Here Comes The Bride

Her voice cracked mid-sentence as another wave of laughter doubled her over, forehead touching my shin while her shoulders quaked. The waistband of her leggings sagged dangerously low, revealing the dimpled curve where her back met her hips—and the triumphant little paw print I'd kissed now glaring at me like a brand.

"No, Sanah, stop—" I twisted away, but she lunged with the precision of a cat pouncing, straddling my ribs again with her phone already raised. The camera's red recording light blinked like a warning signal.

"Say it," she commanded, her weight pinning my diaphragm so each protest came out as a wheeze. Her free hand yanked at the waistband of her leggings, exposing more of the smudged kitten print near her hip. "Or I'll make you kiss every single one of these cats—backwards."

The phone's flashlight flared again as she angled it downward, the lens capturing my panicked expression inches from the stretched fabric of her inner thigh. "Three..." she counted, shifting her hips until the damp heat of her leggings pressed against my cheek, "...two..." Her thumb hooked into the waistband, peeling it lower to reveal another grinning feline, "...one—"

"Okay! Okay!" I choked, the words escaping in a rush of humid desperation. "I—I wanna marry your butt!" The admission echoed tinny from her phone speaker, and Sanah's resulting shriek was pure, unfiltered triumph. She collapsed onto me, her laughter vibrating through my ribs as she hugged her knees to her chest, the forgotten phone now filming the ceiling.

"You're mine," she gasped between giggles, flipping the camera to capture her flushed face hovering over mine. Her thumb swiped across the screen—posting it, sharing it, branding me—before she finally rolled off, leaving me gasping on the carpet. "Now..." she sighed, stretching like a satisfied predator, "...time to kiss the bride."

Before I could scramble away, Sanah hooked her thumbs into her leggings and shimmied them down in one fluid motion. The fabric pooled around her ankles, revealing the pale curve of her bare ass—and the faint pink imprint of the kitten's face lingering near her inner thigh. "C'mon, hubby," she taunted, wiggling her hips just inches from my face, "Seal the deal."

The first contact burned—not from heat, but humiliation—as my lips brushed skin still warm from being trapped in fabric. Sanah's breath hitched, her fingers tightening in my hair. "Properly," she demanded, grinding the word into my forehead. I felt her muscles flex as she arched, presenting herself like some perverse sacrament, and the second kiss landed with a wet, trembling smack against the spot where cotton had clung minutes before.

Her triumphant squeal dissolved into breathless pants as she twisted to capture my expression—my lips glistening, her bare skin marked by the ghost of my **** devotion. The phone's flash illuminated the tear tracking down my cheek just as she murmured, "Now that's a wedding photo."