The Wrong Twin at the Wedding novel · Chapter 3 of 24

Chapter 3: Open Book

My first night with the man I have loved since school, until the elevator doors open on his brother holding a bag of wet laundry.

"I want everything," I said. "In order."

"That is a plan, not an answer."

"It's both."

I stepped out of the dress and left it in a white heap on the carpet.

Anders looked at me in my slip and made a small, helpless noise.

Then I remembered the card.

I had tucked an index card into my garter that morning, for a night I had assumed would never come.

I pulled it out and held it up.

He took it and read it in the lamplight.

"Step one, kiss," he read. "Step two, kiss, with hands. Step three, ask him to take off his shirt, but nicely."

"It's a draft."

"Step six says, do not cry."

"That one's for me."

"Step nine says, ladies second."

"I stand by that."

He got out his pen, the one from the register, and crossed out step nine.

Then he wrote underneath it in his neat square hand: Ladies, whenever she wants.

"You can't edit my card."

"I just did." He dropped it on the bedside table and put his hands in my hair. "Step one."

He kissed me slowly this time, and he meant every second of it.

There was nobody to perform for. There was only his mouth, and the sound I made against it.

I got his jacket off. I got his tie off, the gray one, and threw it across the room.

I did not get the shirt off, because my hands were shaking.

"Let me," he said, and undid it himself, one button at a time, watching my face.

His chest was warm and broad, and he was breathing hard.

I put my palm flat over his heart. It was going as fast as mine.

"You're nervous," I said.

"I'm first in my class at being nervous," he said. "You would have to try very hard to beat me."

I laughed into his throat, and he lifted me and carried me to the bed.

He laid me down carefully, and I pulled him down with me.

Then he kissed his way down my neck, over my collarbone and lower, until the slip was gone and his mouth found my breast.

I arched off the sheets and said his name, the real one, for the first time out loud.

He lifted his head. "Again."

"Anders."

"Again," he said, and the sound he made when I did was worth the whole seven years.

His hand slid between my thighs and found my pussy wet and shaking.

His thumb circled my clit, slow and sure.

"Don't you dare stop."

He did not stop. He stroked my clit slowly at first, then with more pressure, until I was gripping the headboard and saying nonsense.

When I came, it went on and on, and I heard myself cry out and did not care who heard it.

He held me through the aftershocks.

"That was a hundred," I said, when I could talk.

"Out of?"

"I don't give out hundreds. I have been saving it."

He smiled, a real one, the first I had seen on that face all day.

Then he reached for his belt, and I stopped him with my hand.

"Wait," I said. "Tell me it will hurt, if it will."

"It might. A little. Then it should stop."

"Then I want it anyway."

He undressed in the half-dark, and I looked at every inch of him.

His cock was long and thick and hard, and I wanted to learn all of him.

He knelt over me. "Tell me to slow down."

"Slow down and I'll bite you."

He gave a breathless laugh and pushed his cock into my wet pussy, an inch at a time, his forehead against mine.

It stung, and it stretched, and I held my breath until he stopped.

"Leonie. Look at me."

I looked.

His eyes were wet, and I had never seen that either.

"I'm here," he said. "It's me."

"I know it's you," I said. "That's the whole point."

I moved my hips, just once, and the sting turned into something else, deep and slow and good.

He groaned and began to move.

I wrapped my legs around him and learned the rhythm quickly, because I learn everything quickly.

He fucked into me in long strokes and said my name into my neck, again and again.

I felt it building a second time, bigger, and I dug my nails into his back.

"Anders. I'm going to..."

"Go on," he said, his voice cracking. "Go first. Go first, Leonie."

For once in my life I did.

He came deep inside me a moment later, spilling his cum with a shudder that shook the whole bed.

We lay tangled together, damp and out of breath.

"I'd like to file a complaint," I said into his chest.

"What is it?"

"I should have done that years ago."

He kissed my hair, and I was asleep before he answered.

At nine in the morning, I woke up with my cheek on his arm, and the gray tie in the light fixture.

We dressed in the same clothes and rode the elevator down together, my hand in his.

The doors slid open on the lobby floor.

Tobin stood outside, in yesterday's shirt, holding a plastic bag of wet laundry.

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