Page 21 of The Spare

Something on my face must spur him on, for he reaches out and hooks me around the waist, quick as a flash, tugging me against him. I hold my poor bouquet out to one side to avoid it suffering death by man chest, and then he’s sliding his other hand around my neck to angle my jaw upwards. I stare at him for a moment, marvelling at the expression on his face.

He looks famished.

Then he’s dipping his head and closing his mouth over mine.

Oh, Jesus Christ. I’m kissing him. Kissing him for the first time, in front of three hundred people. Kissing my husband.

It feels good being clamped against his hard body. It feels great. His lips are soft against mine, and he smells heavenly. I mean, seriously next level.

It’s my view that a kiss in a cathedral, in front of a bishop, should be, well, chaste, but it seems my groom has other ideas. His mouth moves over mine, and I get the tiniest brush of his tongue. Shit. On instinct, I pull back, but his grip tightens around me as his tongue slides along the seam of my lips. I’m torn—torn between propriety and performance and how indecently good it feels to have his tongue coaxing my⁠—

Oh, sod it. I suppose selling the realness of this match is our number one priority right now. May as well take one for the team.

I open for him, and his tongue slips right into my mouth. Holy fuck, can the man kiss. I suppose he’s had endless practice, but still. Before I realise it, I’m raising my free hand to grab at his very broad shoulder. He laughs against my mouth and bends me backwards as his tongue breaches my mouth more fully. To the crowd, it’s a classic Benedict move: a dramatic Hollywood kiss. To me, it’s full-on mouth sex. This is seriously inappropriate, but the clapping has turned to cheering and whooping and outright heckling. There are even a few wolf whistles. Our guests are loving us, and I am… not hating it.

Benedict’s tongue dances with mine. His kissing style is so improper, so hypersexual, and my lizard brain is seriously reacting to his moves.

Oh my God, I will not survive this marriage to this man.

Finally, he tugs me upwards and releases me. My head is actually spinning, but I’m sure it was the angle and not his kissing. I gaze up at my new husband. His lips are slightly swollen, and he’s grinning at me as if he’s the cat that got the cream. Christ, this man is sex on legs.

He winks at me. ‘I’m just getting started, wifey.’

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

CHAPTER 10

Benedict

So, this is all a hoot. It’s impossible not to be swept up by the reactions of our guests, by the sheer lark of pulling a stunt like that and causing such total fucking chaos. I can safely say that this is the most entertaining wedding I’ve ever attended, even if I was absolutely bricking it before Slinks arrived.

I played to the crowd with that kiss just now, of course I did, but it was no hardship. No hardship at all. If I have to tie myself down for life, I couldn’t ask for a hotter bride. I mean, holy fuck. She looks like a bloody supermodel today.

As she walked down the aisle—up the aisle?—I had a total out-of-body experience. Like I said, Burning Man on steroids. I stood there like a total muppet and fixated on this gorgeous goddess coming towards me. She was flawless. Just flawless. But as soon as she got to the top, it was clear she was nervous as hell. She looked white as a sheet. So it had me forgetting about my own unease. I like to think I’m the guy who steps in and lightens the mood when things get too heavy, and I was damned if this wasn’t the perfect opportunity. After all, the poor little duck has been through the emotional wringer this week, and then some.

I’m a big fan of faking it till you make it, and I could tell that, once Slinky relaxed a bit, she was taking that approach as much as I was: focus on performing for the crowd, and take it from there. I mean, what else can you do when you’re standing there, pledging your future to someone you never planned to marry?

There was one moment during ‘Jerusalem’ when my uncle Mark, who was sitting a couple of rows back from the front, went completely—and very loudly—off-key, and Slinky caught my eye. I thought we were going to get a fit of the giggles. And, by the time we got to the vows, she looked marginally less like a deer caught in the headlights, even if her hands were still shaking.

Now I look down at her post-kiss and experience a distinct mixture of satisfaction and good, old-fashioned lust. I’ve always enjoyed getting a rise out of Slinks. She tries so hard to keep that ice-queen façade up, bless her, that it’s always fun to poke her. See if I can get a reaction.

I’d say my kiss got a reaction and then some.

Let’s face it: the rest of the ceremony has been performative. Well-meaning, but performative. But pulling her to me and kissing her? Yes, I was playing to the crowd, but there was nothing performative about it. I’ve been dying to plant a kiss on Slinky for years and years. I’ve long had a theory that, in my hands and under my mouth, she’d melt.

And she did.

I clocked the moment she tried to end it, doubled down, and just as easily clocked the moment she decided to abandon her innate propriety in favour of a truly excellent kiss. Her lips were supple under mine, her mouth warm, and her grip on my shoulder as she held on for dear life almost indecently sweet.

I meant what I told her.

I’m just getting started.

The amusing part of it is, I genuinely think she has no clue how hot it can and will be between us. Showing her will be the most fun I’ve had in years.

Now, she links her arm through mine as we prepare to walk down the aisle as man and wife, and my sister steps forward to adjust her dress and veil behind her. Slinks looks fan-fucking-tastic. She’s always had great tits. I may not have seen them properly yet, but she’s hung out at Belvedere’s pool enough times that I’ve been able to admire the goods. I’ve definitely had to discreetly adjust myself on occasion as she lounged poolside, sleek and gorgeous in the skimpiest of bikinis.

Today, her tits look world class, thanks to the corset-type situation she has going on. The dress flares out into a full skirt, the entire thing covered in ivory lace and lots of tiny crystals and… pearls? I don’t know exactly, but it’s intricate and stunningly beautiful. She looks like a fairytale princess.