He stands, lifts me onto the bed, flips me onto my hands and knees, and shoves the dress over my head. My bare ass is in the air.

“Wedding night redo,” he rasps as he slides inside of my pussy. Deep. Slow. Delicious.

He ruins the dress exactly the way I knew he would.

Worth it.

So. Fucking. Worth. It.

Best. Business. Expense. Ever.

When we finally collapse, sweaty and tangled in acres of tulle, he kisses the shell of my ear and whispers, “You’re gonna be okay, Roxy. You’re unstoppable.”

I smile, exhausted, sated, and utterly wrecked in the best way possible.

“Yeah,” I murmur.

And for the first time in a long time… I actually believe it.