by Gabi Moore
I pressed in another inch and relished what this did to her breath. She was pressed up so close to me I could feel every little ripple in her body, every little shiver and quake. I pushed in further, stretching into that gloriously snug little hole. When she opened her eyes and began kissing me hard again, I knew she was ready for more, and so I crammed in the rest, until our bellies touched flat against one another, and I had no more to give her.
Her weight was almost all off the counter now, and my forearms strained to hold her up high like that. I didn’t care though. I didn’t care if they caught fire or my legs fell off, there was nothing in the world that would tear my attention from that sweet little whimper coming from deep in her throat, and the way her hands grasped at my neck as she struggled on me, utterly impaled.
Her little toes scrabbled but didn’t quite reach the floor. Gravity pulled her down completely onto me. I didn’t thrust. I couldn’t. Instead, knotted into one another like that, I simply rolled my hips up and into her again and again, stroking myself against her soaking clit and drawing circles inside her with the base of my cock. This drove her wild. I could feel how excited it made her. How with every swirl she became softer and wetter inside, her knees knocking against the fabric of my trousers. She took my head in her hands and kissed me deeply. I responded with another deep, hard thrust directly up and into her, making her groan into my mouth. I gave her that same last inch again and again, faster and faster till I was completely soaked in her juices.
There were no props. Nowhere to go and nobody to be. Only her body, and mine, and this gorgeous magic we were making somehow, inside. Soon she was muttering quietly to herself, her eyes squeeze closed again. It was a string of dirty words, one after the other. But she spoke them like she wanted to get rid of them. Like they were trapped inside her and only now being dislodged with every pump of my hips. Like she was speaking in tongues.
“Fuck, Dean. That feels so fucking good. Fuck me. Oh my god, fuck. Give it all to me, like that, I fucking love it… fuck it just like that, oh god please don’t fucking stop,” she said so quickly it was hard to hear her at all.
Her entire body tightened as she seemed to be focusing on one sweet, faraway spot somewhere behind her closed eyelids. The words melted away and became nothing but a string of desperate animal sounds, with all the letters melting apart from one another, till she was grunting and growling in my arms. It was the hottest fucking thing in the world. I dutifully ground my fat cock up into, stroking her closer and closer to the thing she was so ravenous for, wanting nothing more than to have those animals sounds melt even more into one low, beautiful scream as she came.
“You’re beautiful, Nora. And I’m going to fuck you until you come hard all over my cock, do you understand? Just let go and let me feel you come, let me feel your little pussy come all over me, Nora,” I whispered hot in her ear. She moaned and swirled her hips desperately, drinking up every thrust, swallowing up my cock to the hilt.
“I’m… oh God I’m…” she started to whimper. Without stopping that delicious rhythm we had found with our hips, I grabbed her face between my hands and stared at her hard.
“Nora. Nora, listen to me. I want you to come now. Look at me and let me see you. Fucking look at me,” I said, and the sweetest expression of pleasure washed over her face as she tried to keep her eyes open and keep eye contact with me, despite the waves of bliss that were threatening to take her over. I held her firm and watched her eyebrows arch and twitch, her eyes nearly rolling back in her head.
“I’m so close,” she whispered.
“Fuck yes. Stay here with me Nora. Come on my cock. Can you come for me baby?” I said softly to her, and as I did, her mouth flew open and one massive, strong convulsion came bucking through her body. But I held her firm and wouldn’t let her go anywhere. She had nowhere to move, nowhere to go to escape the brutal wave of pleasure that was beating through her. Nowhere but in.
Holding my gaze, I watched as a long, slow moan escaped her lips and she melted into a deep, dirty shiver that brought her entire body into tight little goosebumps. I didn’t stop fucking. In fact, I kept stroking her through that peak, right past what she thought was her limit, and no sooner had she come down from that orgasm was she knotted up and ready to explode for the next. I was soaking wet. The air had left her lungs and she was shaking violently in my lap now, staring straight into my soul, hands clawing to my neck for dear life as yet another orgasm ripped through her. Her shuddering was pushing me closer to the edge.
“I fucking love it when you do that baby… I’m going to explode,” I gasped, and here she kissed me hard and took my tongue in her mouth, so that when my own orgasm broke, she swallowed up my moans. My hips bucked and twitched hard against her, and I felt my legs go weak. I don’t know how it happened – my head was spinning – but we were all of a sudden on the tiles, breathless, her lips all over me. I squeezed her ass hard as she flopped down on top of me, my cock still wedged deeply in her, then winced a little as I pulled out and felt that delicious slick ring kiss the tip of my cock as it released me. Whether from the sudden cold of the tiles or from the fact that I was still seeing stars, I shuddered deeply and kissed, finding her lips and trying to get my bearings.
“Jesus,” I said at last, my throat dry.
She was giggling softly. My hand went to stroke her hair but her head was already moving down to lick my cock, and the sensation of her tongue against my aching balls sent my mind reeling all over again. We lay there together and cooled down, becoming aware of the righteous mess we’d made on one another, and how everything smelt like sex now. I had no words. I simply let my fingers tangle themselves in a lock of her hair and tried to catch my breath.
“I’ll get us some water,” she eventually said, and stood up to walk towards the sink. Still on the floor, I tilted my head to watch her, and saw a slow, thick trickle of white slide from that dark cleft and down onto her thighs. She was dripping full of my cum. I had put a baby in her. By the time she returned with a glass of sweet cold water, I was painfully hard.
“Again,” I said, and she lifted her eyebrow at me.
Chapter 15
Get dressed. We have work to do.
Blusher. Lace. White silk.
Buff your nails until they glow pink.
You look good in white.
I know what I want you to wear.
A simple white sheath, a ceremonial gown fit for the marriage of a queen. I love seeing pearls on your neck, and things sparkling in your hair. I love you in small, tasteful shoes and a bouquet of flowers in your hands, held just so in front of your lap, concealing a bouquet behind it that is much, much sweeter.
Oh, it’s not all just dress-up. The clothes make the man, you see. Or in your case, the woman. Don’t be scared. I’m the only one watching. We’re the ones in charge. We can decide the rules for our game. And we can decide exactly how we’d like to break them…
“You’re not supposed to see the bride before the wedding you know,” she giggled.
“Well I’m not marrying everyone. I’m marrying you. So shush,” I said and circled round her once more, looking her up and down. “I like it now. But there’s still something missing,” I said and put my fingers to my chin and pretended to think deeply.
“Dean Cane, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were scheming something,” she said, a broad, easy grin on her face.
“Now now, you don’t want to know me too well, missy.” I reached into my suit pocket to pull out a red velvet box. She watched with warm eyes as I showed it to her and then opened the lid carefully.
“I thought we said no gifts,” she purred.
She was wearing a long, glossy tube of near-liquid silk that shone with a pearl-like glow at all the places it pooled and folded against her curves. She had on a simple pair of beaded shoes, and a ring of pink flowers crowning her, all in shades that complemented the pink-dipped tips of her hair. She wasn’t just beautiful. She was ethereal.
“It’s not a gift. It’s a promise,” I said.
Cheesy, I know. But what are weddings if not cheesy?
“Put it on for me,” I said and held it out to her. She examined it and then took it in her hands: it was a very narrow silver coil fastened in the front with a simple metal clasp, remotely resembling a dog collar but only just. At the clasp was a sealed lock with the tiniest opening for the tiniest key. It was dainty, even in her small hands.
“Wow. I don’t even know what to say, Dean…” she said and turned it over in her hands.
“You don’t have to say anything. Just wear it. For me.”
She turned her back to me and allowed me to cuff it around her slender neck. When she turned to face me again, I pulled out the key, tucked in a hidden compartment in the same box, and gently locked the collar around her neck. This, of course, was the real ceremony. I did it quickly and without fanfare. She knew what it meant. I knew. I didn’t want to cheapen the moment with words. I lay the key down and admired her again. It fit her snugly and showed off the elegant swooping lines of her neck. A good choice, if I did say so myself.
“It’s time,” she said, glancing at the clock behind me, then back at me again with sparkling eyes. I nodded. It was indeed time. I had known Nora for just under a year, but it had been a long, full year, and it well and truly was time to make this next leap. We had done crazy things together, crazy, stupid things, but now, this was something we were choosing, eyes wide open.
When we arrived at my mother’s old place, which had been miraculously converted to an outdoor arena ringed with flowers and ribbons, the sun was halfway to its apex and the air was shimmering with a kind of plastic summer heat, making the trees whine with cicadas. The mountains watched on, blue and hazy in the background, and the dust beneath our feet was as red as cinnamon. It was the same old rundown farm house as always, but now sprinkled liberally with pink and white, like a wedding had exploded somewhere above it and transformed the whole place into something from a strange dream. Even the chickens that scratched around between the guests had been given little paper frills around their necks, and seemed proud of them.
There were only a few guests. A few of Nora’s friends. Angelica and Maeve. My mother and a few relatives who’d traveled from out of state. And of course little Matilda, wearing a frock almost as gorgeous as her mother’s.
We pulled up and first saw the trellis tables spread out in two long rows under translucent white veils that wafted and flapped in the breeze. Flowers on the tables. On the chairs. There were flowers everywhere. We stepped out to some cheers and applause from the crowd who had assembled on the mess of carpets that had been thrown over the dust. I grabbed Nora’s hand and we walked over the festivities.
“My man!” Charlie said, and came forward to shake my hand warmly. “Didn’t know whether you’d be arriving on a white horse or in the back of a Dodge pickup!”
People gathered around us, all commenting on the unusualness of the wedding, on how beautiful Nora looked, on how beautiful the day felt. The crowd moved towards a little podium decked out in yet more flowers and soft underfoot with a worn Persian rug which only added to the dreaminess. My mother, an ordained minister, was marrying us, and did so with Matilda smiling and bouncing in her arms.
A tearful haze passed over me at some point and I couldn’t say quite what happened from the moment after we stood before our friends and I took Nora’s hands in mine. The world went white and quiet and the great rushing in my ears died down, my complete awareness folded into one thing: the sound of Nora’s voice as she spoke her vows. The words melted away, and I caught only pieces here and there. But I read and understood everything that was written on her face. In the same daze, I spoke my vows. I held her hands firmly and told her that no matter where our paths took us, or how, or why, that I was hers and that loving her was the only way I wanted to live the rest of my days on this earth.
I turned and faced the smiling crowd, eyes squinting in the sun and had this thought: this is wealth. Now I’m truly a successful man.
Nora had insisted on a tenor singing a stylized version of Nessun Dorma as we walked back down what could loosely be called the aisle. The song is from the opera Turandot, where a cruel princess promises to marry the man who can correctly answer her three riddles. When a mysterious stranger does, the cruel princess is distraught. He gives her one chance and tells her if she then can’t guess his name correctly before sunrise, then they will marry after all. She becomes frantic, and searches the kingdom, demanding to know the name of the stranger, even going so far as to say that the entire kingdom will be put to death if the answer is not forthcoming by morning. Nessun Dorma is the song the mysterious stranger sings as he waits for the sunrise. It means ‘none shall sleep’. Pretty morbid for a wedding, I had said. But she had laughed and replied that a pretty song was a pretty song, and she was right. Even a strange, ugly, twisted, difficult story like ours could be pretty in the end.
The rest of the day was a blur of laughing and drinking and eating. My mother and Nora had gone all out and planned a day that was truly unlike any other wedding. Out here, with only the mountains and fresh air to look on, it felt easy to let go of life for a while and just be happy, just surrender and dance in the sun. I used to think that life was a steep hill, one that needed to be climbed one painful step at a time, fighting off rivals on the same path and desperately clawing to every inch of elevation you managed to force yourself through. I used to think that success was a thing to fight hard for, and to win.
But I was wrong.
Life is indeed a hill, but the path goes downwards, down into strange, hidden valleys that just keep going deeper and deeper, and the way down is surrender to forces of gravity that are bigger than you, more powerful than you. I hadn’t earned Nora’s love. I hadn’t deserved it. And so it felt like …grace.
The best thing that happened to me happened despite my money, despite my connections and my last name, despite all the dark and selfish little parts of my heart and despite my stupid mistakes. I was a man with a rational, practical mind. I was a realist. And yet the things I had seen in Nora’s eyes had made me a believer. I didn’t know how any of it worked, I only knew that it was as good as a miracle, and I was going to do what I could to savor that magic for all it was worth.
The little children ran around and chased the chickens, and Matilda was passed from arm to arm, kissed a dozen times on the fine brown fuzz on her head. She shared her mother’s liquid, penetrating eyes and that same look of quiet defiance even though she was only a few months old. The feasting and merriment lasted well until the sky started to lose its blaze and cool off for the night, rolling in with a pale black sheet of stars and a moon that looked scooped straight from heaven itself. Nora wrapped a shawl round her pretty shoulders and lay with me quietly in a hammock strung between two whispering dogwoods.
A few of the guests were engaged in a heated, tipsy debate in the distance, lit dimly by some lanterns, and Angelica and the children were now finding amusement in the loose ribbons that hung from the trellises, like they were kittens who had temporarily taken the form of toddlers. Others were in the kitchen, laughing and drinking, and some had gone for strolls out into the darkening wilderness.
Nora was folded into her shawl and then into my arms, and we both stared up at the sky and let the adrenaline of the day fade slowly through us. For a long time I could think of nothing to say. What more could be added, when I had already spilled my guts to her earlier, and spoken everything that was in my heart?
“You know, I used to think of myself as quite adventurous. As a girl who would live this exciting, crazy life, different from everyone else’s,” she said, her breath turning slightly white in the cooling air. “And now look at me!” she added with a laugh.
“I have been,” I said. “All day. God, I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”
She nestled in closer to me, the patch where our bodies met warm against the encroaching night.
“Here? Today? There’s no reason I’d want that,” I said coldly.
“I feel like he’s here today anyway” she sighed.
I stroked her through the fabric of her shawl and stared back at the house with unfocused eyes, and at our wedding carrying on without us, still buzzing and warmed from the summer day, and the champagne and wine still nowhere near finished.
“Sometimes I worry he’s like a ghost that will haunt us. I mean, I even have his name now, you know? Nora Cane. It’s kind of creepy in a way,” she said quietly.
“Don’t say that. It’s my name.”
“I know it is… I just… I never want anything to come between us. Ever.”
“And nothing will. He’s in prison for at least nine more years,” I said and pressed my lips to her temple. “Do you have any idea how much I’m going to kiss you in nine years?”
“Uh… a lot?” she giggled.
“Bingo. A whole hell of a lot.”
“I can’t believe we’re doing this. Did it. Oh my god, Dean, did we just get married?”
“Looks like it.”
“So, how’s married life treating you?” she teased. I adjusted my weight in the hammock and delivered another soft kiss to her forehead.
“Well, ask me again after the wedding night is done, I hear the consummation is the best part.”
