Page 90 of Four Weddings and a Funeral Director
‘You know I’m not a patient woman, right?’ asked Lily, squirming as his fingers wandered over her hips, then down to the warmth between her legs.
‘You know what they say about patience.’
‘It’s hyped up beyond belief?’
Lily’s hand found his, and she guided him to the warmth between her legs, her fingertips soft on his knuckles as she enticed his fingers to part her, to explore the slick heat of her, to attend to the hooded part of her that made her moan.
Over in the next tent, a couple giggled, and Lily clapped a hand over her mouth.
‘Oh my God,’ she whispered. ‘Am I that loud?’
‘I’m pretty sure someone now has very solid proof that Bigfoot exists, and he has a very distinctive mating call.’
Lily smacked him on the arm. ‘Stop being funny during sex. I find it very alluring, and I don’t want to give the Bigfoot people more fodder.’
‘It’s the flat-earthers I’m worried about,’ said Mort. ‘What if I push you over the edge?’
‘Challenge accepted,’ said Lily, eyes sparkling. ‘Two edges, though.’
Mort bit his lip. Oh, but she was witty. And gorgeous. And wonderful in every way. He desperately wanted her. In fact, he had forso long. But he couldn’t deny himself anymore. Couldn’t deny that every moment he was close to her was a moment he’d replay for the rest of his life.
Mort hesitated. First, the administrative stuff. Then the fun.
‘Do you have … um.’ He pantomimed a condom.
‘A balloon animal?’ Lily grinned wickedly. Increasingly wickedly as Mort grew increasingly red. ‘Mort, you know I never disappoint. I am an incomparable planner.’ In an exceptionally mermaid-like move – and an impressive demonstration of abdominal strength – she stretched to the right, returning with a lidded basket that she plunked in her bare lap.
‘Debauchery basket,’ she explained, opening it to reveal an assortment of goodies more fit for Burning Man than a wedding: airport bottles of alcohol, nitrous balloons, protein bars, questionable-looking organic matter – and of course several packets of condoms. ‘May I do the honours?’
The time it took for her to tear open the packet was some of the most brutal anticipation in Mort’s entire life. Her blue eyes staring into his, she unrolled the condom, her fingers gentlyworking down his length, one hand cupping him from below. Cruelty. Sheer, exhilarating cruelty.
Mort pressed a hand gently to her shoulder, pushing her back into the maelstrom of pillows. Damn, she was dazzling in this light, surrounded by this ridiculous bright decor that looked somehow like an aura extending from her. Mort ordinarily didn’t believe in anything of the sort, but when it came to Lily, he believed in anything. In everything.
Arms flexing beneath his own weight – it turned out there was a benefit to all those push-ups beyond the additional life expectancy – he kissed her hipbones, so soft and inviting, then followed the light lines of the muscles in her belly upwards, to the slope of her ribs, to the soft mounds of her breasts. She quivered beneath him, biting back a giggle.
‘That tickles,’ she whispered, trying not to alert the Bigfoot hunters next door.
‘I’ll bear that in mind,’ he said, his lips grazing her nipples. She squirmed, knitting her hands around the back of his neck and holding him there as he licked, sucked, his hand cupping the curve of her breast.
‘It doesn’t tickle anymore,’ she breathed, eyes clenched shut as she gave in to him.
Then, momentarily, the tension from her fingers increased; she was drawing him upwards, so that their eyes met and their hips were aligned. Mort reached a hand down, parting her legs, parting her lips, and revelling in her wetness.
Lily swore, cursing his name in invitation.
‘May I?’ he asked, wanting more than anything to hear that affirmation.
‘You’d fucking better,’ she whispered, her eyes hooded now, their lids lowered in anticipation.
He entered her gently at first, waiting for her to accept him,which she did, warmly, hungrily, her legs rising up to lock around his hips. He couldn’t help himself: he let out a groan that would certainly grab the attention of the Bigfoot fans.
‘Fuck, you feel good,’ Lily whispered, her fingers twining around his wrists. ‘I’ve been thinking about how you’d feel for so long.’
Mort was too aroused to be surprised. He’d known it, on some level, as much as he’d tried to deny it. ‘How long?’
‘Since you came to me bearing my business cards, like a dark prince of nerdiness.’
Mort tried not to laugh. ‘I’m glad I do it for you.’
