Page 84 of Let It Be Me
“Better every time.”
She kisses me on my sweat-dampened temple and gingerly climbs off. My limp cock falls against my thigh, but I pay it no mind as I watch her peach shaped ass walk towards the bathroom so she can clean herself up.
“Damn, Blue.” I groan when she walks down the stairs.
When she picked out her dress, she made it seem like she was the one getting married and refused to let me see her dress. And now for good reason. The dark teal silk halter dress cascades down her body leaving her back completely exposed, but the front of the dress completely covers her. It’s an absolutely stunning color on her that she paired with subtle gold jewelry. While I thought she would wear her hair down, she pulled it back to a high ponytail, with the ends softly curled. She’s an absolute vision.
“You don’t look half bad yourself, handsome.” She ogles me without shame and she’s about to cause another problem that we definitely don’t have time to fix.
With a spritz of her perfume that I’ve stocked her up on, we’re finally heading out the door. We have a car waiting for us to take us to the stadium and it’s good because I can ogle Sarah without having to pay attention to the road. I play with the rings and bracelets that adorn her hands, not so secretly trying to memorize the size of the one on her important finger.
The car pulls up to a stop outside of the entrance twenty minutes later. The driver opens my door and I hold my hand out for Sarah. Other guests are filing in and I realize I’m going to be surrounded by current and former football players. That thought makes me shiver and it catches Sarah’s attention.
“Nervous?” She jokingly asks.
“About being around all of these football players? Absolutely.”
“They’re just boys who play with balls,” she says in an attempt to calm me down.
That gets a laugh out of me and I finally relax. We walk down the tunnel to the field where the ceremony is taking place. My eyes widen when I take in the space. I knew Kamryn and Mason knew a lot of people, but this blows my mind.
There looks to be about two hundred brown oak chairs setup, starting at the end zone. Leading the way up the aisle is white roses with the green petals still attached, with what looks like battery-powered candles on both sides, creating a romantic path. The altar is on a raised dais with an archway in the middle draped with gauzy light pink drapery and more of the white roses framing the arch.
“Wow,” I finally breathe out.
Sarah’s hand squeezes my hand. “Yeah. And to think they sized the wedding down.”
I shake my head because this is a lot and will probably be the biggest wedding I’ll have ever attended.
“Come on. They planned for the guests to meet upstairs for cocktail hour.”
I’m still befuddled as we make our way back through the tunnel and towards the elevator bank.
“It’s a lot, I know.”
I usher Sarah into the elevator and she presses the button to take us up. “Is this the type of wedding you would want?”
“Are you asking me what I think you’re asking?”
I hold my hands out and pull her to me, still careful notto wrinkle her dress or mess up her hair and makeup. “No. Besides, you’ll know when I ask you.”
The blush that peaks through her makeup and brings forth a timid smile turns me all gooey inside.
“To answer your question, no. I would rather have a courthouse wedding, still with the white dress and two witnesses. Then a big party.”
“Noted,” I say, taking in every little thing about her facial features.
We stay like this as the elevator continues its ascent. Blue eyes to blue eyes. Heart to heart. I’ve filed everything she would want for a wedding in my mind. And what she described is exactly what I one day pictured. It sounds weird when a guy says they imagined their wedding. But growing up around so much love ensured that I would have what they have. And it is a heady feeling knowing that the person you’re with wants that too.
The elevator stops and pings before whooshing open. Noise from those already in the room filter down the hallway and we step off just before the doors close to go back down. The clack of Sarah’s shoes and her fingers entwined in mine, really makes me feel like I’m headed to prom.
Animated chatter and laughter, high and low, greet us when we step across the threshold.
“Geez,” I voice aloud.
“You can officially cross ‘attend a fashion designers’ wedding off your bucket list,” Sarah exaggerates and waves her hand in front of her.
We’re greeted by Dylan, Sarah’s friend Emily’s boyfriend's son. “Hi, Ms. Sarah. You look really pretty.”
