Pulling myself out, my cock springs free still hard and ready for round two. I should give myself a few minutes, so I grab the shampoo bottle and squeeze a drop into my hand, lathering the foam all over my head as I massage it in.
“You’ve just ruined something that should have been special on our wedding night,” she says blankly, still standing in the same position.
I laugh. What a ridiculous notion. “I don’t understand what’s going on, but I’m sorry I just fucked you. Is that what you’re after?”
“I’m after you taking this wedding stuff serious,” she shouts.
“God, would you listen to yourself?” I almost yell back. “We already live together, Zoey, practically like a married couple. The only thing missing is a stupid certificate. I’m trying to take it seriously, but it’s becoming a joke. The next thing you’ll want is an orchestra playing and doves bringing our wedding rings to us.”
There’s silence, her faced racked with guilt.
“Don’t fucking tell me there’s an orchestra and doves bringing us wedding rings?”
“They don’t bring them. They kinda just drop them in your hands.”
I shoot her an annoyed look stepping out of the shower while I grab a towel to quickly dry myself. Roughly rubbing the towel against my skin, I use it as a way to vent my frustration. “And I’m guessing those doves don’t work for free?”
“Not exactly.”
Wrapping the towel around my waist, I turn to face her standing still in the shower—naked. I wish her body didn’t distract me, but I’m beyond furious at this stupid dove thing. We aren’t fucking royalty the last time I checked.
“I still want to build a house next year. And I’d hate to think you’re spending all our money just to show off to a bunch of people I don’t care about.”
“How dare you say that about me?” she follows, stepping out and grabbing her pink towel. Without drying herself off, she wraps it around her body and tucks it in just above her left breast. “We don’t get a do-over, Drew. This will be our only wedding day. I want it to be special.”
“Special doesn’t have to deplete our savings,” I warn her. “It’s Mia’s fault. She’s getting in your head.”
“It’s not Mia’s fault, and she isn’t getting in my head.”
“Yeah, whatever,” I mumble. “I bet she likes to tell you how perfect of a man Slater is.”
Zoey laughs, grabbing her brush and running it through her hair. “Yeah, she does. Doesn’t mean I listen.”
Her comment throws me off, and that pang of jealousy hits me once again. I grab her wrist and pull her to me. Her towel loosens its hold and drops to the floor. Turning her, I wrap my arms around her waist as our reflection greets us in the mirror.
“I don’t want you near him, do you understand?”
I wait for her reaction staring directly at the foggy glass.
“C’mon, Drew, we work together. I can’t not be near him.”
“You work together. That’s it.”
“Yeah, I could say the same for Raine.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means the exact same thing, Drew.”
I don’t like where she’s going with this, and to claim what belongs to me, I spread her legs, tilting my head as I cup her ass in my hand.
“Drew,” she begs, with a slight warning. “Please, I really want us to make our wedding night special.”
I don’t listen to her. At least, I make her think I’m not listening. My fingers move across grazing her perfect asshole and sliding down to feel her slick pussy waiting for me—again. She begs me once more not to continue, but her body betrays her mind. I tease her slowly, and just when her begging stops, I pull back, her breathin
g uneven as she stares at my reflection in the mirror.
“Have it your way. I won’t touch you,” I tell her. “Just remember, you’re sending me on my bachelor party, and I’m pretty certain it’ll involve naked women.”