My Friend The Bride: A Lesbian Romance Read online

  MY FRIEND THE BRIDE

  A Novella

  Nicolette Dane

  Copyright © 2016 Nicolette Dane

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. All romantically involved characters within this book are consenting adults over the age of 18 and are not related by blood. All rights reserved.

  About The Author

  Nicolette Dane landed in Chicago after studying writing in New York City. She flitted in and out of various jobs until she decided to choose herself and commit to writing full-time. Nico most enjoys writing about young sapphic love. Her stories are realistic scenarios of blossoming lesbian romance and voyeuristic tales meant to give you a bit of a peep show into the lives of sensual and complicated young women. Be sure to check out Nico’s Amazon Author Profile for more lesbian romance!

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  An Excerpt From My Friend The Bride

  “Emma,” I said softly as she crept toward me. The smile she wore was happy, lusty, intoxicated. “What are you doing?” She looked so beautiful in her sleepwear, little pokey nipples showing through the thin fabric of her tank top, athletic and smooth stems of legs from the floor up to her striped cotton shorts.

  “Just one more time,” said Emma. “Before I’m married.”

  My heart rate skyrocketed and I felt the coolness of sweat on the small of my back. I knew very well what Emma was suggesting and in that moment I was so incredibly torn. Although I wanted dearly to touch her, to kiss her, to make love to her, I didn’t want to be complicit in her cheating. As my mind dwelled on Emma’s suggestion, she closed in on me and slid her hands around my waist.

  “What about Seth?” I murmured.

  “He doesn’t have to know,” said Emma simply, as if that was all it took.

  “Emma, I think you’re drunk,” I said. Emma pulled herself close into my body, gently grinding on me as we embraced. She was warm and inviting, her body thin but firm. I let my hands move around her backside and rest loosely on top of her butt.

  “A little,” she said. “But I’m too good at saying ‘no’ when totally sober. I’m much more inhibited and good. Really, I just want to say ‘yes’ and stop worrying about it for a little while.”

  And with that, Emma sweetly pressed her lips to my neck, kissing me, nuzzling her face against my skin, holding to me tightly. I couldn’t help but release a soft moan.

  “Why won’t you just admit that you’re a lesbian?” I said, my fingers sneaking into the back of her tank top and tracing over her flesh.

  “I’m not,” she said. “I just like you.”

  “You’re a lesbian,” I said. And with that, Emma ardently pressed her lips against mine, partly to shut me up but mostly to take our intimacy there in the cottage bedroom to the next level. I couldn’t stop myself, having held a romantic candle for my friend for a very long time, and I eagerly returned her kiss, the two of us standing there, arms wrapped around one another, tenderly kissing amid sounds of lusty wet lip smacks and gentle moans.

  “Mmm,” sighed Emma, pulling back from our kiss after a moment, slowly moving a stray tendril of hair out of her face with a slender finger. “Maybe I’m a little bit of a lesbian,” she admitted with a coy smile. “Just don’t… you know, question it anymore,” she said, trying to take my mind off of the realities. “It’s complicated.”

  Table of Contents

  My Friend The Bride

  An Excerpt From: Dormitory Dearest

  An Excerpt From: My Writing Professor

  You May Also Enjoy...

  Psst... Look Back Here

  MY FRIEND THE BRIDE

  *

  “HOW DO I look?” said Emma, grinning happily at me. I sat on her bed as she modeled the white lacy bra, panties, and stockings that she planned to wear under her wedding dress. The sun beamed brightly and warm into her hip Chicago loft condo, large windows on one wall gave us a great view of downtown. I felt a little uncomfortable in that moment as Emma modeled for me, her body long and slim and slender, her face pale and content, her dark brown hair shimmering in the light and tied up in a lazy bun with little tendrils falling down her face. I felt uncomfortable because I found her undeniably sexy, the lust for my best friend intensely building inside of me as I gazed upon her there in front of me in just her underwear, her stomach flat and her chest small and perky.

  I couldn’t answer her, only look. My eyes moved up and down her lissome body. Emma was straight out of a magazine. Skinny and fit, not unhealthily so mind you, but the kind of slim fitness that comes with eating right and adhering to a strict yoga schedule. My heart must have a missed a beat or two as I focused on Emma’s beauty because that moment just seemed to stand still.

  “Molly?” she asked, hands on her hips, smirking. “My eyes are up here,” said Emma, pointing teasingly to her lovely deep brown eyes.

  “Huh?” I said, coming out of my reverie and looking up to her. She shook her head at me, that smirk still gracing her face.

  “How do I look?” she reiterated. “Do you think Seth will totally cream his jeans when he sees me in this outfit?” She struck a little pose, bending her knee out, her long legs dressed in those opaque white stockings giving the faintest look at her skin underneath.

  “I mean—“ I said, almost stammering. “Yeah, you’re gorgeous.”

  “You’re not just saying that, right?” asked Emma with a hint of caution. “This stuff is all properly sexy yet somewhat conservative, yeah?” She turned for me and modeled the backside of her outfit, her cute little round butt filling out the white material of her panties perfectly, allowing the smallest peek at the bottoms of her cheeks. Her panties were lacy, fancy, expensive-looking. Frills adorned the waist and the leg holes.

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “Seth is going to love seeing you in that. But I think most guys are more concerned with what’s underneath.” And me too. I was also concerned with what was underneath Emma’s lingerie.

  “Right!” she said with a laugh. “I don’t expect to have this on too long after the wedding.” She giggled joyfully, just the thought of her impending wedding sending exuberance through her bones.

  Emma’s wedding to Seth was only two weeks away and pretty much all of our time spent together was dedicated to preparation. As Emma’s maid of honor, I had a lot of organizational responsibilities. I had planned the bachelorette party, which was scheduled for this upcoming weekend. Emma, the other bridesmaids, and I were heading to a cottage on Lake Michigan for a few days of sunbathing, relaxation, revelry, all the good stuff. I had rented us a house right on the lake in Saugatuck, a quant little resort town in southwest Michigan, and I know that Emma was totally pumped to go. She loved to lay on the beach.

  “Do you know what Seth is doing for his bachelor party?” I asked.

  “Don’t ask, don’t tell,” said Emma. “I told him they can do the stripper thing if they want, they can ogle and flirt and whatever, as long as he doesn’t do anything stupid,” she said. She raised her eyebrow and got a serious look on her face.

  “Stupid?” I said.

  “Cheat on me or anything like that,
” she said. “All that other fantasy stuff is fine, I’m cool, but he better be good.”

  “He is good,” I said. “He wouldn’t do anything like that. I don’t think he’s eager to screw anything up with you.”

  “I know,” said Emma with a grin. “But I just wanted to put the fear of God in him, let him know who’s boss.”

  “I’m sure he knows,” I teased, smiling, sticking my tongue at her. My mind was still focused on her skimpy lingerie, her smooth and supple body, her alluring figure. I really couldn’t help myself.

  Emma finished her modeling and walked over toward me, sitting next to me on the bed and began to roll one of her stockings down her legs. I watched intently as she did this, admiring her creamy, smooth, unblemished skin as it appeared from beneath the opaque fabric.

  “Here,” she said, tossing me the balled up stocking, before bending over once again and attending to the other leg. I fumbled a bit as I caught the stocking, setting it down next to me on the bed. Once Emma had removed the second stocking, she shimmied further up onto the bed and sat cross-legged, picking up the stocking she had thrown at me and held both of them, balled up, together in her lap. She sat there just a few feet away from me, smiling, wearing only her white bra and panties. “I’m really excited about our trip,” she said. “I’m hoping to get just a little extra glow from the sun.”

  “Just don’t burn,” I said. “Your skin is so fair and you don’t want to be peeling on your big day.”

  “Right!” she said with a laugh. “Oh! And we’re doing the spa the day before the wedding, right?”

  “Yep,” I said. “Just us, though, not the other girls.”

  “Definitely,” said Emma. “Just me and my maid of honor.” She beamed and reached out, grabbing my knee and giving it a squeeze. “Are you gonna bbbzzzppp?” she asked, moving a fist in an upwards motion near her lower half. “Get waxed with me?”

  “Sure,” I said. “Don’t want you to have to go it alone!”

  “Remember the first time we got waxed together?” Emma asked with a bright glow in her eyes. “Oh my God! We were so scared!”

  “I just was not ready to have that spa lady so close to my ass,” I said, shaking my head with a hint of embarrassment.

  “Not such a big deal now, though,” said Emma. “Like another day at the office.”

  “How would you know what a day at the office is like?” I grinned.

  “Hey!” she said with a laugh. “It’s just an expression.”

  “It’s like a day at the yoga studio,” I said in a spacey hippie voice. “Like, I do some asanas and then have a chia protein shake.”

  “Don’t knock my chia shake!” said Emma, tickled by my teasing of her, leaning forward and swatting me on the arm. “I swear by that drink.”

  “It aligns my chakras,” I mused in the same voice as before. Emma put on a totally fake annoyed face, her eyes aflame in happiness, and she quickly reached in, pushing her hand under the bottom of my t-shirt, and gave my side a pinch. “Hey!” I exclaimed, smacking at her hand, laughing. She knew my sides were the most ticklish part of me.

  “I’m gonna get you!” she called, giving me yet another pinch prompting me to smack her harder on the wrist. “Ow!”

  Emma then leapt at me from her sitting position, tackling me back onto her bed, wrestling with me. While I tried to fight her off, secretly I reveled in my mounting arousal as her near-nude body rubbed all over me. I let my hands slide around her bare middle, gliding my palms over the small of her back and holding onto it, our bodies jointly rolling over her summer-weight comforter, both of us giggling, both of us happy in this moment of play but for different reasons.

  “Molly!” she squealed as I pulled the back of her panties down over her butt, exposing her pale cheeks. “You’re asking for it!” Reaching back, Emma pulled her panties back up and adjusted them over her rear. “Better not stretch these out, they were $75!”

  “That’s all?” I said jokingly. “I’m a lawyer, Emma. I could fill your panty drawer with $75 panties!” I smiled devilishly and gave her a firm smack on her ass.

  “But I’m stronger than you,” she said determinedly, her hands threaded into mine, pushing me down onto the bed. Even though she was a slim girl, she was right — she was stronger than me. A lot of people don’t realize how strong committing yourself to something like yoga makes you. Emma had great control of her body.

  “All right, all right!” I said, squirming under her. “You’re stronger than me!” With that, Emma gave me a satisfied smile and sat upright, straddling me, lifting her arms up into the air to celebrate her victory.

  “I am the bride, after all,” she said with a smirk. Quickly lifting herself off me, Emma moved her long legs over and off the bed, standing up on the hardwood floor and straightening herself. She then reached her hand deftly behind her back and unhooked her bra, letting the white lacy fabric slide down her arms and reveal her chest, beautiful little breasts, each dotted with the cutest of little hardened nipple. I took a deep breath and stared at her from the bed, feeling a longing in my heart. I wished she still was still straddled on top of me.

  As Emma sashayed away from me her breasts hardly moved, but I could see her firm behind lightly bounce up and down as her fit legs pumped. She moved across her bedroom, a wide open space that was only partitioned from the main room by an installed drywall divider, and approached her chest of drawers. Quietly, intently, I focused on Emma. She opened up the top drawer and slipped her white bra into it. Next, she pushed her fingers into the frilly elastic of her white panties and shifted them down over her butt, sliding the material down her long, slender legs until she finally removed them from her feet.

  “You’re lucky they aren’t stretched out,” she said, giving the tensile panties a pull, her head turning over her shoulder to offer me a grin. Emma stood there completely naked, organizing her wedding lingerie into her drawer and fishing through to find a suitable replacement for the time being. She had the cutest little mole on her back, just above her butt, a mole that she had had for the entire life.

  I’d seen her totally naked before. Many times. And I relished it always.

  Pulling out a pair of pink and grey striped boyshorts, Emma gingerly slid them up her legs and positioned them over her middle. She then turned and smiled happily at me, obviously comfortable in our intimacy, still bare but for those fresh panties. I wanted to take a picture of her with my mind and make it the background image on the display of my waking life.

  “I want to show you the seating chart,” said Emma, sliding a thin t-shirt down over her head. “The binder’s in the other room. Let me get dressed and we’ll get back to business.” Her face glowed.

  *

  Emma and I approached the cottage amid the lightly crashing sound of waves, beautiful summer sun shining down on us, each with an overstuffed duffel bag in our hands and some nylon reusable grocery bags with various weekend supplies. The cottage was rustic but rehabbed, obviously a little pet project for some wealthy person, the log beams that lined the walls looking as though they were brand new. Dropping my duffel, I fumbled with the key and lock until it unlocked, the door creaking open and revealing a quaint little house for us to relax in for the weekend.

  “Wow!” said Emma, walking in first and looking around. She tossed her duffel to the floor and set her nylon bags on the kitchen counter. “This place is perfect!”

  “It’s even better than the pictures online,” I said, setting my nylon bags next to hers. “It’ll be a little cozy in here with all of us, but it should be comfortable enough!”

  “Totally!” exclaimed Emma. “When are the rest of the girls going to get here?”

  “Monika said she’d be here around two,” I said, thinking, kicking my duffel across the tiled floor absentmindedly. “Meg and Krista are coming together later after work, I think maybe around six.”

  “And what about Rachel?” Emma asked.

  “Not sure,” I said. “Probably the same, so
metime in the later afternoon.”

  “Thanks for taking the day off work to drive up with me early,” said Emma, leaping over and hugging me. I let my hand linger at the small of her back as we embraced.

  “Thank you for giving me a good excuse to cut out of work,” I said, inspiring both of us to laugh. “I think I was starting to go crosseyed this week from staring at my computer screen.”

  “The blue light’s not good for your eyes,” said Emma. She smiled teasingly.

  “Thanks yogi,” I said.

  “Namaste,” she said, bowing her head softly with a silly grin.

  “Let’s go check out the bedrooms,” I said, hefting up my duffel once again.

  “We gotta make sure to get the best one!” said Emma, beaming, pulling on my arm adoringly.

  After checking out the three bedrooms in the cottage, two beds set up in each, we picked the larger room that contained a queen-sized bed along with the standard full that all the other rooms had. Emma, of course, wanted the bigger bed as it was her weekend and I happily obliged. We tossed our bags at the foot of our beds and began to unpack.

  “I want to hit that beach so bad,” mused Emma, pulling some clothing out of her bag. “I’m already wearing my swimsuit under this.”

  “You want to go out before the other girls get here?” I said.

  “Uh, yeah,” she intoned. “I’m not missing any beach time. Their loss.” Emma then lifted her t-shirt over her head to reveal her pale blue bikini top, tossing her shirt down onto the bed. “Did we bring the sparkling water in from the car?”

  “It’s in the trunk,” I said.

  “I’ll go get it,” said Emma, smiling fondly at me and then slinking out of our shared bedroom.

  Once I got into my swimsuit, I left the bedroom and made my way back to the cottage kitchen where Emma stood, sipping sparkling water out of a can. She had a fruit tray open and she was picking strawberries off it, eating, taking a sip, and then eating again. Emma grinned at me with her mouth full as I approached and picked up a chunk of pineapple.