Someday You'll Be A Bride, Too

Kristen kicked off her heels the second they reached the living room. She tugged at her bridesmaid dress while Blossom stood half-hidden behind the doorframe. "You didn’t even go near the bouquet," Kristen said, sounding more curious than scolding. Blossom shifted on her bare feet. "I didn’t see the point." Pressed, she mumbled about the person she wanted already belonging to someone else—impossible, wrong, but her heart wouldn’t listen. Kristen’s eyebrows lifted. "Who?" Blossom’s answer hung in the air like heat. It was her. The mother-figure in the house who’d helped pick her mascara that morning. Silence rippled between them. Then the lace slipped from Kristen’s shoulders. She crossed the room, hands steady despite her pulse, and cupped Blossom’s face. Their mouths met—slow, exploratory, tongues tasting champagne and longing. Kristen peeled Blossom’s dress down inch by inch, tasting each patch of skin revealed. She sank onto the carpet, pulled Blossom with her, guided the girl’s trembling fingers inside her open thighs. "You’re certain?" Kristen whispered. Blossom answered by lowering her mouth to Kristen’s breast, sucking the nipple until it stood sharp. Kristen lay back, legs spread, letting her stepdaughter taste the wet heat she’d been denying them both. When Blossom’s tongue circled and flicked, Kristen’s hips lifted off the floor. She threaded fingers through Blossom’s dark curls, guiding pressure, matching the rhythm to her gasps. Soon they switched—Kristen on top, sliding two slick fingers deep while Blossom moaned against her ear. She rode those slender fingers until the girl’s climax clenched around them, then eased them out and offered her glistening digits to Blossom’s waiting tongue. Kristen straddled Blossom’s hips and lowered herself until their clits kissed. The slow, rolling grind took them both higher. Sweat shone on their skin; breaths turned ragged. When the crest crashed, Kristen clutched Blossom’s hips, riding the pulses until their bodies went slack, tangled in half-discarded lace. Afterward, Kristen traced lazy circles on Blossom’s sternum and whispered, "We’ll figure it out." Blossom only smiled, eyes closed, already drifting.