My Fake Husband by Black, L. (lightest ebook reader .TXT) 📗

an inch so I could try again, or to pull it down with force, but neither worked. It was in the middle of my back, hard to reach, and way too high for me to be able to wriggle out of the dress as it was. I needed it unzipped all the way. In desperation, I grabbed a wire hanger from the closet and tried to hook it through the zipper before realizing that was impossible. I tried to shrug the cap sleeves off my shoulders so I could turn the dress around to see what I was doing, but I only succeeded in trapping my arms in unforgiving satin.

Son of a bitch. I was stuck in my wedding dress. I sighed and marched out into the hall, stopping to knock on Damon’s door.

“Um, it’s me. Sorry to bother you. I need a little help here,” I said tightly.

He swung open the door wearing nothing but a pair of basketball shorts. I swallowed and reminded myself not to drool and that under no circumstances would I allow myself to masturbate about him or this moment ever.

“My, um, zipper got stuck. Could you help?”

“I’ll do my best. I’m used to saving kittens from trees, but I can probably manage a zipper,” he said good-naturedly. I turned around.

He swept my dark hair over one shoulder so it was out of his way, and I tried not to bite my lip from the light caress. Damon trailed one finger down my spine to the spot where the zipper was stuck.

“I see the problem. It’s caught on the material. Just let me give it a little tug.”

“Be gentle. I mean, don’t rip the fabric if you can help it,” I stammered, my voice too high.

“Don’t worry, Trix, I’m always gentle. Unless you don’t want me to be,” his low voice was smoky and suggestive and made my knees go weak.

He gripped the narrow zipper pull in two fingers and tugged first down and then up. Then he touched the place where the fabric parted above it and I felt the small, deft movements of his fingers as he loosened the fabric from the zipper teeth and it slid smoothly down, the backs of his fingers brushing my sensitive skin. I had to stay still, not showing him how his touch affected me.

I held the front of the dress up and turned and thanked him, then shuffled back to my room in a hurry.

10 Damon

Goddamn the inventor of the zipper. Things were going fine until she asked me to help her take off her dress. The dress she picked out because it was my favorite color. The way that deep plum-colored satin clung to her curves, molded to her body like it was made for her was almost too much for me. Then I had to unfasten it. I would’ve thought it was a trick, a clumsy attempt at seduction, but the zipper was actually stuck from eating away at the material beside it, and also I didn’t think Trixie was the kind to try and seduce a man. Not even her legal husband.

It took every bit of my self-control to keep from ripping the dress off her. Even that kiss at the wedding had affected me, left me shaken by how much I felt it and how much it meant. When she turned around, holding her dress up to cover herself, Trixie had thanked me. I could tell she was breathing hard, and my fingers brushed her shoulder as she turned around. She practically bolted off down the hall.

Leaving me rock hard and ready. Since I’d heard her door slam, I figured she wasn’t coming back out. I went into the bathroom and jumped in the shower. Before the water could even hit me, I had my hand wrapped around my shaft, wishing it was her instead.

Our wedding night was what I thought of. How different it could have been if I’d had my way.

I unzip the dress, push the sleeves off her shoulders, let the fabric pool around her bare feet, leaving her in nothing but lacy panties and a light blue garter—her something blue riding high on her pale thigh. I stand behind her, slide my hands up her stomach and cup her bare breasts, toy with her sensitive nipples until they make sharp peaks between my fingers. I kiss her shoulder and the curve of her neck, the spot below her ear that I’d touched with my fingertips in the bar and made her shiver.

“Oh Damon!” she says, breathing hard. “Oh, yes.”

I like hearing her say my name, hearing her say yes. I decide I want to make her do more of that. I mouth her neck and fondle her nipples. My hands trail down her arms, raising goosebumps in my wake. I take her hands and kiss them. Then I turn her around and kiss her mouth. It’s a full, deep kiss, one that leaves us both shaken from the intensity. I stroke her hair, palm her head and lick the roof of her mouth, coaxing her tongue to war with mine, to taste and to want. I run my hands down her back, around her little waist and flaring over her full hips. I slide my hands inside her lacy panties to cup her generous ass and pull her against me so she can feel my arousal.

Trixie tips her face up to meet my eyes. Her pupils are dilated, her eyes feverish with desire. She nips at my bottom lip and my hard-on grows painful, straining against my shorts. I jerk them down and go to my knees. I bite the lace on her garter and drag it down her bare leg. Then I hook my fingers in the tiny ribbon sides of her panties and rip them off. She gasps, winds her arms around my neck, panting with excitement as I bear her onto the bed.

I suck one nipple and then the other before I flip