Page 85 of How to Kidnap a Fake Date
I barely recognise the woman in the mirror. All puffy lips and messy-haired, cum staining my face.
It’s just what I’ve always imagined Roman would leave me looking like.
Less the mind-blowing orgasm.
28
ROMAN
By the time evening arrives, Maggie and I are both chomping at the bit.
What’s an acceptable time to duck out of your pretend girlfriend’s father’s wedding?
Probably not eight o’clock.
Candlelight pools on crisp tablecloths, dancing over the elaborate floral centrepieces. Half of the many tables have been pushed to the edge of the room to open up a space to dance, and I watch as kilted men spin women under their arms in a wild array of movement.
The room smells incredible despite the rather sweaty dance floor full of ceilidhing guests. Probably from the eye-watering amount of flowers that decorate the room. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many slain plants in one place.
The Hamilton wealth and success are on full display.
Guests drift through the available rooms in pretty silk dresses and tailored evening wear, clinking glasses and sharing conversation. Beauty fills every inch of the place, from decor and fashion to perfectly styled people and the warm backdrop of the Hamilton home.
You’d never guess it was all built with a river of blood flowing below the surface.
Maggie sits beside me, fidgeting with barely concealed need. I run my fingers down her spine until I feel her shiver.
Keeping her right where I want her.
I hadn’t expected her to get on her knees earlier, and I certainly hadn’t expected to let myself go quite so far with her. She’d dragged out a feral side I liked to keep hidden, and instead of running, she’d goaded me further.
Just another way that my kidnapper has blown my mind.
Is there no end to her surprises?
Despite our growing closeness, a dark cloud has shadowed us all day.
Eddie.
Flashing his pearly white grin at me whenever I look his way. Chumming up with Evan and making it evident how comfortable he is in Maggie’s world.
When the fiddles calm, a crooner takes to the makeshift stage and calls Evan and Priscilla up to the floor.
Priscilla looks at Evan like he’s a god. They seem happy. I still cringe at thedeath do us partsection of the ceremony. Not quite so difficult to circumvent in these circles.
Evan’s posture has stiffened as the day wore on, but his hand on Priscilla’s waist is steady and protective. She rests her head briefly against his shoulder as they sway to the music.
The bridesmaids are called to the floor to dance with the ushers. I stay in my seat and watch Maggie. She dances with her brother near the edge of the floor, and I stifle a laugh. Dancing may not be her forte when it’s not slow. Not that Maggie seems to mind. She throws shapes like no one is watching, much to Fraser’s embarrassment.
From what I’ve seen, there’s a joy to be found in winding up your siblings.
I can’t drag my eyes away from her.
Her dress gleams in the stage light, framing her full figure and making her look like an angel. An angel just begging to be desecrated.
So far, I’d avoided going all the way with Maggie, trying to tell myself that it would be best not to go there with her. To protect us both.
Or because it’s a final wall still between you.
