The Secret To A Happy Marriage

Evie’s heart’s racing when the groomsman shows up at her door. She’s still in that silky white slip when Colin steps inside and says he’s got dirt that could nuke her wedding. The problem? If he spills and she bolts, he loses the buddy ride-or-die he counts on. Evie swears they’ll stay tight no matter what, but Colin smirks like that’s cute. "Friends is good," he says, spreading his hands, "Friends who fuck? That’s bank." She doesn’t blink. She peels the slip off, tits out, nipples already tight, and drops to her knees in one smooth move. Colin’s cock is out fast—thick, heavy, flushed at the tip. Evie’s mouth stretches around it, spit running down her chin while she strokes the shaft she can’t swallow. He lets her work it, balls-deep gags and all, then drags her up, spins her, and bends her over the dressing table. Her wedding-veil lace sits right beside her head while he kicks her legs apart and drives straight into her soaked cunt. No slow build, just a slick stretch and filthy slap of skin every time his hips smack her ass. Evie claws the table, moaning like the bad girl no bridal magazine mentions, pushing back harder, wanting every inch. Colin fucks like he’s got something to prove—grunting, sweating, gripping her hips so hard fingerprints will show under the dress tomorrow. When she cums, she clamps down so tight he curses, buries himself to the root, and unloads deep, flooding her. He stays inside, breathing hot against her neck. Evie laughs, breathless, come still leaking down her thighs. "Secret’s safe," she pants. "But you’re safe too… and this little arrangement stays on the menu whenever you want it." Outside, the rehearsal dinner starts calling their names.