Holy Frigging Matrimony - A Tangled Series Short Story (The Tangled Series)
Author:Chase, Emma

Kate tenses and I close my eyes, praying she’ll go the hell away.


But not surprisingly, my prayers go unanswered. The doorknob jiggles. “Kate, open up.”


I get in one last drag on Kate’s tit, then release it with a pop. She closes her robe and drags me towards the door, pushing me to the corner so I’ll be hidden when it opens. Then she breathes deeply, brushes her hair out of her face, and cracks the door open just enough to see Delores.


Kate tells her, “I’m here. I was just taking a bath—what’s up?”


“The photographer’s on his way. Get your buns moving—he’ll be here in an hour.” Delores pauses, then asks, “Are you okay?”


“Yeah, of course. I’m fine.”


Suspicion swims in Dee’s tone. “You look flushed. Why are you all flushed?”


Kate is good at almost everything she does. Except lying. She sucks at that.


She waves her hand at her face. “I…I don’t know.”


“Were you masturbating?” Dee teases.


Oh, to all the angels and saints—how I wish she fucking was.


Watching Kate get herself off—in front of me—would be epic. It’s a major fantasy. But she’s hesitant, self-conscious. I’m trying to get her comfortable with the idea. Two birds, one stone and all that.


For guys, it’s a phenomenal turn on. So if you ladies are looking to spice things up a bit? Try a little self-diddling. Trust me—your audience will be begging for an encore.


Kate scoffs, “No, Dee, I wasn’t masturbating.”


Delores still isn’t convinced. “Are you having phone sex with the Goatfucker?”


Phone sex.


Also at the top of my to-do list.


“I told you to stop calling Drew that,” Kate scolds.


“I know—you’re right. I can’t help it. I picture his face and it just comes out of my mouth.”


Now Kate sounds impatient. “Okay—yes, alright? I’m having phone sex with Drew.”


“Eww! Why did you tell me? I don’t want to know that.”


Kate sighs. “Then why did you even ask? Look Dee, you worry about you right now, okay? I’ll make sure I’m ready when the photographer gets here.”


Begrudgingly, Delores says, “Alright. Your mom’s almost dressed, if you need any help.” Then she suggests, “Hey—maybe you should leave him hanging? Dipwad’s balls could be our something blue.”


“Goodbye, Delores.” Kate closes the door.


After we hear Dee close the door to her own bedroom, Kate locks ours and turns to me. “She’s onto us. I’m going to have to make sure she’s completely occupied before you sneak out. You might be here a while.”


I grin. “Oh, no…however will we ever fill the time?”


Kate turns and walks towards the forgotten chair. The silk robe sways teasingly, revealing the barest glimpse of her sumptuous ass.


“You’ll be filling the time perusing Bridal Magazine, while I get dressed. Not all of us can look presentable in five minutes flat.”


I shrug. “Seven if I need to shave.”


“Regardless. There’s no time to mess around—even for a quickie.”


I stalk towards her. “A—there’s always time to mess around. B—it depends on your definition of quickie. My interpretation happens to be how quickly I can make you scream my name. Past experience has shown I can make that happen pretty damn fast.”


For the first time, I notice the lace undergarments laid out on top of the dresser. A sheer, white bustier and matching string thong. I motion to them with my chin, “No garters?”


I’m not the biggest fan of lingerie, but if you’re going to wear it, garters are always a nice touch.


Kate pulls her hair free from its bun and shakes it out. Shiny darks strands fall down around her, making her look bed-rolling wild and accentuating the refined beauty of her dark eyes, pert nose, and sweetly kissable lips.


She answers, “No, no garters. You’ll understand why when you see the dress--” She stops, her expression panicked. She glances towards the garment bag hanging next to the bed. “You didn’t look at my dress, did you?”


I’m still distracted by Kate’s disheveled hair. I imagine running my hands through its soft waves, then wrapping it around my fingers for a tug while I’m buried deep inside her.


That’s why my voice sounds less than convincing when I answer, “No, I didn’t look.”


Kate points her finger at me, like a teacher reprimanding a student. “Tell the truth, Drew.”


“What am I? Ten years old?”


“Emotionally? Sometimes. But that’s beside the point. Did you peek at my dress?”


I reach around her waist and press our lower halves together. “No, baby, I didn’t look at your dress.”


Kate settles in to my embrace, toying with the neck of my t-shirt as she explains, “I’m glad you didn’t look, because I want you to be surprised. You’re going to lose it when you see me in it. It’ll be your new favorite dress.”


I kiss her forehead, and work my way down over her temple, across her cheek. “My favorite dress of yours will always be…the one on the floor.”