Bridesmaid and the Beast

Copyright 2007 Marianne LaCroix
All rights reserved.

Chapter One

“Why do bridesmaid dresses always have to be hideous?” I stood at my closet mirror, looking at myself wearing a tangerine taffeta nightmare.

I was an official bridesmaid in Celia Thompson’s wedding extravaganza next weekend. Celia was a work colleague, and not exactly a good friend. However, she asked me to be in her wedding and being the sappy idiot that I am, I said yes. Little did I know she planned to use the occasion to embarrass every woman in the wedding party by picking out something in the color of a bright sorbet cocktail, complete with a froufrou poof skirt.

“It’s not that ugly,” Greg, my British hunk of burning love, said from the bed in his signature clipped accent. God, I love his accent.

“It is very ugly,” I retorted. “I hate tangerine. A black woman wearing electric tangerine is not a pretty sight. Let’s not even get into the white sparkly pantyhose or tangerine-dyed shoes I’m supposed to wear with it.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I have to wear a tangerine cummerbund and tie. Celia insisted the groomsmen matched the bridesmaids.”

I groaned. “She should let you guys wear black ties and cummerbunds, and the bridesmaids black velvet.”

He shrugged. “I’m not saying anything. Randy already said he hated the color and Celia broke down in tears, crying something about bridesmaids wearing black.”

Why couldn’t bridesmaids wear black again?

Oh yeah, bad luck. Pfft. As if Celia has bad luck. She is, after all, marrying Douglas Rhimes, Jr., attorney-at-law, a partner at Underwood, Brooks and Rhimes. He’s rich and she knows how to spend money. It was a match made in heaven.

Celia was a receptionist at the firm and I was a legal research technician—or glorified gopher—along with one of my best friends, Cameron Knightly. I’ve worked at the firm for about three years and I helped Cameron get a position there a year ago when she earned her paralegal certificate.

Oddly enough, I found out at the company Christmas party last year that my beloved Greg was an old friend of Doug, Randy Underwood and Nigel Brooks. In fact, Doug was a former company attorney for Greg’s animal pharmaceutical company before he left to join the firm as a full partner. Small world. Anyway, that’s how Greg, Cameron and I all ended up in the wedding party.

So now I’m out two hundred dollars on a dress I will wear only once. After the wedding I intend to burn it in sacrifice to all bridesmaids who’d ever suffered through the Ugly Bridesmaid Dress Syndrome.

“I personally don’t mind. I think tangerine makes your skin look dark and sexy.” Greg seemed determined to try to cheer me up.

I glanced at his reflection in the mirror. He was a god awaiting me in bed. I hit it good when I landed Greg last Halloween night, eight months ago. I didn’t know it at the time but the British hunk was much more than he seemed when I first spied him across the bar. I fell into his arms like an unsuspecting lamb to the big bad wolf.

Only he truly was a wolf—a werewolf.

Needless to say it scared the fucking living daylights out of me. But I fell in love with him regardless, and I was willing to try to live with the fact my boyfriend was not entirely human. Of course, he claimed I was the one woman who could calm his beast, but I admit—I like it when the beast comes out to play.

“I still don’t like this dress. The designer should be shot on sight. Tangerine should be an illegal fashion color.”

“Don’t blame the designer. Celia picked it out.”

I sighed and ran my fingers across the bodice. “You can see every little roll of extra flesh on my body in this. Nothing accentuates the fact that you’re…cushioned…like bright tangerine taffeta and a tulle-enhanced skirt.”

Greg growled low behind me. “I like those fleshy parts on you, Sophia. They are so feminine…and sexy. Your body drives me so crazy I want to fuck you over and over.”

“Even dressed in this?” I asked, turning to him.

My breath caught as he pulled back the sheet to reveal his perfect, naked body—and huge, throbbing erection. “Oh yeah.”

Did I mention he was perfect?

“You know, I kind of like the idea that you look like a sweet, delicious cocktail. I’m wondering if you taste as good as you look. Tell me, do you have panties on, naughty little bridesmaid?” he asked with a devilish smile.

I didn’t and he knew it.

And I wasn’t going to actually admit it—at least not vocally.

I moved over to the bed and looked down on his toned body, all muscle and sinew…and all mine.

“I think maybe you should find out.”

“Come here and fuck me.”

Oh man…I wanted to climb on up on top of that sexy cock and suck its pulsing length up inside me. Oh God yeah, that’s what I wanted. But I hesitated. I had on the dress I needed to wear next weekend. Ugly as it was, I needed it to be in one piece for the wedding.

“I should take off the dress—”

I moved to step away but Greg grabbed my hand with gentle power. “No, wear it,” he said in a low, husky voice.

He was turned on and seeing the look of sexual hunger in his eyes, along with a hint of the beast beneath the surface, I couldn’t deny him. I couldn’t. He needed me and I loved him for it.