Wedding Night Stand: A Chic Manila short story (3 page)

“You’re not shaking at all,” she whispered. “No hesitation.”

“I’m not hesitating.”

She wanted her hands on him somewhere. How could she not. Her right hand landed gently on his chest, somewhere between his heart and the third button of his shirt, and the hard skin underneath expanded with his sharp breath.

And throughout this he didn’t take those eyes off her. Geraldine was resisting this every day how? Was she actually a robot?

“Are you cold?” he said.

“I’m not,” she replied, before she thought of a better answer.

He
thought of the better answer. “Let’s say you are, anyway. Cold.”

And then it all fell into place for her, with that last word, what was it about Damon that was keeping her riveted: He knew what he was doing.

“All right, let’s say I am.”

“Is my hand warm enough for you?”

His hand was warm but obviously not enough. Andrea was in fact slightly annoyed that it had stopped moving, inside her dress. “No.”

“Where else do you want to touch me, Andrea?”

“I’m wondering what your hair feels like.”

“You’re free to find out.”

“Am I.” Her other hand made it up there, but not without making a trail through an arm, doing a detour around his neck, and then up his nape and into the thick, surprisingly soft…

Oh god. It was the kind of hair she’d grab onto by the fistful. And then she kind of did, just a little. If nothing else had been an opening move, that was as good as any, and with a smooth nudge her body was pressed against all of Damon.

Aroused Damon.

“That feels fucking good,” he said.

His hand, the one inside her dress, dipped lower, found a more secure hold in the curve that it discovered underneath. She moved, or he moved her, or they moved together, and the accidental on purpose friction made her gasp.

And Damon continued to hold her in place, right where she could so easily…

“Don’t say ‘fucking,’” she said, and it sounded like she was pleading. “You’re, um, not shy.”

“No one else is here.”

“We’re in full view of a wedding reception with two hundred guests.”

“They’re busy and none of them are looking this way, Andrea. They’ll think we’re just dancing.” He nudged his hips down, and up, ever so slightly, his erection not at all misrepresented by his trousers. He felt
so good
.

She couldn’t remember thinking that way about anyone before. Or thinking that way, period.

“I’m not in the mood to dance, Damon.”

Down, and up, but this time his hand had gone up her back again and the pressure on either side made the surge of pleasure a little more intense. “
Oh god.”

“What are you in the mood for, Andrea?”

I want to be with someone who knows what he’s doing. Right here and now.

“You know we can’t.”

He paused, but didn’t move away. She felt the light brush of his lips on her forehead. “You’re confusing
can’t
and
shouldn’t
.”

What? No. And whatever.

“Make it good for you, Andrea.”

“What?”

“What you want. Take it. Trust me.” Three lazy thrusts, every single one burning through the layers of clothing between them, and her resolve.

A moment later and both her hands were in his hair, and she braced herself up against him, knowing just how she could “make it good” for herself. She was so close already. It wasn’t going to take much.

So right there, in the gazebo, just a few feet away from the dancing and revelry of an actual wedding, she made the choice. First it was gentle, and then not so gentle, how she circled her hips against Damon Esquibel, officemate of the groom. And as she did it she found herself letting go of
feelings
that had been plaguing her, because once you choose to get yourself off in a semi-public place, you forfeit a percentage of your shame, and maybe that was what she needed to do.

Shame, begone.

The orgasm that awaited her felt like a fireworks display set off too soon, and angled up too high. Damon captured what might have been her scream in his mouth, the kiss holding her steady, until the sparks traveled down to the tips of her toes and her lips lazily nipped at his.

“Andrea?” she heard him say, against her mouth, when it was all over.

“Um. Yeah.”

“You okay?”

“Yes.” Understatement. She felt like two walls inside her head were knocked down. She wanted to fly. And more silly thoughts. “But you didn’t—You haven’t—” She cleared her throat, trying to remember what was supposed to happen next. And they were still fully clothed.

“You’re welcome.” Tenderly, maybe, he straightened the strap on her shoulder. “It’s not about reciprocating.”

“But—”

“You look beautiful. If he saw you like this and hurt you, he’s just an idiot.”

It was a compliment she was willing to accept, except she wasn’t sure it was the same thing. She felt different. Like she came in a totally different way. Also, she was not making sense.

“Well, Geraldine’s missing out on a stellar experience. Would definitely recommend it.”

Yeah, not making sense.

He smiled. “She hasn’t tried it. She can’t miss it then.”

His words were barely registering because her entire body was still happily buzzing, and leaning into him became necessary to stay upright.

***

“He’s staying over at the guest pavilion. I can find his room number for you if you want it.”

“What?”

She didn’t get to tell Daphne much. In fact she was barely in the conversation she and Daphne were having, because she was still on a cloud somewhere. She said something about kissing him, and she wasn’t sure if Daphne could tell that her dazed demeanor wasn’t the result of
just a kiss
.

But Andrea didn’t know Damon was staying over at the seaside resort. Because they didn’t talk much, after. She kind of got frazzled, and wasn’t sure how to say goodbye, so she just stumbled out of the gazebo. Nice. Very mature and classy.

Her mouth was still hanging open, wordlessly, as Daphne unlocked her phone and started scrolling through something. “Damon Esquibel. Solo room, Gardenia 3.”

“I don’t know about this, Daphne,” she said, her voice unnaturally high.

“It’s too far to walk in those shoes, so I can have one of the guys take you in a golf cart.”

“That’s not necessary…”

“Hey.”

Andrea felt a hand, cool from beer can condensation, on her wrist, and it almost helped her focus. It got her to zero in on the face in front of her, instead of the one she was looking at in her head. “Um, sorry. I’m so not here right now.”

“I can see that. I’m going to give you a little push right now, just like I did for your sister when we first met. Do you know that story?”

If Andrea did, she couldn’t recall it right then. Along with other things, like her middle name, her ATM PIN…

Daphne smiled slyly. “I told her not to quit until she sees where this leads.”

“Huh?”

“Say it.
I will not quit until I see where this leads.”

“I will not quit...this sounds silly—”

“Until what, Andrea?”

Right then the breeze picked up, and Andrea felt it tug at her hair and her dress.

“Until I see where this leads,” she said, obediently, to herself.

***

Now that was interesting, Damon thought, still trying to figure out what just happened.

He stopped by the mini bar atop the refrigerator in the resort hotel room before anywhere else, and eyed the selection. He was thirsty. Also horny, but he was not going to do anything about it just yet. He tugged at his tie until his neck was free from it.

There was a small bottle of rum. He went for that.

It was almost one a.m. Still early. If he tried hard enough, he’d be able to put the night back on track, and get Geraldine into this room as planned. He thought he almost had it in the bag. Damon’s mind worked this way, because he had always been about a slow and steady chase. He'd been that way all his life, and with most things about it—career, money, and women. But then Andrea—

Just remembering her and how she came apart so spectacularly against him gave the turning wheels in his head a jolt.

There was a soft knock on his door, just then. He was halfway there when it creaked open.

“It’s not locked,” Andrea said, already inside, and actually curious. “Were you expecting somebody?”

***

They talked for about a minute.

“I don’t normally do this,” she said.

“You’re making an exception for me then? I’m honored,” he said.

“I also want to let you know that I’m sure you’re an intelligent, responsible person, based on the few hours that I’ve known you.”

“I don’t think you can ever be sure of that.”

She shrugged, an adorable shake that tilted her body more to one side. “Oh I just said that so you don’t feel I’m just here because you’re hot.”

He laughed and pulled her to him, crushing her mouth under his. The beginnings of a giggle smothered in it, became a moan as he pushed deeper with his tongue. He felt her fingers fumble for his buttons and he let her do the work of taking his clothing off; she seemed to like it. Fingertips lingered at the buttons, and then slipped underneath, taking stock of the lines that went down his abdomen.

“You work out,” she moaned. “I hate you.”

“Are you complaining?”

“I will be if you’re bad at this. I’m kind of expecting the night of my life right now.”

Oh he was ready to give her one. He’d raise the bar for any guy who dared touch her, he told himself, and hungrily went for her neck.

“Wait,” she said, “I know you said no reciprocating but I don’t feel right about taking and not giving back.”

He felt his belt buckle being pulled toward her. In a moment that was gone, thrown somewhere into the room, and she peeled the rest of his clothing off him, all the while remaining in her dress.

Not fair, he started to think, until warm hands wrapped around the part of him that ached for her. The intensity of how his body reacted to her surprised him, but he was all wound up from their private dance earlier. He growled and tried to back them onto the bed, but she pulled at his arm to keep them from falling on it.

“Not yet. Keep standing.”

He was going to collapse if she stroked him further. And she did.

“You have to tell me how you want it.”

“Like that.”

“You’re very easy to please.”

“I am, I’m going to be pleased all over your hand in a minute if you keep doing that.”

“You can take it.”

His hands tangled in her hair and pulled almost painfully. “I don’t want to come like this.”

She was smiling as her hand worked. “How do you want to then?”

“Inside you. Now.”

Their eyes met, and a flicker of
really? this? now?
passed between them. Andrea stepped back and let him pick up his pants to get the condom lodged in one of the pockets. As she watched him she pulled the straps of her dress down and let it fall to her feet.

He had guessed,
hoped
, but finally confirmed it—no bra. Her breasts were being cradled by padding sewn into the dress, because that revealing pattern on her back that he had obsessed over couldn’t have hidden the straps. Damon reached out instinctively to touch her, but she had other ideas.

“How do
you
want it?” he rasped.

She crawled onto the bed, on her knees, that smooth skin sliding over the sheets. She tossed him a smile. “Like this.”

***

He learned two interesting things later, after a nap and another go. The first one was that Geraldine had sent him a message:
Where’s your room?

He dismissed the text with a swipe of his finger. He wasn’t doing her any favors tonight.

And the second, that Andrea was going to be working at an office building two blocks from his, on Monday.

“Is that going to be weird?” she asked.

He wasn’t a teenager; he could handle having former hookups nearby. He never felt uncomfortable about it because he never had any unresolved feelings for them. 

“No,” he said.

“Okay, good,” Andrea said, visibly relieved. “I don’t like having to avoid walking somewhere just so I don’t run into someone, you know.”

What she said barely registered, because he was fixated on her right hip, slightly elevated because she had turned to face him. He traced its curve with his index finger, lazily settling his hand higher, knuckles brushing not accidentally on the underside of one breast. It had been in his mouth, that part of her, just minutes ago, which left her own mouth free to scream to the ceiling. Twice. She was not like an ice princess, of that he was certain. Her energy was exhilarating, but it radiated as well even when she was quiet, like this.