I spat him out, wiped my mouth on the robe, and opened the door with a smile that belonged to a bridesmaid.
"Button crisis," I said. "I'm fine."
Nora looked at my mouth a second too long. Evan was a flush and a belt, already in the hall like he had been checking a cufflink. She didn't ask. The dress was louder than a question. I buttoned her up with his taste still on my tongue and walked behind her in white that wasn't mine.
The ceremony was a blur of vows I had already broken. He kissed her. I held the bouquet. My cunt was still wet from the bathroom, swollen from my own fingers, and every time I shifted on the pew I felt it. No one could see it. That was the filth. He slid the ring onto her hand and I clenched around nothing, his c**k still a ghost on my tongue.
Reception. First dan
