With This Ring, I Thee Bed. Alison Tyler

jerk and he emptied into me as my cunt gripped around him tight, taking every little slice of friction he might offer.

      My hair was a mess.

      I let my heart come down a beat, and looked at my watch. Then I was scrambling across the trunk like a madwoman, hair standing on end or hanging in clumps, yoga pants nearly tangling me so that I went down in the dirt. “Oh, God! Oh, God! I’ll never make it now!” I was damn near hysterical.

      He took pity on me, bundled me up and put me in my car. Monroe pulled out into traffic, his cherry lights coming on and the siren screaming about as loudly as I wanted to right then. I could swear I saw him smiling in the rearview mirror as he escorted me to the church.

      “Oh, my God! Where in the hell have you been! We are never going to—what happened to your hair, Fallon?”

      “I, urn …” They all stood staring at me. Kelly’s toe was tapping the way it did when she was furious. “I had a flat and I had to change it and God! It was a mess.”

      It must’ve worked because they all rolled their eyes, threw up their hands and flew into action.

      How Kelly made my hair go from trailer trash struck by lightning to damn near royalty is beyond me. But I was going to roll with it. The hushed presence in the church had the charged intensity you can feel in a room packed full of people about to yell “surprise!” The anticipation was palpable.

      I’d done a quick cleanup in the bride’s “facilities” and was powdered, perfumed, groomed and gowned. It was now or never.

      Do or die.

      No turning back.

      The music cued and my stomach bottomed out. “Oh, God, I am going to pass out.”

      “Clench your ass! Clench your ass!” Tracy kept hissing in my ear. “It’s what the fighter pilots do!”

      But clenching my ass made me think of Officer Friendly and the frisking, and just as they threw open those big-ass doors to reveal the ivory-draped aisle, I got the giggles.

      “Oh, no. She’s freaking out. Good thing Jackson will think it’s cute.” Tracy blew out a sigh. Tapped my cheeks with the tips of her fingers, her version of a snap-out-of-it smack.

      “You guys are so gross, how icky and in love you are.” Kelly laughed. She nudged me and I stumbled forward a bit. Remembering the perfect feel of him. The feel of warm metal under my finger and—

      “Go!” Tina said.

      I went. I nodded and smiled and tried not to throw up. I kept my ass tense, no small feat when you are trying to walk gracefully to your betrothed.

      He stood there, smiling. That perfect sexy-as-hell smile. In full-dress uniform, just for me.

      In my mind, I was spread-eagle, facedown, being slipped and slid and used and—

      “Fallon?” Reverend Scott said.

      “Yes, here I am. Here I am,” I repeated, and turned to Jackson.

      Nervous? he mouthed.

      I nodded. He smiled, took my hand for a squeeze, and I ran my thumb over the dark brown teardrop-shaped birthmark above his thumb. I raised it to my lips and kissed it.

      In a few moments we would be man and wife. And then Jackson couldn’t call me “miss” or “ma’am” when he played his game with me and made me damn near insane with want. Then he’d have to call me “missus.”

      Or “wife.”

       Forever Hold Your Peace

      I.K. Velasco

      This was supposed to be the happiest day of my life. It many ways it was. But I often wondered if I would never be satisfied, if I would always want what I could not have.

      The mother of the bride, my sister—the maid of honor—and all eleven of my bridesmaids had finally left the small powder room to give me a moment of peace before the ceremony. The gentle rocking ocean waves and breezes outside the stylishly draped windows sounded like silence compared to the cacophony of a dozen women. I embraced the sound, burrowed under it as if it were down bedding, and allowed myself some refuge in the darkness behind my eyelids. I could feel the stress of the last few days ebb away with the tide.

      It was really the stress of the last eight months. Planning a wedding was like leading a war, and I often felt like a general, my flagstaff held high, barking orders to the troops. “Those hydrangeas aren’t quite the right shade of pink. You need to pick new ones. That fondant isn’t right at all! I said the color of raspberry, not Pepto Bismol! I don’t care if you’re falling out of your dress, that’s what duct tape is for.”

      And it was in many ways, but all I really wanted right this moment was to see him—my Jacob.

      I hadn’t seen him in thirty-six hours and the ache was palpable. I could taste it on my tongue, like an unquenched thirst, an unfulfilled craving. I knew it was only thirty minutes until I would be walking up the aisle, but I wanted to be with him right this moment, to share his space and breathe his air. I felt as if I would suffocate without him.

      The door clicked open without warning, but it didn’t startle me. I somehow knew it was him—my Jacob. He stepped up behind me and placed warm, familiar hands on my shoulders. Our eyes met in the mirror and he smiled a wide and goofy grin.

      “You can’t be in here!” I chided. “You’re not supposed to see me before the ceremony. It’s bad luck.”

      “Luck, schmuck.” He tugged on his collar, uncomfortably. I wasn’t used to seeing Jacob dressed in formal garb—white shirt, suit with no tie, charcoal gray, not black; since the wedding was at the beach, we’d wanted it to be more casual. The color darkened his eyes somehow—made them more gray than green, as they usually were. He looked devastatingly handsome. “Sixty percent of American marriages end in divorce. You’re going to be a statistic in T-minus twenty-three minutes.”

      I frowned. “Don’t say that.”

      Jacob squeezed my shoulders, his wry smile spreading. “Can’t help it. Jaded, I guess.”

      “Well, I won’t be a statistic. I’m very loyal. Nothing to worry about.” I crossed my arms and pouted.

      He laughed, reaching up to pinch my cheeks. “You know I love it when you pout! Plus those crossed arms are accentuating your voluptuous bosom.” He straightened up to his full height, peering down at the tightly wound corset of my dress.

      I feigned modesty, placing my palms over what I knew was ample, revealing cleavage. I’d chosen my dress precisely for that feature.

      “I hate that you’re seeing me when I’m not fully ready. I wanted you to see me later, on my father’s arm, walking down the aisle….”

      “See you when everyone else sees you? That hardly seems fair. I’m special, aren’t I? More special than those people out there? I should get the first peek.” Jacob reached up and lifted the layers of taffeta making up my train. He quickly found the lace between my legs, running his fingers along the edges.

      I gasped, pushing at his hands. “Hey! Don’t do that….”

      He backed away, frowning. “I’m sorry. I thought you would want to …” His eyes changed again, from gray to black.

      I reached for him, wrapped my arms around his waist and tucked my chin, pressing my forehead on his belly. “I didn’t mean to push you away. I’m just … It’s a big day. I want everything to be right. I’m nervous, excited.” I felt his soft lips on my hair. “I’m sorry. Yes, I want this to be perfect for you.” I leaned back and met his gaze. He bent down to kiss me, his mouth open and giving.

      There was a fleeting thought about Jacob’s kisses messing up my makeup, but that was soon forgotten when he lifted me out of the vanity chair, hands secure under all the taffeta and lace,