Stacy — Our Bachelor/ette parties (3)

Stacy — Our Bachelor/ette parties (3)
"We're closed for a private party," the receptionist said to me when I reached her desk, clearly surprised to have to say this at all.

"I'm aware. This is me crashing it," I said, laser focused on my goal, walking right past her.

"Sir, I'm afraid you can't go back there," she said, coming out from behind her desk to follow me.

I took the stairs two at a time, thinking about how it ended up being a whore house when we went to a similar place earlier tonight. Marlene was the epitome of class. She wasn't Stoner Steve. She wouldn't bring Stacy to a place like that. Not even by accident. So why was I getting angrier?

About to completely lose my cool and have my girl's name bouncing off the walls of the place, I reached the top of the staircase and entered a hallway, instantly frozen in my tracks the moment I did.

Standing a few doors away from me, in nothing but a sheet, was my future wife. The mother of my child. My everything.

"Scottie?" Stacy called out to me.

"Sir, you really can't be here tonight. If you'd like to make an appointment for sometime in the future—" the receptionist said calmly.

"Terry, right?" I said, sparing a quick glance at her name tag.

"That's right," she said, instantly beaming at me.

"See the woman coming at us? That's my fiancée. Mine. She's very pregnant but she won't tell me and it's fucking with my head. So I'm a little stressed, Terry. I'm so sick of people telling me I'm not allowed to see her tonight. Kindly don't be one of them and go away," I said threateningly, turning my angry eyes on her.

Conflicted eyes stared back at me as she considered what to do. No smooth talking tonight. Way too angry.

"Did I stutter? Leave us the fuck alone," I roared, finally sending her into motion, scared eyes looking back at me as she backed away.

"I'm calling security," she said meekly, before backing away just as Stacy reached me.

"What was that about? She looked terrif—" Stacy began, her concerned eyes searching my face.

Wasting no time, I backed her up against the wall, taking her hands in mine and pinning them above her head.

"I'd be more worried about myself if I were you, my whore of a fiancée," I said huskily, my breath hot on her lips. "These stay up here," I said, pressing down on her hands before letting go. "Did you leave your fucking brain at home? What the fuck are you doing here, my baby?"

Her eyes widened for the words my baby, making me smirk. I suppose I had to find something else to call her in public now. My fingertips brushed over her naked shoulders. A featherlight moan slipped out of her mouth.

"I didn't know they were bringing me here," she said, sliding her fingers into my hair, disobeying me despite the anger in my voice.

"So my fucking whore knows she's being a dirty bad girl. Did you get a masseuse or a masseur, Stace?" I said, laying my lips on one of her shoulders as my hands trailed down her body.

I parted the sheet to lay my left hand on her right hip, taking a firm hold of it while my mouth paid her shoulders and neck ample attention.

"Scott, the receptionist will be back any moment and the girls—" she said urgently, biting back a moan, struggling to ward off the orgasms until my other hand slid under the sheet, my fingers parted her folds and slid into her wet pussy.

"Shouldn't my secret whore have thought of all that before letting someone else touch what's mine?" I asked with a growl, kisses along her neck and shoulders becoming frantic, increasing the pressure on her right hip as my fingers pumped into her roughly.

Her body quaked against mine as she surrendered to the overload of stimuli even as her friends laughed somewhere in the background.

"Stop making a fucking scene," she hissed, her hands turning into fists in my hair before she yanked my head back. "It's just a massage."

"Man or woman, my future wife?" I asked, letting go of her hip to undo my belt and unzip my pants. "Who did my little whore moan for?"

Concentrating hard on not letting anything out. Heavy breaths coming out of her. Pussy crushing my fingers as she came. Parted lips. If she wasn't going to use her mouth, I sure as shit would.

I took my fingers out of her pussy, removed her hands from my hair and stuck my tongue down her throat.

Rubbing the head of my dick between her wet folds, I said, "Answer the fucking question or you're getting fucked right here, right now. I don't give a shit who sees. Man or woman, Stace."

I said I wanted an answer but my tongue was back in her mouth the moment I stopped talking. Free hand trailing up her spine, head of my dick rubbing insistently at the entrance of her coming pussy. This was her undoing. She moaned loudly into my mouth, took my dick from me and started jerking me off. Caught off guard, I fucked into her hand instantly, my hands slid down her body and I grabbed her ass.

"There isn't a fucking right answer and you know it. Both would piss you off, but it's not necessary. They don't work for other people, Scott. My special spots only respond to you," she rasped out, licking her lips as she stared at my dick in her hand.

I glared at her openly, trailing my hands up her back, realization coming over me.

"Fucking dirty, dick hungry brat. You want this. You want me to fuck you. If you didn't, you would have just said no one. No massage oil on your body. You haven't had your massage yet," I said, my hands stilling on her body.

She looked up at me and her eyes unexpectedly flooded with tears.

"Shit," I said, trying to pull away, but she wouldn't let me, pulling me close with one hand, still obsessively working my dick with the other. "What's wrong? All the strip clubs didn't do it for you, baby?" I asked, immediately wishing it unsaid, but jealousy combined with the pleasure of her hand on my dick were a strange combination.

"What woman would care about what was in a strip club when she spent seven years choosing men because they resembled Scott Brady in some small way? You do it for me. Just you. I missed you so much tonight," she said and all I could do was watch her and listen.

No reaction. Her words, the pleasure of her touch, her beautiful eyes filled with longing had me paralyzed.

"It's my bachelor party and everyone says I can't spend it with my best friend. They say I can't call and say, 'Scottie, I'm getting married tomorrow. For real this time. To the absolute love of my life'," she said, her hand abruptly stilling on my dick.

"Well that's bullshit. Suddenly I'm your best friend again just because you want dick on the night before our wedding?" I teased her and we shared a little laugh.

She brought my dick back to the sheet, slipping past it, guiding me towards her pussy.

"Have you been holding on to that for all this time? So petty," she said with a sniffle. "Not going to fuck me then?" she challenged.

"Damn straight. I'm your best friend for life, no matter what else we become. No one else. Fuck Kenny and Willow. Just me," I said, laying my lips on hers again, before withdrawing from her.

She looked so hurt, it broke my heart. I wiped away her tears and said, "Silly girl. You should have called me if you wanted me to come and get you. I always will. Fuck what anyone thinks about it. I can't fuck you here though. I don't have everything I need to punish you. Talk's cheap, Stace. Who knows how many naked men you let near you tonight," I said, instantly getting pissed off again.

She laughed and said, "They won't let you take me," as she watched me put my dick back into my pants with effort.

"Who is asking for permission? Let's get your horny pussy punished," I said, making sure the sheet was secure before picking her up just as the receptionist showed up with security.

"There he is. Get him out of here," Terry said, glaring at me indignantly.

"Shit," I cursed, wishing I had handled things better with Terry earlier.

"It's okay. We're just leaving," said Stacy, wrapping her arms around my neck.

"Like this? That's ridiculous. What about your stuff?" I asked, glaring at the security guards for looking Stacy's way.

"If we go back for my stuff, you'll have to fight a room full of women for me and likely lose. Plus do you really want to know who would have been giving the massage? Tony hand picked him. Your call, Scottie," she said, watching me with amusement dancing in her eyes.

Yup, no more losing battles for tonight.

"Nothing but a sheet it is," I said, walking away from the security guards, who had since become very interested in the floor.

"You can't just walk away with that. It's silk. Do something," Terry called after us.

"Put it on the bill," my fiancée called back, watching me as I paced myself, cautiously taking each step, painfully aware of the precious cargo in my arms.