This is a one shot companion piece to Different Light and Life Happens. Hope you all like it.
warning: sexual content
Disclaimer: I do not own the WWE or the wrestlers in this story. I own only my oc. This story is fiction and is to be taken that way. No Copyright Infringement Intended.
It was the dress. John couldn't stop looking at her. They were seated at a table at the far end of the hall, overlooking the large, neatly-tended garden. The ceremony had finished an hour ago, and over by the steps the bride and groom were dancing. Missy was talking to one of the bridesmaids, the two of them smiling and giggling together. And John was simply sitting, looking at Missy, at her in the dress.
It was feminine, white, smooth around her breasts and then ruffled into folds as it plunged down her body. It cinched at the waist, flared a little around her hips. It had been a long time since he had seen her looking so . . . delicate. So like a woman. Usually, when the two of them were at home, Missy didn't bother with makeup. With three kids, it was tough for her to have any time to herself. But today her hair was clipped and tucked behind her ears, her lips and chin and eyes all clear and somehow brighter than usual. More alluring.
He watched her straighten the shoulder strap of her dress. She did so casually, still talking all the while. A finger slipped under the strap, lifted, revealing the bare smoothness of her underarm. A shifting of her collarbone.
John noticed other things, too. The bridesmaid was a pretty, dim-looking blonde with flowers in her hair. Her dress was pink. Across the room people danced together, close. Heavy September sun beamed in through the windows. But it all seemed focused somehow, on her. On Missy. Like looking through a lens at her, really at her. He took a mouthful of wine, swallowed.
Missy laughed at something the bridesmaid had said. John watched how she tilted back her head, her arm balanced lazily on the edge of her chair, pure white and slender, that fragile limb. The sound of her laugh, high and cool and her own-that was too much.
"Excuse me." He put a hand on Missy's shoulder, skin on skin. He could feel where the sunlight had warmed her. He smiled at the bridesmaid. "We just need to talk for a minute."
The bridesmaid smiled dimly. "Okay. I'll see you in a bit, Miss." And she took off. John watched her wander off to the other end of the hall.
"What is it?" asked Missy. But John didn't answer. He slid his hand down her arm to her hand, the lifted her by her fingertips. Missy followed him as he left the hall. She was smiling now. "Where are we going?"
John didn't answer. He squeezed her hand and they wandered from room to room. The wedding was being held in an estate home outside the city. The whole place was reserved until the evening-at least that was what Randy had said. Certainly the rest of the house seemed to be more or less empty. They came to a staircase and John lead her up to the next floor. Here, removed from the centre of the wedding, there was quiet.
The room they came to was large and decorated in gold and red, the windows and skirting moulded. A large, polished wooden table was the only furnishing. John lead Missy inside, then shut and locked the door behind them.
Missy frowned, half-puzzled and half-playful. She raised an eyebrow. "So what is all this about?"
John stood looking at her, for a moment breathless. She looked so girlish, so light and sweet. And at the same time in her expression there was a knowledge. Something sexual, teasing. He reached out, brushed his fingers down the curve of her neck. Beneath his touch she tensed, released, shivered.
Then they were kissing. Hard, wildly. John felt himself harden against her warmth and softness. Her tongue explored his mouth. She tasted of wine, smelled of some subtle perfume. Roses? His hands found the bare skin of her back.
They broke apart a little way, and Missy licked her lips, smiled. An invitation. John lifted her easily and set her on the table and they kissed again. He had to bend a little, and she stretched up, raising her lips to his. When the kiss ended she lay back, propped on her elbows, her legs spread.
Even as he removed her underwear she bent forward and with a few deft movements undid his belt. She lay back. He lifted her leg up. Her sandals lay on the floor.
"John . . ." Her voice was a moan, a tremor. He moved towards her. She lay back on the table now, the dress rucked up around her waist. "John . . ."
He entered her, slid deep inside. She was wet and accepting. A gasp. Her hands flat on the polished wood. John remained still inside her for a second, enjoying her heat, the tightness of this position. Then he began to stroke. With each thrust Missy shifted on the table, head tilted against the wood, eyes shut. She was biting her lip to keep from moaning.
Their breath quickened together. Faster, pumping into her. He could feel sweat beginning on his back.
The straps of her dress sat clear of her shoulders. Her beautiful face was blushed and glowing.
Her body tensed and her hips rose up off the table, every muscle tense then loose. John felt her insides squeezing at him and he let himself go. Hot, radiant waves of pleasure rushed through him. He came into her. It lasted far longer than usual. Each spurt of joy succeeded by another, sharper, more intense. For a moment he thought of nothing but her. A final squirt, a final moment of joy.
They remained that way, connected, panting and sweating, each glowing from their shared climax. Then John pulled out, letting Missy flop back onto the table. She pulled the dress down to cover herself. Her stomach and breasts rose and fell as she breathed.
John refastened his belt. Then he went to Missy and they kissed again, lazily, slowly, enjoying each other's familiar mouths. After a time, Missy sat up.
"So," she said, her voice languorous, almost sleepy. "What brought that on?"
John shrugged. He tucked her hair back behind her ears. "You just looked so beautiful. That I just had to have you."
She smiled and kissed him. "You always have me forever."
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