tagRomanceYou Never Know Ch. 02

You Never Know Ch. 02


Thank you for all the comments on the first chapter. I've decided to keep the initials, despite requests for real names, since making up false names would take something away from the story for me.

All characters in this story are over the age of 18.


I walked into the church that Saturday morning, tugging at my dark violet silk dress and repeatedly tucking my bangs behind my ear. My heart banged almost painfully against my chest and I was shivering. Deep breaths did nothing to assuage my anxiety. I saw a couple of people from the jazz gig, but didn't know anyone well enough to just walk up and start chatting. I awkwardly stood alone until a well-dressed man I recognized as S.'s brother and best man came up to me. He looked like a slimmer, more polished version of S. "Um, S. wants to talk to you for a minute in the back room," he told me, jutting his thumb towards the rear of the church.

"Oh, uh, okay," I said, surprised. What could he have to say? The back room was really more of a coatroom, and I supposed the bride had dibs on the best place to get ready. S. didn't need a lot of preparation, anyway, I reasoned. All he had to do was run a comb through his hair, throw on a tux, and he was perfect. I poked my head into the room. It was dark, not made for everyday conversations between friends. "S.?" Suddenly I felt a hand on my wrist, the door closed, blocking out most of the light, and S.'s soft lips were buried in the crook of my neck. My legs melted away at his touch but I fought for my brain to master my body. "S., S., what are you doing? Stop!"

He paused and what little light was left in the closet glinted off the whites of his eyes. "Do you really want me to stop?" he asked me in a low, growling voice I had never heard before. "Don't lie."

"No, I don't," I admitted, trembling, "but this is your wedding. You're getting married in a few minutes."

"Weddings are always late," he muttered, like that was the point I was trying to make. "The ceremony's going to be delayed anyway; I think there was some problem with the dress." I couldn't see well enough to predict his movements and he grabbed me close and flicked his tongue against my lips, encouraging me to open my mouth. The darkness, the heady smell of S.'s cologne, my heightened anxiety -- all of it contributed to my concession to S.'s ministrations. I could not help myself. My mind protested how morally corrupt this was, but it felt too good, too satisfying, to stop. I let my body relax into him and opened my mouth against his. He wasted no time in slipping his tongue inside and I moaned quietly in the back of my throat. He tasted like cinnamon and ginger.

He still had a hold on my wrist and he tugged my hand down to the zipper of his slacks. "Feel how hard I am for you," he hissed in my ear, making my knees buckle. "I can't stay away from you. I need you. Ever since you kissed me in the car..." Every word out of his mouth was like a spell, intoxicating me and binding me to him. I stroked him gently through the material and heard him exhale slowly. He planted liquid kisses along my collarbone, always returning to my mouth to wrap his tongue around mine. He backed me against the only wall with no coats hung on it and pinned my hands above my head. "I can't resist you," he breathed. He urgently pressed his hips against mine and I gasped. S. reached into my dress and scooped out my breast, lavishing it with licks while still refusing to let me touch him.

"S.," I panted in the dim light. "I need you." He smirked.

"That's what I was waiting for," he whispered, releasing my wrists. I tore off half the buttons on his shirt and nuzzled his bare, built chest as he unbuckled his pants and let them drop to his ankles. I glanced down to see his proud cock for the first time and groaned softly. I started to fall to my knees to ravish him, but he held me up and shook his head. "No time for that," he said. "I want to be inside you." His eyes flashed suddenly and I heard him curse. "Fuck, I don't have a condom on me." I swallowed hard and made a quick decision.

"It doesn't matter," I hissed. "Just fuck me." I wasn't on birth control but I'd worry about that later. I'd have a lot of things to worry about later. S. grinned at my reply and lifted me against the wall. I tore the flimsy fabric of my underwear aside. His fingers slipped up inside me, stretching me and making sure I was ready for him. I was dripping. He lifted his hand to his mouth and suckled, then offered his fingers to me. I tasted myself eagerly while S. hiked my dress up around my hips. He aligned himself with my entrance and we moaned in unison as he pushed inside me for the first time. The blunt head split me like a piece of overripe fruit.

An ache sprang up deep within me but it was almost instantly relieved as S. slowly lowered me onto him until I could feel our pubic bones rubbing together. I released a breath I hadn't even realized I was holding. If his body was hot and hard, his cock was twelve times that. His hands cupped under my ass, supporting me, he guided me into a quick rhythm that had me dying to scream his name. I settled for digging my nails into his back and biting his shoulder as gently as I could to muffle whatever noise I made. He wasn't so much thrusting as rubbing, almost how it would feel if we were in bed and I was on top, grinding my hips into him. It was incredible. I started to whimper as the friction between us increased, but S. shoved his tongue in my mouth to quiet me.

"God," he whispered, pulling back, "this feels so good but -- oh -- we're making too much noise. I told my brother what we were doing, so he should -- ah -- buy us some time..." The mm in 'time' stretched out into a very quiet moan as we sank to the floor together. I discarded the fact that S.'s brother knew what we were going to do from the moment he saw me in the church -- and I discarded the fact that I was having sex in a church -- and lay back onto a fallen coat, S. still buried deep inside me.

There wasn't a lot of room to spread out in, but we made the best of the situation. I bent my knees and S. knelt between them, somehow never letting himself fall out of me. I was never left empty. S. started to pound into me with renewed vigor and my head rhythmically hit the baseboard, but I was beyond caring. "This is the best sex I've had in years," he panted. "God, you're -- oh -- fucking amazing. You feel so tight." I felt a guilty triumph flare within me. I was better than his fiancée. S. bent his head to my chest and licked roughly at my nipples through my dress. I had to struggle not to cry out, especially when he grazed his teeth over them. The roughness with which he handled me made the passion rise within me, and I felt myself peaking. S. must have sensed it somehow. He slipped a hand between our coupling bodies and rubbed steadily at my clit. I arched my back and came hard, holding my breath in order not to scream out.

I pulled S.'s head down to me and had another orgasm as I pushed my tongue past his lips, desperately licking at the inside of his mouth. The kiss must have set him off. He thrust into me hard and throbbed as he climaxed. I felt his hot come pool against my cervix and relished the erotic sensation. I had never had sex without a condom before. Our limbs slowly untangled and our sweat-soaked bodies lay supine on the coatroom floor. "S.," I said softly, "that was unbelievable." I cupped a hand over myself and caught some of his come as it trickled out of me. I lifted my fingers to my mouth and tasted him. It was bitter, but there was a dark, almost familiar sweetness behind it that I couldn't quite identify. He leaned over and kissed me, tasting himself on my lips, and gently stroked my slit so I had some residual aftershocks.

"I love you," he said hoarsely. The words were like music to my ears, but as I came down from the high we had just experienced, I felt a wrenching horror at what we had done. S. and I had fucked. In the coat closet. At his wedding. I sighed deeply and looked over at the faint outline of his face.

"How are we going to explain your shirt?"

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