Tales of Blake and Sasha VII

Oh my gosh, thank you all for following this couple. These two are a hoot, but a sexy hoot, and I had lots of fun writing their story. This is the last installment in their mini-series/quickie. You may catch glimpses of these two in an upcoming story. Oh, and some of my characters from a previous story make an appearance in this one. Let's see who read/remembers the story. ;-) Enjoy!

The Wedding

"Are you sure you want to go through with this, mate? I mean, your lady's gorgeous—probably one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen—."

A cleared throat had Richard pausing and lifting a brow at the blond man who was slowly shaking his head. "I said one of the most of beautiful women, James. As you very well as I feel inclined to consistently remind you, Branna still tops that list—especially when she's pregnant. I've never believed it before, but that motherly glow is extremely attractive." He chuckled when his cousin gave him an evil stare and lifted his brandy filled glass in salute.

"Just do as I do, Blake. Ignore him. I find it quite satisfying." James' response was light, and he purposely looked from where Richard sat, sprawled after a few glasses too many, to Blake.

"You two really haven't changed," Blake murmured with an easy laugh, looking between the cousins. Of course they'd changed. These two were now successful business men in their own rights but seated as they were, in a dimly lit corner of Richard's Boston penthouse as the bachelor party revved around them, Blake was propelled back to times in Europe where he and the Bradford cousins would get into their fair share of trouble. Well, Richard would always get them into their fair share of trouble. He chuckled at that, remembering that the only reason he'd met Richard Bradford at Eton was because the boy had been in trouble. His quick mouth had gotten him a sound beating from some of the older boys, and Blake had helped him out. By "helped," he had managed to distract the boys enough so that he and Richard could run away. He'd met James years after, when Richard introduced them at Cambridge. For the next years, the three had been inseparable. He'd even been present when the scandal that got James in trouble happened. After their graduation, they'd kept in touch by email and phone, but they'd hardly seen each other after. Now staring at the two of them, except for slight changes to their appearances, they looked the same.

"God, he sounds like a bloody American, doesn't he James?" Richard's British-accented voice sounded so pained that Blake laughed. The sound caught the attention of a few of the guys, possibly friends, cousins, or just well-wishers, and they yelled out congratulations.

Blake lifted his glass, and smiled remembering his gorgeous fiancée and wondering if she was enjoying herself at her bridal shower.

"Thank you. Thank you." That was from Richard, who was lifting his glass too. James grinned and shook his head. Blake raised a brow and chuckled.

"Practicing for the future, Richard?"

He sobered immediately, his eyes growing serious as he turned to survey James.

"No, thank you very much. I enjoy my life—single as it is." A smile split his lips and blue eyes twinkled. "I'm already living vicariously through James and now I can live through you as well, especially as I'm going to be calling this place home for the next few months at least." As the recent owner of the aptly named Trend nightclubs in London, Richard was intent on expanding his dynasty to international arenas, and that included American cities. Blake looked to James, who was looking at Richard with a raised brow. At the moment, James didn't look like the CEO that normally graced one or two of the pages of Forbes magazine yearly. He was seated casually in the chair with his blond hair rumpled and eyes slightly bloodshot. "So, there's no need for me to follow in your footsteps anytime soon, my friend." Richard lifted his almost empty glass, and swiveled his head to Blake. His eyes were glassy, his smile wobbly. "So, to your everlasting happiness. May you tell me about it weekly—no monthly, weekly may get nauseating—so that I too may be happy." He laughed and drained his glass.

Blake drank. This was his third glass. "Thank you, Richard. I'm sure your best-man's speech is going to be one for the records."

James chuckled and shook his head, and Blake joined in. Richard stared at the two of them before he too fell into a fit of laughter. He pushed himself to his feet, dark head swiveling as he searched out the waiters for the night. "More brandy! Some bourbon too." He sat with a thump and leaned his head back against the chair. "You," he jabbed his finger in Blake's direction, before continuing, "You're nowhere near as drunk as you need to be. It's your last night as a free man, and it's my job as your best man—and James' job too—to make sure that you can't stand by the end of this. If you hadn't cancelled out the possibility of strippers, it would be our job to show you all that you would be missing during your long and prosperous marriage."

James shook his head and gave Richard a disbelieving smile before turning to Blake. "You're not missing anything. Trust me, the one who's been happily married for five years now."

Richard turned to James, shook his head, and then returned his attention to Blake. "He just made my point without even knowing it." He chuckled and clapped Blake on the shoulder. "We need more drinks, much more drinks."

*************

"No strippers, right?" Sasha asked, looking pointedly at Holly and the rest of her college friends as she spoke. The music had just cut off, and someone was knocking on the door. Kelly, her cousin and maid-of-honor, had jumped up, given Holly a grin, and rushed to the door. The conspiratorial grin had led to Sasha asking the question about the strippers.

"Of course not," Holly replied with a sugary sweet tone, shaking her head and batting long, mascara-thick lashes.

Sasha glared at her, before looking around the room at the expectant faces of friends and family members who'd come from various states to be present for her July wedding. It was no surprise that Blake's sister was not present, because despite the recent civilities, the two were still not as close as future sister-in-laws should be. Sasha was sure that Kelly had invited her, albeit reluctantly. Her cousin rented a hotel suite for the bridal shower, stating that they needed more space than Blake's apartment. The suite was large, but it was not bigger than Blake's apartment. So, there had to be some other reason why Kelly had rented this place. She was just hoping that it wasn't the reason that she was thinking.

Fingers touched her arm, and Sasha looked down, noticing a pretty golden wedding band, before lifting her eyes to the owner of said hand. She smiled when she recognized Branna Bradford, James's wife. When she'd been introduced to James at the wedding rehearsal, her first thought was that her fiancée had gorgeous friends. And then she'd met Richard, and she'd stared at the three of them in utter perplexity, thinking it should be a sin for these three beautiful men to be friends. Who could control a car if the three of them passed? Who could close a business deal? Who could do anything? Those thoughts had raced through her mind until a beautiful brown skinned woman, a few shades lighter than herself with a slightly extended belly, walked up, took her hand in greeting and whispered, "I know exactly how you feel. Shocking, isn't it?" She'd introduced herself as James's wife, and Sasha had been pleasantly surprised. Although she wasn't in the wedding party, her husband and his cousin were, Branna was happy to help out in whatever ways she could. Sasha was even contemplating kicking Blake's sister out of the wedding, and giving her dress to Branna. Evil wishful thinking but a girl could hope.

"You look like a deer in very bright headlights," Branna murmured with a grin. She patted her hand and Sasha tried to relax.

The lights dimmed, before going out completely. Sasha groaned, and Branna chuckled. Giggles erupted in full swing as flashes went off. Were those cameras? No, they were club lights. She blinked, trying to get her eyes to adjust to the harsh pale blue and white lights.

"Which one of you is getting married tomorrow?"

Sasha groaned. She was going to kill her cousin, and then she was going to kill Holly, followed by—.

"She is!" Holly practically screamed, jumping up and coming to stand behind Branna. The rest of her college friends stood and fingers were being pointed in her direction.

Sasha shook her head. "Wait—." She broke off immediately when a man dressed as a police officer suddenly stepped into the light. He had dark hair, and a dark, almost Italian or Hispanic, look about him. The women in the room screamed and began calling very lewd things out. He was followed by a firefighter, who looked like the only fires he put out were the ones on or in women. With a smooth and even mocha complexion and a bald head, the man was good-looking. He elicited even more screams, and Sasha was already certain that some of her friends were going to be dropping much more than money tonight. But it wasn't over. Another man stepped into the light. Dark hair, tanned complexion, dressed in a suit. The man looked like a professional—and not a stripper either. Like her, her bridal shower stared at each other, wondering if he was one of the strippers or someone's date.

"You're getting married?" The suit asked, pointing at her with a long finger. The women screamed and gave him the affirmation.

"This is for you." The music came on, loud and pumping, and then he began to dance.

*************

Sasha tossed the tequila shot back, gritted her teeth, and made her way to the door. It was just after one in the morning and most of the women were busy with the strippers. After Mr. Suit had gotten through his dance, the other two had joined in and it wasn't long until they were all cloaked in nothing but those male thongs. She and Branna had sat in the corner laughing at the antics of the females—mostly her friends and Kelly—who were trying everything in their powers to get a peak at what was hidden in those thongs. They were so occupied with the strippers that no one stopped her when she stood and made her way over to the door. She'd told Branna that she was going to the bathroom, although she wasn't sure the woman believed her. Chuckling, Sasha clutched her purse closer to her body and stepped from the suite.

*************

Blake was in no way surprised when at half past midnight, two long limbed, and extremely flexible "exotic dancers" as Richard corrected, arrived. He'd just received a text message from his fiancée that made him smile, and was in the process of sending a reply, when the men began calling out bawdy things that made him lift his head. Two girls—one black, one white—smiled at him, and began to strip. He glared at Richard, but his friend had shrugged his shoulders and said, "I've got your best interests at heart, mate. Best interests."

Fifteen minutes later, Blake was making his way from Richard's penthouse apartment. The girls were working the room, and Richard was somewhere in said room. He'd told James that he was tired, and his friend had shaken his head and given him a small smile, before nodding and telling him to "have fun." Blake decided not to comment on the last part.

As soon as he was outside of the apartment building, he hailed a cab, and rattled off the directions to his apartment.

*************

When he walked into his apartment, candles were lit, and a slow song was playing. Moving over to the couch in the living room, he took a seat and closed his eyes. All according to the instructions that he'd received. It wasn't long before he heard the sound of heels, clicking over the hardwood floor. Silk touched his eyelids and he felt hands at the back of his head, securing the blindfold.

"A blindfold?" he asked huskily.

Sasha's message had been simple. "One Last Rendezvous, lover? I'll be at your apartment waiting..."

"Yes. For now," she whispered in his ear. Blake chuckled and continued, "So why are we here? Isn't it bad luck for the—?" She pressed a finger to his lips, and then her weight settled atop of him. His hands touched skin when he clasped her waist, and he trailed it up. More skin. Reaching down, he caressed her thighs. Skin. He smiled.

"You're getting married tomorrow," she murmured, her breath fanning his lips. "This is your last night as a free man. Don't you want to spend it with your lover?" Her tongue licked his bottom lip, before she placed a quick kiss on his lips.

"I don't think my fiancée is going to like this," he murmured softly, his hands moving up her back. He touched a thin lacy material with hooks, which he figured was a bra.

"No?" she asked softly, pressing herself more fully against him. His erection pushed against his pants, and she ground down against it. He moaned, and she laughed softly. "But you will."

She removed herself from his body and he listened to the sound of her heels as she moved around the room. She stopped and then he heard the music. Her heels picked up again, and then she was grinding against him. His hands cupped her waist, but she pried them away, and whispered, "No touching."

The erotic dance continued until he was burning in all the right places. She stood, leaned forward, and placed his head between her cleavage. Slowly, she shook her body.

"Christ, where'd you learn that?" His voice was muffled by her breasts but she heard him.

"Do you like that, lover?" she murmured, and then she slowly lifted the blindfold. He'd been right. She was wearing lingerie underwear, and for all that she was wearing, she should have just been naked. He could make out her nipples through the sheer red material of the lingerie, and when she stood he could see the outline of her pubis.

"Yes, I like that...very much."

She turned, showing her smooth back, and round ass, and slowly began to dance. Mesmerized, he watched the two brown orbs shake in time with the music, his eyes following her hips as she swung them back, forward, to the sides, all around. And then she slipped him a saucy look, bent over and wiggled her ass like a pro. Where did she learn to dance like that? She certainly didn't dance like that when they went out. That would just be sinful, and he'd end up getting into a fight with any man who tried to touch her after a dance like that.

As if knowing his thoughts, Sasha turned, gave him a secret smile, and slowly slid to her knees. As he watched, she approached him, on hands and knees, and removed his loafers. Next went his socks, which she tossed carelessly aside. When she was through with that, she crawled up his body once more, planting herself on top of him, and gave him a long kiss. Her body shifted away, and she slid headfirst down his legs, allowing her ass to remain on top of his lap as her legs spread out by his head. The grinding began again, and she turned her head slightly, and said in a husky voice, "You can spank me if you like."

She hadn't needed to tell him that. His hands were already moving to her ass, captivated by the way they jiggled. In that moment, he didn't care how she learned this routine. Once she only did it for him, he was fine. He squeezed an ass cheek, and she moaned lightly. He caressed the smooth surface, and then he spanked her. Her moans turned to whimpers, and before long, she was moving to the beat of his hand, the song all but forgotten as he played her ass like an instrument. Satisfied with his work, he caressed her warm and now sensitive skin, and slowly cupped her through the thong. A needy moan escaped her lips before she scrambled off of him, and stood with her hand against her hips.

She approached him with a taunting smile on her face, sliding across his lap. Her fingers caught his chin and she whispered, "Are you sure you want to get married?" Her tongue traced his lips, and she shifted her ass.

"Positive," he murmured, leaning forward, and kissing her like he wanted to. She pushed him back against the couch.

"Even if you're going to miss all of this?" she continued, rocking her body in a motion that mimicked sex, and pressing her breasts against him. His hands cupped her ass, and he pulled her down, grinding her against his cock. He felt like he was going to shoot anytime soon, and she hadn't even touched him.

"I doubt that this is ever going to stop," he returned. His hands moved upward and undid the clip for her bra. She tried to scramble back once more, but his arm locked on her waist.

Brown eyes clashed with smoky blue grey and she tasked lightly, kissing along his jaw. "Patience."

"I'm an impatient man, Sasha, but you already knew that." He tugged the bra down, and attached his mouth to a pebble hard nipple. She cried out hoarsely, and her hands immediately went into his hair. As she stroked his scalp, he reached between their bodies and undid his pants. He freed himself from the containment of his boxers and pushed her thong aside. A finger dipped into her body, finding her sopping wet, and quivering for him.

As if sensing what he wanted to do, she lifted slightly, and he ran the bulbous head of his cock along her slit. Her knees began to tremble, and he placed himself at her entrance. Leaning down, she locked her lips over his, pushing her tongue into his mouth, as she sank down. The penetration made them both gasp, and her arms wrapped around his neck as she began to bounce herself on his cock.

Their breathing was harsh and mingled, and that coupled with the sound and smell of their sex, was an added aphrodisiac. They didn't last long. Blake came with a loud grunt, pouring himself into his lover, his fiancée, his future wife, and she burst apart right after.

"You sure you want to get married, lover?" Sasha asked breathlessly. "Is your wife going to love you like I do?" She squeezed his gradually hardening cock, still buried inside her. "Is she going to fuck you like I do?" She bounced slightly, and groaned as little shocks from her last orgasm came over her. Recovered, she continued, "Is she going to do all those really...wicked, really...dirty things that I do?" She lifted her hips and he slid out of her. Her fist closed around him, and he groaned. "Is she?" Pushing herself back, she slid to her knees, and took him into her mouth, tasting herself on him.

His hand clutched her head, and she lowered her head further, fighting the gag reflex as he pushed into her throat. Blake could barely breathe as she sucked, and sucked—until his breath exploded, along with his cock. He watched through lowered lids as she remained as she was, catching every drop, before she kissed the tip, and licked her lips.

A few inches from his lips, she smiled and asked, "Is your wife going to do that?"

He pulled her to him, crushing his lips against hers, and rolling her under his body. His hand caught her thong, and she felt a pinch and heard a rip. She looked to the ground, where her red thong had been dropped.

"Yes, she will, lover," he murmured against her lips, biting down softly. His fingers slid between her pussy lips and rubbed her button. "My wife and I are going to have an extremely healthy sex life."

*************

Their wedding was what she'd imagined and so much more. It was perfect.

After Sasha had awoken in Blake's bed, tangled in his limbs, she'd looked at the time, and had freaked out. She should have been back at the hotel hours ago. Her dress was there, the makeup lady was going there. She called a cab and from there, most things went without a hitch.