Page 167 of Bridesmaid By Chance
I perk up and pray that even if I haven’t heard it, I can at least be convincing enough to fake it.
“And I’ll know if you’re lying.”
She sets the phone between us and stares me down while the soothing sound of eighties smooth jazz filters into the room, instrumentals I cannot recognize for the life of me playing, making me panic. And then after a few seconds of intro, Kenny G comes in with his saxophone, a familiar tune that I’ve definitely heard before.
“Hey, I know this song.”
“Do you really?” she asks skeptically.
“Yeah, I do.” And then, to prove it to her, I hum along with the song, what little I do know, and I watch a smile creep over her lips before she tackles me on the bed and moves over the length of my body.
“Oh my God, I’ve never found you hotter than right now.”
I laugh as I stare up at her.
“Fuck me. Fuck me hard, Hudson.”
She doesn’t have to ask me twice…
Our heads hang off the end of the bed, sheets rumpled around us, Kenny G still playing in the background.
I can barely catch my breath as Sloane pretends to smoke an imaginary cigarette.
Jesus.
Christ.
I…I can’t feel my goddamn legs.
I don’t even think I know where I am at the moment as the light starts to return to my eyes.
“That was the best sex of my life,” Sloane says, breathless.
How she’s even able to talk right now is beyond me—the girl put in the work.
“We will always have sex with Kenny G now.”
When she puts it like that…
“No, Sloane.” I turn to her, placing my hand on her stomach. “That was, fuck, that was amazing, but I’m not about to be triggered to arousal every time I hear Kenny G. Not fucking happening. It’s bad enough that when I hear a saxophone, I’m going to think of your cunt coming all over my cock.”
She smiles and cups my cheek. “Awww, are you really?”
“Yes.”
“Then my work here is done.” She hops out of bed as if I didn’t just rail her a few seconds ago and moves into the bathroom where she cleans up.
I shift out of bed and check my phone, but there’s nothing from Hardy, so I move toward the bathroom just as Sloane starts exiting.
“Oooh, hello there.” She kisses my chest. “I’m starving. Can I order some room service?”
“Order whatever you want.”
“Thank you, Husband.”
To my displeasure, she slips on her robe and moves into the living room, where I hear her ordering soft pretzels. I clean up in thebathroom, splash some water on my face, then slip on a pair of boxer briefs before heading into the living room where Sloane is hanging up the phone.
“I ordered a few things. Hope that’s okay.”
