Page 1 of Beautiful Small Things

Prologue

Marcus - Age 27

This night has been pure torture. We’ve been close to one another for hours but haven’t had a chance to be alone. Finally, everyone watches the bride and groom as they make their way onto the dance floor.

I catch her eye from across the room as she smiles seductively before heading out of the ballroom towards the restroom. I throw the remainder of my drink back and follow casually.

I kick the bathroom door shut behind me, lifting her as she wraps her legs around me. Outside, the melody of the song playing for the first dance vibrates through the walls.

I slide my hands up the side of her hips to lift her satin dress, allowing me the access I need.

I’ve wanted this for so long. She has, too, even though she won’t admit it now. But the timing was never right.

The timing still isn’t right, you moron, the voice in my head shouts. I ignore it like I usually do in situations where it will stop me from getting what I want.

Our mouths are still tangled in the hottest kiss of my life as I walked her to the counter and set her down without breaking our fierce wrestling of tongues. I hear the rip of fabric and feel it give way in my fingers, but it does nothing to slow us down. I’ve finally broken her resolve. This little power play she’s been running is over. And I’m coming out on top. Or bottom. Doesn’t matter.

She tugs at the hair at the nape of my neck as she meets every thrust of my tongue with her own. The taste of her mouth excites me in a way I never expected. This has been a long time coming, and I intend to savor every second. Tiny moans emanate from her throat and travel straight to my dick. My mind is cloudy with lust.

I shouldn’t be doing this.

She reaches for my belt and works the buckle with small, nimble fingers. Before I know it, her hand is down my pants, rubbing me up and down over my boxer briefs and smiling against my lips. Then her hand slips inside.

Her eyes widen in surprise as she feels the cold metal of my frenum piercing. That’s something she doesn’t know about me. I like that after all these years, I can still surprise her. Now it’s my turn to smile against her lips. I smirk as she bites her lip and rubs across the silver bar with her thumb. I got it on a dare. It hurt like Hell, putting me out of commission for three weeks, but I’ve never regretted it, especially now.

I can hardly contain myself as she continues working her hand from shaft to head, stopping to swirl around the piercing with her thumb, wetting it with precum. She slowly retrieves her hand, licks her thumb, and then the palm of her hand, before slipping it back into my pants, continuing to give me the best hand job I’ve ever had.

My mind goes blank as I give in to the feeling. I’m not sure if we locked the door in our haste. Someone could walk in. That only makes it that much hotter.

Sliding my hand between her legs, I realize she’s not wearing panties under her green dress. Jesus.

“You feel incredible,” I groan, dropping my head and biting the tender space between her neck and shoulder. Urgently, I slide two fingers into her slick center.

“Don’t talk,” she says, removing me from my tuxedo pants.

This is so wrong.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” I say in a moment of clarity.

She leans back, spreads her legs further, and meets my eyes, daring me with her words:

“Then stop.”

I stare into her eyes and pump my fingers slowly as she strokes me, breaking down the walls of my resolve.

Callan is going to kill me. That’s not hyperbole. My best friend just married her older sister and has been her older brother for years. Callan will literally kill me and bury my body in some remote location. They will never find it, and he will return once per year to piss on the ground covering my decaying remains.

Yet, that thought is not enough to stop me from lining up with her center and plunging into her without warning, making us moan in pleasure. I didn’t even put on a condom, and now I don’t care. My need for her has rendered all sense of responsibility void.

I don’t hold back as I take her, pounding roughly, and she rolls her hips meeting me thrust for thrust. I should go slowly. I want to go slowly. But this thing between us has been growing for years. We’ve been dancing around our attraction since she finally got old enough to be viewed as the gorgeous woman before me. Now that it’s ignited, it burns hotter than I ever imagined.

Leaning back, she sets her stiletto-clad feet on the edge of the counter, giving her leverage to move against me with increased friction.

I sense her getting closer. I’m nothing if not an attuned lover, so I maintain my pace and depth while she chases her orgasm.

Her legs shake, and she throws her head back as she finds her release with sexy, throaty moans.

I continue slow, languid strokes throughout her orgasm, loving how her walls constrict around me.