five minutes
“I only need five minutes,” he murmurs into her ear. “You need five minutes.”
“I don’t,” she lies. “And five is ambitious, even for you.”
A cloud of eucalyptus steam drifts through the door of their ensuite bathroom. There’s a white towel tied low around Theo’s hips, and Astoria can feel the heat from his skin through the pale blue satin of her bridesmaids dress.
Theo kisses her cheek, her shoulder. “You won’t know for sure unless you let me try.”
Outside, the grounds hum with pre-wedding activity—florists, caterers, musicians all scurrying around like little ants. Spring is just settling in, and the magic from the weather charms hangs in the faintest shimmer above the marquee going up beside the rose garden.
Astoria is meant to be outside supervising—she only came inside to change—but she should have known what would happen when she asked Theo to help her with her dress.
“You’ve hardly slept in weeks,” Theo says more seriously. “If you won’t take a nap, at least take a break.”
Astoria traces circles across his bare chest, but her eyes flick to the door. “I need to check on Daphne.”
“I thought your mother was with her.” Theo carves a hand along her waist. The other reaches behind her, sliding up her back to her shoulder, where it massages a knot that’s bothered her for weeks.
Her eyes flutter shut as she leans into his touch. “All the more reason I should go check.”
He dips his head so he can kiss along the slope of her shoulder, tugging the thin strap of her dress off as he goes. Heat coils behind her navel and she sighs, too content to pretend she doesn’t want to stay, when he mouths at the juncture of her neck.
She leans back against the desk and says, “Only five minutes.” She repeats it as she lets Theo skim his fingers beneath the slit of her dress and across her inner thigh. He leaves his hand there, his thumb grazing the soft skin just beside her knickers.
He watches her tuck her bottom lip between her teeth. “I bet you’re already ready for me.”
With two fingers, he pushes the fabric to the side. His palm grazes her clit, making her gasp, and he makes a satisfied noise as he teases the slick seam of her cunt.
“Like I said,” he murmurs, withdrawing his hand, “already wet.”
Astoria opens her mouth to respond—to tell him she isn’t that eager—but Theo swipes both fingers across her lips and she parts them further so he can slide them inside. She runs her tongue around them until they’re clean, looking up at him so she can watch his pupils blow even wider, the crystal-blue of his eyes almost completely eclipsed.
She tucks her hand between the edges of his towel and strokes him casually, letting her thumb tease the dampness at the tip. A low groan rises from his throat, but he pulls her hand away.
“Turn around,” he murmurs. “Bend over so I can see.”
And so she does. She gathers her dress in one hand, clutching it by her waist, while the other hand braces against the desk. She pushes her hips back and expects Theo to grab them in return.
Instead, he says, “Wider, love.”
A shiver runs through her as she shifts her feet again, exposing herself so he can see exactly where she’s starting to drip down her inner thighs.
There’s shuffling, the sound of his knees landing softly on the floor. And then, palms shaping to her hips, thumbs pressing into the cheeks of her arse, the heat of his breath right against her core. “Good fucking girl.”