tmp0 (4 page)

I’d have to come up with a
sudden stomach flew. Hell, between the Hurricanes and the horror of
this whole night, I could probably vomit all over him right now with
no problem.

His nostrils flared. “To
me. To them. Hell, I don’t know.”

He flung the door wide and left
me alone, open-mouthed and scared shitless. John was going to go
through with this.

That nausea was starting to set
in pretty well as I watched John grab his brother and pull him out of
the room and into the hall. Maybe they were escaping. That would be
perfect, except I wasn’t exactly sure how I would do the same
because there were about twenty men staring at me now, waiting for me
to take my clothes off.

That’s it. No more
Hurricanes for me ever. They led to really poor judgment and
situations such as this. I slammed the bedroom door closed and tried
to remember to breathe. As I leaned against the wood I heard the
exterior door open again and slam shut.

“
Hey, John. Where’d
Tim go? The show’s about to start.”

“
He, uh, had something he
had to do.” His response came through the door sounding muffled
but I heard it just fine. Tim had left but John had stayed.

“
Now? Right before the
stripper? Your brother is fucking weird.”

“
Yeah. I know.”

A loud knock against the wood
directly behind my head had me jumping. I smothered a cry.

“
Come on, sweetie pie.
We’re waiting on you.” It sounded like O’Hagan’s
voice. Apparently he was the entertainment coordinator for the
evening.

“
Okay. Be ready in a
minute.” What was I going to do?

Leaning my head back, I tried to
think. Beth needed me. She had to know the truth about John. And I
owed it to her to give him the opportunity to be the man she fell in
love with. I had to pretend to go along with this and hope he did the
right thing in the end. I’d go out there and give John the
chance to turn me down.

Somehow I had the confidence he
would. Maybe it was how distraught he’d looked when I’d
told him what O’Hagan wanted me to do.

I leaned one hand against the
door and stepped out of my jeans. Cool, air-conditioned air hit my
ass cheeks. Every guy out there was about to get a good look at me
bare-assed. And in two days I’d be in front of them all in a
church. I touched the mask one more time and hoped it stayed on.

I opened the door wearing nothing
but the corset, thongs and heels…and the mask, of course. The
men showed their appreciation with whistles and catcalls. Music had
already been pumping out of the speakers when I’d walked in so
I started my routine. I’d taken that exercise class twice a
week for a year. I remembered it well enough, though I’d never
done it in a thong and corset. It was all I could do to not hike the
top higher so my nipples didn’t accidentally pop out. I guess
that’s what was supposed to happen. Theoretically.

My heart pounded in time with the
music, fast and hard. The guest of honor sat in an armchair in the
middle of the room. I focused my dance there and circled him.
Standing behind the chair, I ran my hands down the front of his
shirt, all the way to the waist of his pants before I moved back up
again. The whole time I willed him to push my hands away, get up and
leave.

He didn’t.

The groans of the men showed they
weren’t happy with me for stopping my fondling short of his
pants. I came back around to the front, bent and braced my palms on
his thighs, praying he’d ask me to stop. Again, he didn’t.
Instead, his eyes narrowed as he watched my every move.

I felt his gaze like a physical
heat on my skin as he took in my breasts and the motion of my hips.
His lips parted as he began to breathe through his mouth.

Shit. Was I turning him on? This
was not good. Not good at all. How was I ever going to tell Beth? How
was I ever going to even look at her again after this?

“
Give him a lap dance,”
someone shouted.

We hadn’t covered lap
dances in my gym’s Strip Yourself Slim class, but I could
probably figure it out. Not that I wanted to.

“
Wait. Hold on a second.”
O’Hagan held up one hand. “I think John’s a little
overdressed. What do you guys think?”

He came toward us and I backed
away as a group of men surrounded the groom. When they stepped back,
the groom was red-faced and without pants. Thank God they’d
left him his underwear and his shirt so I wouldn’t have to look
at something no maid of honor should ever see on the groom.

“
Now you can give him that
lap dance.” O’Hagan balled up the pants and tossed them
across the room.

A wave of dizziness hit me. I
didn’t know if it was the alcohol I’d consumed or the
fact I was about to sit in John’s lap with nothing between us
except for a thin string of itchy lace and his boxer briefs. Maybe
this would be the breaking point. The thing that made him dump me on
the ground, stand up and declare his love for Beth right before he
stormed out of the room.

With that hope firmly in my mind
I turned my bare ass toward him. I braced most of my weight on the
arms of the chair and did a little wiggle over him. I nearly fell
when his hands landed on my hips and followed my motion. The last
thing I’d expected was for him to touch me.

He pressed me lower. I felt the
outline of his erection brush my ass and changed my mind, deciding
that
was the last
thing I could have ever anticipated. His hand guided me, making me
rub against his hard-on. I panicked, lifting up and away from what I
really did not want to feel. He simply pulled me closer again, his
hands tighter on me as he held me there.

“
We can help you off with
those underwear too, man,” someone joked.

“
I’m good. Thanks.”
We were so close, his voice vibrated through me.

I turned my head and looked over
my shoulder to shoot him an angry look, even while I continued to
gyrate and keep up the act. “You could tell them you don’t
want to do this because you’re getting married in two days.”

The guys were cheering and
generally being loud assholes so I figured I could risk the lecture
in the middle of my lap dance.

His brows drew low into a frown.
“What do you care?”

“
I care because you’re
marrying my—” I’d almost said my best friend. I
scrambled to recover from my near slip. “My fellow woman. You
shouldn’t do this just because your friends want you to.”

He let out a bitter laugh.
“Believe me. They’re not
my
friends and you don’t know what’s really happening here
so just do your dance and keep that sexy mouth closed…unless
you’d like me to keep it otherwise occupied.”

Christ, was he looking for a
blowjob? That was too much to do, even for my best friend.

He punctuated his declaration by
wrapping his arms completely around me. One of his hands moved low,
cupping my pussy, holding me there as he rhythmically pressed his
dick into the flesh of my ass. He moved his other hand beneath the
corset. He palmed my breast, rubbing until my nipple hardened.

“
What are you doing?”

He palmed my pussy harder,
constantly moving and making me feel things inside I didn’t
want to. “If I hear you come, I’ll be able to, even with
these dickheads watching.”

I let out a huff. “I don’t
care if you come or not.”

His touch was starting to get to
me. I hated it, but not as much as I hated myself for wanting more.
Each thrust of him behind me rocked me against his hand. My muscles
clenched, which only upped the intensity of the sensations shooting
through me.

He pinched my nipple and pleasure
shot like lightning directly to my pussy. “You should care.
They’re not going to be satisfied until I do. I come, you can
go.”

That was his plan? It wasn’t
a very good one in my opinion. Not only did I not want my best
friend’s fiancé coming with me sitting in his lap, but
it pissed me off he wouldn’t just tell his supposed friends no.
That he didn’t want to have pseudo sex with a stripper right
before his wedding.

Was that so hard?

All I knew was the cock digging
into my backside certainly was. Hard. Big.

I didn’t agree to his plan,
but I guess I didn’t object too strongly either. I gasped as
the bastard began to work my clit through the lace and I began to
hate him with all of the fires of hell. I’d been too long
without a man’s hands on me and my body responded with an
overwhelming need to his touch. My muscles clenched and I set my jaw,
fighting against the pleasure. It was a losing battle.

My orgasm hovered just out of
reach as my mind wrestled with my body. It didn’t matter. He
increased the intensity of his targeted assault and there was no use.
My breath caught. I had to stifle a moan.

“
Don’t fight it.”
His breath hit my ear as he whispered low.

That was it. I couldn’t
fight it anymore. As the spasms gripped me, his breath came faster.
His hold grew tighter. I knew what that meant.

I’d just ruined my best
friend’s life.

I was the worst maid of honor
ever.

He stiffened beneath me. I felt
wetness seep through the panties, warm against my skin. His groan
vibrated through my back. It was loud enough to alert the crowd to
his big moment. I squeezed my eyes closed, but it didn’t help.
It didn’t change what had just happened. Nor did it block out
the cheers of the crowd, applauding and cheering.

I pushed off his lap. He let me
go. I mumbled something about having to clean up and fled for the
other room. Inside I saw my cup, still sitting untouched. If there
was ever a time I needed a drink, it was now. I picked it up and took
a large swallow of what tasted like vodka and cranberry. Maybe with
something else thrown in there too. I didn’t care, as long as
it dulled the reality of what had just happened.

How the hell could I have
succumbed to him like that? I needed to get a boyfriend or a
vibrator. Drinking as I walked, I’d just gotten to the bathroom
sink when there was a knock on the bedroom door.

Without waiting for me to answer,
the cheating bastard groom popped his head inside. “Can I come
in?”

“
You just came on my ass
and now you decide to be formal?” I let out a bitter snort of a
laugh. “Yeah, sure. Come on in.”

He eyed me strangely. “What
are you so mad at, darlin’?”

“
Men.” I concentrated
on running the water in the sink until it got hot. Not that I was
going to strip out of my sticky thongs now with him in the room, but
it gave me something to do. Something besides look at myself in the
mirror as I tried to decide if this mask I still had on looked sexy
or ridiculous.

“
All men. Or just me?”
He sounded amused. I wasn’t.

“
Right now, just you.”
I’d pretty much dropped the stripper persona. I was done with
this sham. All I wanted to do was get out of this room and this
outfit.

“
All right.” He let
out a short laugh.

For good measure, I shot another
nasty look at the cheating scumbag just as he stripped off his shirt,
leaving him in only underwear. But since those were tight and white
and damp in the front, I could see pretty much everything so he might
as well have been naked.

Great. I grabbed the cup and took
another gulp.

I tried and failed to not look at
his reflection in the mirror as he reached to turn on the water in
the tub. Damn, Marines had nice bodies… And I was surely going
to hell for that observation.

He bent and started to scrub at
the hem of the polo shirt under the tub spout.

I couldn’t stand it any
longer. I had to ask, “What the hell are you doing?”

“
Rinsing this out.”

“
Is this fastidiousness a
Marine thing?”

Marci had said he was neat and
controlling. Both were proving true. I remembered his hands on me,
making me move the way he wanted. I scowled at his reflection in the
mirror and wondered if they all made sure to rinse their sperm out of
their clothing in a timely manner. Banking my anger to save for later
when I had to break Beth’s heart, I grabbed my cup and finished
the rest of the drink.

“
No, but it’s not my
shirt.” His arm muscles flexed as he wrung the dripping fabric.

I wondered who the hell it
belonged to if not him, but I wasn’t interested enough to
bother asking. He flipped it over a towel rack and turned back and
something struck me.

I reviewed my conversation with
Beth in the car on the way from the airport.
It’s
a good thing John has a USMC tattoo on his shoulder and Tim doesn’t…
They used to switch places all the time growing up.

I spun to face him. “Where’s
your tattoo?”

“
What?” He took a
step back. It didn’t help. The bathroom was small and I was
determined.

Grabbing both his arms, I
inspected his shoulders. I even turned him around and checked his
shoulder blades, just in case. Nothing. No ink at all.