Blake Garfield - Bridal shower

He was staring at her again, the way he had all morning, making her nervous. Donna was beginning to think that he wanted to make her squirm. If it wasn't for the fact that Tom Reynolds was her fiance's best friend, she would have confronted him with what he was doing.

Donna just wished he would stop staring at her. There was something in his long, lingering looks that made her more nervous than she could ever remember being. After all, she was Donna Anderson, the most beautiful and popular girl in her whole graduating class. She was supposed to make men nervous, not the other way around. Obviously this self-centered friend of her husband-to-be hadn't taken a good look at her yet.

Tom didn't seem nervous about her at all, though. If anything, there was something that seemed vaguely mocking about the way he looked at her and talked to her as though she were some kind of child. Her fiance, Ryan Irving, had told her Tom was one of the most successful young executives in the country, that they'd been friends since they were children, and that she should do her best to make a good impression. Donna had tried, but the truth was that she didn't like the tall, dark-eyed man.

Donna wasn't used to things not going well. Her father had been a reasonably successful businessman, so she'd always had enough money for the things she wanted, and, as she grew up, her good looks had opened any door she wanted to go through. People always liked her, and certainly no one made fun of her. Now this cold, smiling man was doing both, and Donna just didn't know what to do.

While Ryan was busy taking care of some last-minute details for the wedding tomorrow, Tom was supposed to take her to the shop that was doing her wedding dress. She'd had some problems with them earlier and Ryan had assured her that Tom could get them to do the job right for her.

Donna had already seen enough of Tom Reynolds to last her a lifetime. He was snide and superior, and he seemed to revel in his rudeness. His first words to her had been to complain about what he called the "fucking frumpy way" she dressed, and he'd been at her ever since, turning everything she said or did against her. She wished she didn't have to go to the dress shop with him.

Tom walked over to her from across the room where he'd been looking at some books. Donna almost cringed at his approach, because she knew it couldn't mean anything good. She was only five-foot-four and he was well over six feet tall, which didn't help the way she felt either. She looked down at the floor as he strode up to stand in front of her.

"Do you know what kind of woman you are?"

Donna looked up at him, startled, not even certain she had heard him correctly. What kind of woman was she? She felt certain that this was some new insult, but she didn't understand what it was supposed to mean.

"What kind of woman am I?" She was aware of a slight trembling in her voice, but she tried to overcome it. If there was one thing that men like Tom Reynolds understood, it was firmness. "I don't have the slightest idea what you're talking about, Tom. I know you're a good friend of Ryan's, but, honestly, you've acted very strangely since I've gotten here."

He moved a step closer to her, now only inches away, and he seemed to tower miles above her head. She tilted her head back to look up at him, still having a hard time meeting those gray, granite eyes. A shiver raced down her back, and she clenched her thighs tightly together.

"You're beautiful," he said.

His cultured voice had an edge that told of hard times and dirty places. That was the part of him Donna feared. He reached out and took a lock of her long blonde hair in his hand and rubbed it between his fingers.

"You've got all this pretty hair, a perfect face, a thin little figure with long legs and tits bigger than a girl your size should have."

Donna had been told she was beautiful before, but never in exactly that way. She felt another twinge shoot through her, and this time she was sure that he noticed her shudder. It was all she could do to keep herself from stepping back away from him.

What he said was true, though. Donna was a very beautiful woman, come into her nineteenth year, poised just on the edge of the soft-edged beauty of a girl and the more graceful, sophisticated beauty of a grown woman. She had the high cheeks of a model, bright-blue eyes and an aristocratic nose. Her throat was long and thin and the same flawless ivory color as the rest of her body.

Tom let loose of her hair and brought his right hand up to her silky cheek, brushing it softly. "You're a bitch. You've always gotten your way and you think you always will." Now he used his hand to brush her hair back over her shoulders, smiling at the look of outrage on her face. "You're a virgin who's always danced what you've got in front of the men but never put out."

His hand came down to rest on her shoulder, and he kneaded her flesh until she groaned.

Then she noticed that his left hand had moved, too. It was up at the waistband of her jeans, and before she could move, he had the button at the top unsnapped. He was trying to undress her. Ryan's best friend was trying to fuck her on the day before her wedding!

She jerked back away from him, her sudden movement surprising him enough that his right hand lost its grip on her shoulder. She stared at him angrily, her own hand moving to the button of her jeans.

"I'm going to tell Ryan what you tried to do to me," she quavered. "You're not his friend, you're not his friend at all, and he's going to know all about it!"

Tom crossed the distance between them so quickly, so effortlessly, that Donna didn't have a chance to react. He brushed her hands away from her zipper almost casually and he put his hand back on her shoulder exactly where it had been before. "You're the kind of woman who drives men up the fucking wall, and you're the kind of woman who once she gets started never stops." He pulled her zipper down.

"No!" she screamed. She had to stop this now. In a moment Tom would have her jeans skinned completely off her. She had to stop him now. "Let me go or I'm going to scream. I mean it, damn you!"

"Okay, bitch." His hand tightened to a painful claw on her shoulder. He grabbed her by the front of her jeans and hauled her toward him. "That just fucking does it."

Before she could resist, his hands dug into her expensive white knit top and tore it from her shoulders. With his other hand he pulled her jeans right down to her feet. In less time than she could register the fact, Tom had left her dressed in nothing but her bra and panties.

Now that he could see her body, the full, proud thrust of her nipples, the steep incut of her waist, the cup of her navel and the bulge of her cunt mound, Tom seemed to grow even more impatient. He grabbed Donna by the front of her bra and hauled her to him, making the straps cut painfully into her back and shoulders. He pressed his mouth down on hers, his mouth open and his tongue spearing out. When Donna tried to resist by keeping her mouth tightly shut, he simply used one hand to pry her jaws apart.

He kissed her deeply, his tongue spearing deep into her mouth, exploring her oral cavity. He slobbered all over her face, so much so that Donna knew he was just doing it to humiliate her further. And his hands were moving too, one pressing her to him on her small, tight ass-cheeks, the other circling her whole body and reaching to paw at her tits. He almost picked her up off the ground with his embrace.

"Like this, bitch," he moaned, bringing his mouth off hers to bite and lick at her face. "Just like this. Once you get a taste, you'll never be able to stop."

She was going to fight him to protect her honor. It was going to have to be now. Already he had her almost undressed and had touched her more intimately than Ryan ever had. Desperately she stomped down on his foot and jerked back away from him with every ounce of strength she possessed.