The Fitting.

Lily is twenty minutes late to her own wedding dress fitting. The bridal shop is empty except for the seamstress, a tiny woman with pins between her teeth who doesn't bother hiding her annoyance. Lily apologizes, breathless, still tasting coffee and croissant from the morning meeting that ran long.

"Your fiancé called," the seamstress says."Said he might stop by."

Lily's stomach drops. "David's coming here?"

"He wants to see you in the dress."

"But isn't that bad luck or something?"

The seamstress shrugs like she's seen enough marriages to know luck has nothing to do with it. She leads Lily to the back room where the white dress hangs. Lily strips down to her underwear, and steps into the silk dress.

The seamstress zips her up and murmurs, “wait here. It needs different thread.” Then she leaves.

Lily stands alone in front of the three-way mirror. The dress fits wrong everywhere. Too tight in the ribs, too loose in the hips. She looks like a little girl playing dress-up in her mother's closet, trying on a life that doesn't quite fit.

While she was on her way here, she saw couples walking down the streets with flowers and heart-shaped balloons. Valentine's Day. The whole city dressed up in red and pink, everyone paired off and smiling. In two weeks, she'll be married.

The bell above the shop door chimes.

"David?" she calls out, hearing footsteps in her direction.

A man appears in the doorway of the fitting room.

It's not David. It's Marcus.

Her hands fly to her chest like the dress might fall. "What the hell are you doing here?"

He's in a charcoal grey suit with no tie and the top button undone like he got dressed in a hurry or doesn't give a fuck about looking put together. He looks at her for three full seconds before speaking, and she feels every single one of them.

"David sent me. He's stuck in a meeting and asked me to take pictures and send them to him."

"You're lying."

"I'm not."

He holds up his phone as evidence. She sees David's name on the screen and the messages. Marcus is her fiancé's best friend since college. The best man. The one she's supposed to pretend doesn't exist.

"Well, you can leave. Just tell him it looks fine."

"He wants pictures, Lily."

"Marcus."

"What."

The way he says it—flat and bored. Like he's doing her a favor by standing there looking at her in a wedding dress meant for someone else.

"Turn around," he says.

"No."

"He wants to see the back."

She turns anyway as the dress whooshes against her thighs and she hears him inhale sharply.

"The seamstress put pins here," Lily touches the small of her back where the fabric gapes. "Needs to be taken in."

"Let me see."

He crosses the room and the air changes. He's close enough now that she smells him, something clean and cedar. His finger touches where hers was a second ago.

"Here?"

"Yeah."

He traces the line of pins down her spine. His touch is clinical and professional, but it doesn't stop her breath from hitching and his touch from burning.

"Too loose," he murmurs.

"I know."

His hands settle on her waist, testing the fabric like he knows what he's doing. Except his thumbs press against her ribs and she feels it everywhere, not just where he's touching.

"If she takes it in here," his fingers grip her waist, "it'll pull across your hips when you move."

"How the hell do you know that?"

"My sister got married last year and forced me to go to every fitting.”

"Sounds fun."

"It was torture."

His hands are still on her waist. She should step away and tell him to stop touching her. But she doesn't move.

"You're really going to marry him," Marcus says.

“Yeah. Two weeks from today. He wanted to get married on Valentine's Day. Thought it was romantic. But it didn't work.”

"And you don't?"

His reflection meets hers in the mirror. His eyes are darker than she remembers.

She turns to face him. Fucking hell. They're too close now, the fitting room feels too small and the air feels too thin.

Lily swallows. "You should take the picture.”

"Should I?"

"That's why you're here, right?"

"Is it?"

Her heart beats wildly against her ribs. His hand comes up and brushes her shoulder like he's fixing the strap. His knuckles graze her bare skin.

"There was a thread," he says.

"Liar."

His lips twitch.

"We can't do this," Lily whispers.

"I know."

"David is your best friend."

"I know."

"I'm literally wearing a wedding dress right now."

"Trust me, I can see that."

His hand moves from her shoulder to her neck, fingers curling against her pulse. He presses his thumb there and she knows he feels it racing.

"Tell me to leave," he groans lowly.

"The seamstress is going to be back any second," is all Lily manages to say.

"Then we should be quick."

"Quick about what?"

His mouth crashes into hers. The kiss is not soft. It's three years of sitting across from each other at dinners, standing too close at parties, looking away too fast. His mouth is hot and urgent, tasting like bourbon and something darker she's been trying not to want. She kisses him back without thinking, without asking permission from any rational part of herself.

His hands find the zipper. She feels it give, the teeth separating one by one.

"Marcus, we can't," she gasps against his mouth.

"You already said that."

The dress loosens. His palms slide against her bare back, pulling her closer. She feels him hard against her hip through the layers of silk and she thinks, distantly, that this is insane. Her hands are in his hair and she doesn't remember putting them there.

Support my writing 🤍

He walks her backward until her spine hits the mirror. His lips move down her neck, his teeth scraping her collarbone. She bites back a moan.

"Quiet,” he murmurs against her skin. "She'll hear you."

His hand slips inside the loosened dress and cups her breast over the thin lace of her bra. His thumb circles her nipple and she arches into him. Marcus makes a throaty sound.

"Three years," he groans against her neck. "Do you have any idea what it's been like?"

"Don't."

"Watching you with him. Watching him touch you like he owns you."

"Marcus, stop."

"Knowing exactly how you'd feel under my hands."

His hand moves lower, over her stomach, her hip. The dress is barely hanging on. She should stop this right now. She's going to marry David in two weeks. Good David. Kind David who's never made her feel like this, like she's burning alive, like she might die if Marcus stops touching her.

His fingers find the edge of her underwear, but suddenly, the bell chimes. They break apart like guilty teenagers. Lily yanks the dress and struggles with the zipper with shaking hands. Marcus steps back, runs both hands through his hair, chest heaving. She can see the outline of his dick straining against his dress pants. He doesn't even bother trying to hide it.

"Miss kingston?" The seamstress's voice sounds closer now. "I have the thread."

"Just a second," Lily calls out. Her voice sounds wrecked and raw.

Marcus stares at her. His lips are swollen and pink. There's also lipstick smeared on his collar.

"You got lipstick on you.”

He glances down at his collar and tries to wipe it with his thumb. But it makes it worse.

Lily sighs and walks to him on unsteady legs, furious with herself, with him and with how badly she wants to finish what they started. She unbuttons his collar with fingers that won't stop shaking and works the stain with her thumb until it's less obvious.

"There," she says.

Their faces are inches apart. Marcus touches her chin and tilts her face up so she has to look at him.

"This doesn't end here," he murmurs.

"It has to."

"Miss Kingston? Everything okay?"

"Coming," Lily calls back.

Marcus backs toward the door. At the threshold, he stops, turns back.

"I'll tell David the dress looks perfect," he says.

"You didn't take a picture."

He looks at her, still flushed, wedding dress slipping off one shoulder, her lips red and swollen. "Don't need a picture."

Then he leaves. The seamstress enters thirty seconds later, humming something off-key, completely oblivious. Lily stands in front of the mirror, watching her reflection. Her lips are stained dark. Her chest is heaving. The dress feels wrong.

"Ready, dear?" the seamstress asks.

Lily clears her throat and plasters a smile on her face. “As ready as I'd ever be.”

She lifts her arms and lets the woman pin, tuck and fix what can be fixed.

---

Six hours later, Lily is standing outside Marcus'apartment.

The sun set an hour ago. The street smells like someone's cooking dinner, garlic, and wine. She knocked five minutes ago, but he hasn't answered. She knows he's home. His car's in the lot, and his lights are on.

The door swings open. He's changed into a pair of grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt. He looks at her for a couple of seconds, taking in the jeans and sweater she changed into.

"You going to invite me in or what?" she asks.

He steps aside without a word.

The apartment is exactly like she imagined. Clean, minimal, expensive. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. Through the window, she can see restaurants lit up with candlelight, couples holding hands on the street below.

"David thinks I'm at my sisters’," she says.

"Okay."

"I told her I'm staying at a hotel tonight. Need space before the wedding."

"Makes sense."

"Marcus."

"Yeah?"

"Are you going to say something or just stand there?"

He crosses the room in three strides, frames her face with both hands and kisses her hard. She drops her purse, wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him back with everything she couldn't in that fitting room.

"Bedroom," she gasps between kisses.

"You sure about this?"

"Shut up."

He lifts her and she wraps her legs around his waist. He carries her down the hall, kicks the bedroom door open and gently drops her on the floor.

"We should talk about this," he says.

"We've had three years to talk."

"Lily."

"I don't want to talk, Marcus. If you want me to leave, tell me now. Otherwise shut up and touch me."

He pulls his shirt over his head in one motion. She's seen him shirtless before, summers at the lake house, pool parties, but never like this. Never for her.

"Come here," he says.

She takes a few steps forward had he pulls off her sweater and tosses it aside. Then he unhooks her bra with one hand like he's done this before, like he's thought about it. She feels exposed standing there in just her jeans.

"Fuck," he breathes, looking at her.

"What?"

"You're so beautiful it makes me insane."

He cups her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples until they're hard. She arches into his hands, her head falling back. His mouth finds her neck, her collarbone, lower. He takes her nipple between his teeth, biting gently before soothing with his tongue. The sensation shoots straight between her legs.

"Marcus, please."

"Please what?"

"More. I need more."

He unbuttons her jeans, and slides them down along with her underwear in one motion. She steps out of them, completely naked now while he's still in sweatpants. He backs her toward the bed, hand on her chest, pushing until she sits.

"Lie back," he says.

Lily rests her back against the bed and Marcus kneels between her legs, hands on her knees, spreading them wide. She's completely exposed to him, and she can feel how wet she already is.

"I wanted to do this in that fitting room," he says, voice low. "I wanted to get on my knees and taste you while you were wearing that dress."

"Then do it now."

He leans in, pressing his mouth to her inner thigh. Marcus kisses slowly up toward where she's aching for him. His breath ghosts over her clit and she shivers, her hips lifting.

"Look at me," he growls.

Her eyes flicker up to his dark hungry gaze.

"I want you to watch while I make you come," he says.

Then he puts his mouth on her. Lily cries out, her hips bucking. Marcus’ tongue is flat and wide, licking up her center before circling her clit. Slow, deliberate circles that make her thighs shake. He grips her hips, holding her still when she tries to move.

"Stay still," he murmurs against her pussy. "Let me taste you."

His tongue dips inside her, fucking her with it while his nose brushes her clit. The combination makes her vision blur. She fists her hands in the sheets, trying to hold on.

"Marcus, god, I'm—"

He doesn't stop. His hands slide down, grab her ass, squeeze hard before one hand comes down in a sharp slap. The sting mixes with pleasure and she gasps, her whole body jolting.

"You like that?"

"Yes."

He spanks her again, harder this time, while his tongue flicks rapid circles around her clit. She's close, so close. He slides two fingers inside her, curling them up to hit that spot that makes her see stars.

"Oh fuck, Marcus, right there."

He pumps his fingers in and out, fast and relentless, while his tongue works her clit. His other hand grabs her ass again, spreads her wider, spanks her once more. The sharp sting sends her over the edge.

She comes hard, screaming his name, her thighs clamping around his head. He doesn't let up though. He keeps licking, sucking and fucking her with his fingers through every wave. When she finally starts to come down, he slows, gentles his touch, pressing soft kisses to her inner thighs.

"Good girl," he murmurs, kissing his way up her body. "So fucking good for me."

She can taste herself when he kisses her mouth. His chin is soaked with her wetness and it's the hottest thing she's ever seen.

She reaches for his sweatpants and shoves them down. He's hard and thick, his tip already glistening. She wraps her hand around him and strokes once. He hisses through his teeth.

"Condom?" she asks.

"Nightstand."

She reaches over, finds one, tears it open with her teeth. Then she rolls it onto him while he watches, his jaw clenched tight.

"Lily."

"Yeah?"

"If we do this, everything changes."

"I know."

"The wedding—"

"I don't want to think about that right now."

She lies back and pulls him with her. He settles between her thighs, his dick pressing against her entrance.

"Last chance to stop," he says roughly.

"I don't want to stop. Do you?"

"Fuck no."

Then he slowly pushes inside, giving her time to adjust. She's tight around him, still sensitive from her orgasm. He feels bigger than she expected, stretching her, filling her completely.

"Okay?" he asks, barely moving.

"Yeah. God, yeah, move."

Marcus pulls out slowly, then pushes back in. Building a rhythm that makes her toes curl. His mouth finds hers, kissing her deep while he fucks her slow and deep.

"Wanted this so long," he mutters against her lips. "So fucking long."

"Faster. Please, Marcus, harder."

"No," he grunts, slowing down even more. "You take what I give you."

The dominance in his voice makes her clench around him. He groans, feeling it.

"Hmm. You like when I tell you what to do.”

"Mhmm."

"Say it."

"I like when you tell me what to do."

"Good girl."

He pulls out completely and she whimpers at the loss.

"Roll over," he orders. "On your hands and knees."

Lily quickly gets into position. Marcus grabs her hips and pulls her ass up higher. Then he slams back inside in one thrust. She cries out, the angle so much deeper from behind.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groans, gripping her hips hard enough to bruise. "So tight around my cock."

He sets a brutal pace, pounding into her from behind. Each thrust hits that spot inside her that makes her see stars. His hand comes down on her ass, a sharp slap that echoes in the room.

"Marcus, oh god, Marcus."

"That's it, baby. Say my name. Let me hear you."

He spanks her again, then again, alternating cheeks until her skin burns. She's so close, the pleasure building impossibly fast.

"Touch yourself," he demands. "I want to feel you come on my cock."

She slides her hand between her legs and finds her clit. The added stimulation combined with the angle and the pace sends her spiraling. She's right on the edge.

"Come for me," he growls, slamming into her harder. "Now."

Her whole body locks up, clenching around him so tight he can barely move. She screams into the pillow, pleasure exploding through her in waves.

"Fuck, Lily, I'm—" He pulls her upright, back against his chest, with his arm wrapped around her waist. Marcus keeps fucking up into her while she's still coming. The change in angle triggers another wave and she whimpers.

"One more," his lips brushes againsther ear. "Give me one more."

"I can't."

"You can."

His hand finds her clit, rubbing tight circles while he pounds up into her. His other hand wraps around her throat, squeezing lightly.

"Come," he commands.

The third orgasm tears through her, so intense she goes limp in his arms. He follows immediately, burying himself deep, groaning her name against her neck.

They collapse forward onto the bed, still connected. His chest heaves against her back. Neither of them can speak.

After a minute, he pulls out carefully, deals with the condom and comes back to bed.

"Roll over," he says, softer this time.

She does and he pulls her on top of him, settling her thighs on either side of his hips. She can feel him already getting hard again beneath her.

"You're not done?" she asks, breathless.

"Not even close."

He reaches for another condom, rolls it on and grips her hips.

"Ride me.”

She positions herself over him and sinks down slowly. They both groan. This angle is different and deeper. She starts to move, rolling her hips.

"That's it," Marcus encourages, his hands guiding her. "Take what you need."

Lily sets her own pace, chasing her pleasure. His hands move from her hips to her breasts, playing with her nipples while she moves. The dual stimulation makes her pick up speed.

"Look at you," he says, watching her. "So fucking beautiful riding my cock."

The praise makes her clench around him. He notices and smirks.

"Ah, I see. You like it when I praise you. You like it when I tell you how good you feel. My good girl with her little praise kink.”

"Yes."

"Say please."

"Please."

"Please what?"

"Please tell me."

"You're perfect. Your pussy feels like heaven. I want to fuck you every day for the rest of my life."

The words push her over again. She comes with a broken sob, still moving on top of him. He grabs her hips, takes control, fucking up into her through it.

"One more second, baby, I'm right there."

He pulls her down and kisses her hard while he comes. Lily feels him pulsing inside her, his grip tightening on her hips, holding her against him.

They stay like that. Connected. Breathing hard. His hands stroke up and down her back.

"Holy shit," she finally says.

"Yeah."

She gets off him and lies down beside him. He removes the condom, throw it into the bedside trash and pulls her against his chest. Outside, the city glitters with Valentine's Day lights, red and pink neon bleeding into the darkness.

"What did we just do?" Lily whispers.

"I don't know."

"I'm supposed to marry David in two weeks."

"I know."

"Two weeks from today."

"I know."

Lily glances up at him. His eyes are soft and vulnerable now.

"I can't marry him," she admits.

"No?"

"Not after this. Not when I—" She stops.

"When you what?"

"When I think I've been in love with you for three years."

He exhales deeply and pulls her impossibly closer. “Same.”

They fall asleep like that and when she wakes hours later, he's still holding her. The ring on her left hand catches the moonlight.

She takes it off and sets it on the nightstand.

"What are you doing?" his voice is rough with sleep.

"Choosing."

"Choosing what?"

"You. This. Whatever the hell this is."

His lips curve into a smile and he leans forward and kisses her softly. "You're sure?"

"Yes.”

Outside, fireworks explode over the city. Red and gold sparks rain down over the skyline.

In two weeks, there won't be a wedding. There will be difficult conversations, hurt feelings and consequences neither of them can predict.

But right now, on this Valentine's Day, she's exactly where she wants to be and that's enough.

---

How was/is your Valentine's day? Tell me all about it.