Sweet Surrender (25 page)

“That is absolutely perfect for you, I have to say.” The salesgirl’s voice drifted in from behind them.

“Yes, it’s lovely, but I think I’ll keep looking.”

Before Jessie could stop her, Stacy asked, “How much is it?”

“Thirty-eight hundred dollars, at thirty percent off, it’s quite a bargain,” she answered with a smile.

Jessie’s face blanched of color as she swallowed. Holy crap! That was her flower, photographer, and invitation budget combined.

“Here is my card; you won’t find anything as exquisite for that price in the metro area, I promise.”

As they left the boutique, Jessie murmured, “I’ll go back to the mall. I’m sure they have something under a thousand dollars without the designer name and will include the alteration charge.”

She caught Stacy’s frown out of the corner of her eye. Marrying a wealthy man and quibbling about the cost of a dress made no sense to her friend. To Jessie it meant everything. She’d be damned if she proved the gossips right. Maybe Stacy had this right and she should go to Vegas. Then she wouldn’t have to deal with all the headaches of planning, or the dilemma of who would give her away.

Chapter Eighteen

Wine flowed freely and laughter rang out in the private dining room of La Scala, number one in the Detroit area when it came to fine dining Italian style. The boisterous group of twenty young women had gathered to celebrate another one of their own taking the plunge. The girls had consumed baskets of their signature garlic bread and an entrée of Jessie’s favorite, chicken Marsala. Once everyone had eaten their fill, their hostess stood and started the first round of toasts.

Tapping her glass of champagne with her fork, Stacy called for everyone’s attention. “Ladies, if I can tear you away from your cheesecake or tiramisu for a moment, it’s time to roast—uh, I mean toast our guest of honor.”

They giggled as their attention turned to Jessie who sat with cheeks aflame, a nervous jumble of dread and excitement. Looking around at the fun-loving group, who were grinning with wicked intent, she realized Stacy was right the first time; she was about to be roasted, mercilessly.

“Granted, we are doing this a bit early, but with Alyssa and Renee heading off to South America and parts unknown on a mission trip (a smattering of applause for their benevolence was heard), and Layla jetting off to Ireland for eight glorious weeks (a chorus of boos and good-natured jealous remarks followed)… Okay, okay! As I was saying, Jess wanted to have it early so all of you could attend.”

“That’s so sweet, Jessie,” Alyssa called.

“Yeah, we really didn’t want to miss it,” Renee added as she rose to her feet and with a wicked smile brought up a gift bag, which she presented with a dramatic bow. She followed it with a big hug and a kiss to Jessie’s cheek. “Let me know how it goes. I was thinking of ordering one for myself.”

Renee was one of her most adventurous friends in college, which made her almost afraid to see what was in the bag. Curiosity won out, however, and she removed the tissue paper and peeked inside. Her hand flew to her mouth and she blushed five shades of red.

“What is it?”

“Hold it up, girl.”

Clicks and flashes followed as she reached in the bag and withdrew a beginner’s bondage kit complete with a black satin blindfold, four satin restraints, a paddle, and a black velvet storage bag. Hoots and catcalls filled the room as she held up each item.

“There’s something else in the bag,” Alyssa called, laughing and elbowing Renee, who had gone in with her on the gift. She reached back inside and found a book. After reading the title, she laughed and with bright pink cheeks, held up the copy of
Fifty Shades of Grey
. “That’s Marc’s procedure manual if he has any questions.”

Jessie eyed her friends with a hint of a grin. “You two are the kinkiest missionaries I know.”

“Ha! We’re the only missionaries you know.” Renee pointed this out amidst the laughter.

The gifts and toasts continued as each woman rose and presented their gift bag or wrapped package. By the time she opened them all, the table was littered with fuzzy red handcuffs, an assortment of flavored massage oils, edible panties, a candy bra, several battery-operated insertable toys, and the bondage kit, of course. As Jessie looked over the lot, she joked with her friends that she was giving up nursing and opening a sex shop with the inventory they had provided.

“Wait, there’s one more,” one of the girls called as she passed up a large purple and black polka-dot bag labeled Intimate Treasures, which was a nearby lingerie and adult toy shop. Looking closer, Jessie noted that the design wasn’t polka dots at all, but a pattern of tiny black silhouettes of a couple amorously engaged.

Jessie closed her eyes, too afraid to look, and dug into the white tissue paper sticking out of the bag. As she pulled out the gift, the girls started howling and she simply had to peek. In her hand was Dicky Big Gulp, which was an obscenely large penis-shaped water bottle complete with balls and a drinking straw. Jenna, the giver of this amazing gift, walked up front and filled the purple plastic penis with champagne. “Notice, girls, that I picked out a Democratic dick ‘specially for Jess.”

“How’s that, Jenna?” Stacy asked, setting up the punchline perfectly.

“Isn’t it obvious that it’s a liberal cock?” She grabbed it and held it aloft. “See how the straw leans to the left?”

That sent the room into gales of laughter, so much so that the manager popped his head in and asked them to keep it down. The poor man couldn’t have been more than twenty-five and made a hasty retreat after seeing the naughty gifts covering the table, his face almost as red as Jessie’s.

They settled down as Stacy and one of the other girls brought out one final gift. It was an enormous, beautifully wrapped gift box with a large satiny white bow. “This is from all of us.”

When she unwrapped it and gently parted the tissue, Jessie turned misty-eyed. It was the wedding gown she wanted but had passed by because of the cost. Her eyes went to Stacy, who was also in tears. She was the only one who could have known that this was the one, the ideal wedding gown that every bride searched for, that fit her to a T and was so exquisitely beautiful, it would help make her special day picture-perfect.

“Oh, Stacy, it’s too much.”

“Nonsense, there are a bunch of us. It was nothing once divided,” Jenna said, smiling.

Heart overflowing with emotion, Jessie felt blessed to have such good friends. “Thank you all so much. It’s a dream dress and I’ll cherish it, always.”

Hugs, kisses, and tears overflowed the room to the point it was getting a bit too mushy. The manager poked his head back in to check on the situation at the precise moment Jenna hollered, “Enough crying. Bring on the stripper.”

The man choked and almost passed out on the spot. Stacy, whose credit card was likely covering the room rental, rushed to reassure him there would be no stripper. Jessie took that moment to run to the ladies’ room for what she felt was a much-needed repair to her makeup. Her mascara might be waterproof; the rest of it regrettably was not.

When she arrived at the hall for the restrooms, there was a line four deep in the hallway. Stepping up to the last girl, she asked, “Is this a line for the women’s restroom?”

The girl smiled anxiously at her and said in an exaggerated whisper, “Yep. It’s only a one-seater.”

Jess chuckled at the description, blowing out a breath as she settled in to wait. Leaning against the partition near the end of the hallway that separated it from the dining room, Jessie reflected on the night. Stacy had done a great job organizing the party. The venue was classy, the food divine, and the company perfect. It was fun to be out with the girls, some she hadn’t seen in months, and she always welcomed a chance to dress up. With scrubs and sneakers as her norm, wearing a dress and heels was a real treat. As she smoothed down the sides of her little black dress, she remembered Marc’s reaction before she left.

“I thought you were going to a bridal shower,” he’d said.

“I am. Well, actually it’s more of a bachelorette party. Why?”

“You look like you’re going clubbing, that’s why.”

Busy packing her evening clutch with her ID, money, lipstick—all the essentials—she hadn’t noticed his frown right away, but she heard his tone and her eyes flew to his.

His gaze was narrowed and set above his frown as he scanned down her body. “That dress is a bit skimpy for a girl’s night, isn’t it?”

Jessie looked down at her black halter dress. The eye-catching top glittered with sequins and drew attention to the draped neckline and hint of cleavage revealed. Her upper back was bare and the gathers at her hips made the fabric hug her ass, showing off Marc’s favorite of her assets. It was sexy, not too over the top, although it did more than a hint at the curves beneath.

She glanced back at him. “You picked out this dress, remember?”

“I thought I’d be with you when you wore it. You look like a walking wet dream in that scrap of material.”

She glanced down again, uncertain. “Everything important is well covered. I really don’t have anything else besides scrubs and jeans.”

“Then we need to go shopping.”

“What about tonight? We aren’t going bar hopping. The party’s at La Scala.” Gazing into his eyes, she could tell he was bothered, not angry, but it obviously didn’t sit well with him. If he thought it too much, it must be and she didn’t want to perpetuate the slut rumors, although she would be among friends. Loads of self-doubt crept in. “If you really don’t think it’s appropriate, I better see what else I have.” She’d already turned toward their closet when he caught her arm and stopped her.

“No, baby, you look fantastic. I’m being a jealous ass, wanting to keep you all to myself.”

“I don’t want to appear cheap. I’ll go see what else I can find.”

Before she took another step, his hands found the curves of her hips and ass and pulled her against him. As he buried his face in the curve of her neck, she heard him groan. “I didn’t mean to imply you looked cheap or anything other than absolutely beautiful. I’m sorry, baby. Maybe I need to come along as a bodyguard.”

Jessie stood still as his big hands moved lower and slid beneath the hem of her dress, which barely reached mid-thigh. She felt the glide of the material upward along with the brush of his eager fingers. “Thank God, you’re wearing panties.”

She snorted a laugh. “Did you think I wouldn’t be?”

“In my fantasies, you’re never wearing panties,
bella
.”

She leaned into him as his lips began to move along the bare skin of her neck and shoulder. At the same time, his fingers traced along the edge of her high-cut panties to the thin strip between her thighs, which was already damp. The sheer mesh panties were a mere scrap of material, but were the only pair she had that didn’t show the dreaded panty lines beneath her dress.

“These are the black panties with the little pink bow in the back, aren’t they?”

“Yes.”

“Damn, Jess, you’re killing me.”

“But, Marc, you bought these for me too.”

“I know. Again, I thought I was buying them for my enjoyment. Knowing you were wearing them under your dress and dreaming about taking them off with my teeth. Why do you think I picked them out?”

She had to admit he had excellent taste in clothes, especially lingerie. Marc was one of the few men she’d been with that actually wanted to go clothes shopping with her. Although a man who liked football, outdoors, and all things manly, he didn’t seem to mind going to the mall with her. He said he wanted to make sure she didn’t skimp, as she was likely to do.

He particularly liked helping her make her selections at Victoria’s Secret. The first trip had mortified her, but she had adapted over the past few months. He had expensive taste too. No cheap slutty undies from her man; instead he liked satin, lace, and thank the good lord he didn’t care a lot for a thong either. He’d declared right there in the middle of the store that if her ass cheeks were going to be bare, she might as well go without any panties at all.

Jessie was not going commando and for her, thongs were a definite no go. Her philosophy being that she’d had spent her entire life trying to keep her panties out of her crack; she certainly had no desire to put them there intentionally, not for fashion’s sake, that was for sure.

Marc surprisingly liked lace boy shorts, appreciating the way the lace cupped her cheeks below, leaving a hint of curve exposed.

“They’re damn hot,” he’d said, “on that ass, a veritable work of art.”

He also liked demi-bras, matching sets of bras and panties, and stockings, with or without garters. Often he’d surprise her with a gift for no reason, requiring only that she play Victoria’s Secret model as thanks.

As his fingers teased below the lace at the leg opening, she acknowledged how nice it was that he was so attentive, down to the smallest detail sometimes. “If the dress bothers you, I’ll change. Into what, I’m not sure—”

“Overalls and a flannel shirt?”

She arched back in order to frown up at him. She was offering to please him and he was joking? His sexy grin made her heart flip flop as usual and she couldn’t work herself into a good mad. It was a compliment that he found her dress so sexy, wasn’t it?

“How about a muumuu?”

Now that got her tickled.

“A burlap sack? Better yet, I’ve got a tarp in the garage, I think.”

His suggestions got progressively more outrageous. In the end, he’d said he was fine with her dress and simply cautioned her to bundle up, maybe wear her long woolen coat and since it would probably be chilly in the restaurant, instead of checking it, she should probably leave it on—buttoned up to her chin—until she came back home to him later tonight.

They had both laughed at that as well as his overreaction.

“Did you see her?” A woman’s voice from the other side of the partition caught her attention. “No matter what designer you dress her in, she can’t hide that chunky body.” That was an ugly remark. Not caring to hear more, Jessie pushed off against the wall, as with perfect timing the line moved. The next words stopped her cold in her stilettos.