Page 12 of Curvy Love

God, she’s perfect. I lead her out of the wedding chapel space or whatever they call it. It takes me opening two different doors once we’re out in the myriad of hallways to hit the jackpot.

“Here we go.” I move out of the way and give her entrance into the room.

She stops short. “This is the bridal room. What are we going to do in here?”

“Find a safety pin or a sewing kit.” It’s not a large room. It has two vanity stations and a few chairs. There’s a table with a half-eaten cheese and fruit tray and the remnants of what looks to be mimosas. I move through the room opening bags and whatnot trying to find what I need when I catch sight of a pile of the little silver pins.

The door handle jiggles and I catch sight of Laurel’s wide eyes in the mirror as she stands behind me. I grab her hand and the safety pins, then pull her into one of the three dressing stalls at the back of the room. I put my finger to her lips. The stall isn’t much bigger than a public toilet stall, with just a small built-in bench and a floor-length mirror.

The main door opens and a couple of women enter—I’m guessing women by their giggles and voices. But I lose track of anything except Laurel when I look over at her. She gives me a wicked grin, then drops her hands, the top of her dress falls exposing her incredible tits to me.

I’ve got my hands and mouth on them before she can even take a breath. Fuck me, they’re perfect. Big and full and tipped with perky rosy nipples that bead against my tongue. She whimpers and I reach up and put a finger to her mouth. She sucks it between her lips, rolling her tongue across my digit and letting me know in no uncertain terms that if she were sucking my cock right now, she’d bring me to my knees.

I move my mouth off her breast and take her lips, surging my tongue into her mouth and releasing all my passion and urgency. God, I want her. I’m so fucking hard it’ll be a miracle if I don’t come in my suit pants. I should be embarrassed by how turned on I am, but I can’t be. This woman undoes me.

I’m still cupping her tits, flicking her nipples with my thumbs when the women finally leave the dressing room. I keep kissing her for a few minutes more, but finally I end the kiss.

“If we keep that up, I’ll have to fuck you right here and this is not where I want our first time to be. I want to lay you out on my bed and feast on every delectable inch of your amazing curves.”

“Yes,” she murmurs.

I chuckle. “I want to ask you to come home with me tonight, but I don’t think I can be a gentleman.” I grab her hand and press it to the front of my trousers, so she knows exactly how hard I am for her. “I want you too much.”

“Yes,” she says again.

“Yes, to what,muñeca?”

“To all of that feasting and ungentlemanlike behavior.”

I toss my head back and laugh. I nearly tell her right then and there that I love her, but I manage to swallow the words. I look down at her tits. “You have amazing breasts,” I tell her. “It seems a shame against humanity to cover them.”

“I don’t think Gwen would appreciate me coming to her reception with my boobs hanging out.”

“Probably not. And frankly the thought of anyone else looking at them pisses me the fuck off. So turn around.” She does. Then she pulls the two straps up behind her neck and I proceed to pin the hell out of it so that it’s not coming loose until we undo it.

Tonight. When she comes home with me. Fuck me, I’m a lucky man.

When we’re walking out of the room, hand-in-hand, she pauses. “How did you know to look in there?”

I lift a shoulder in a shrug. “Grew up in a house full of women. There are always bags of safety pins, bobby pins and tampons everywhere, but especially a bridal or Quinceañera room.”

By the time we make it to the reception hall, we’ve already missed the introduction of the bride and groom and their first dance. Now the floor is opened to other couples and I walk straight there, pulling Laurel tight against me. Her body fits perfectly against mine, and I love that her back is bare and I can touch her skin.

For the next hour, we dance and laugh and flirt. We share stories about having too many sisters. She tells me about her favorite foods from back in Texas.

“You know my grandparents are from San Antonio,” I say. “They moved up here after my parents had settled here. I know my abuelita misses it though. She’s gonna love you.”I love you.

But I don’t say it because it’s too damn soon.

We sit back at our table which has cleared out as people have moved around in the reception hall.

“We should probably go and introduce you to some people. I see a few of my business professors at a table over there.” She nods her head in the direction to our right.

“We don’t need to do that,” I tell her.

“But it’s why you came with me. So it’s the least I can do.”

I grab her hand and bring it to my lips. “I came to spend time with you, get to know you. I don’t give a shit about networking. If you want me to meet some people here that are important to you, then yeah, let’s get up and mingle, otherwise, I’m happy right where I am.”

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