Once Upon a Marriage

by Sara Daniel

  If she only had one chance, she didn’t want a one-way street. She wanted him to come with her, to fill her. “But I—”

  He skimmed his hands over the sheer lace cups of her bra, rubbing the mesh against her sensitive flesh. Her thoughts scattered. She arched her body to give him every bit of access, but he didn’t linger on her breasts, continuing lower until he caught the string sides of her panties with his index fingers, gliding them down her thighs, divesting her of the garments and baring her hot, wet opening.

  She scooted her body toward the center of the mattress. “Yes. Touch me.”

  Kneeling on the floor, he grasped her thighs and tugged her to the end of the bed again. “Put your feet on my shoulders if you need to.”

  “Oh God, Ian.” She’d never been so open and exposed, but she no longer cared about her vulnerable position, as long as he touched her.

  He kissed the inside of her thigh, heating her and driving her mad with desire. As he licked the juncture of her leg and her pussy, she surrendered to him, placing her feet on his shoulders and raising her hips.

  He kissed her molten center and then licked her again. Then slowly he sank his tongue inside her.

  “Yes, please. Oh, Ian.” She wanted to bottle the glorious sensations and stay in the moment forever. He pleasured her with his mouth, until she turned mindless, each touch better, deeper, and more intimate than the one before.

  She came apart against his mouth with explosive force, while he continued to love her. For a long moment, she couldn’t move. Then she slid down the side of the bed, dropping onto his lap. Her body still shuddering with aftershocks, she leaned her head against his chest, savoring the treasured feeling as he held her in his arms.

  When she finally gathered enough energy, she pressed her lips to his neck. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “You don’t need to say anything. We’re here together. Nothing else matters.”

  For a moment, she allowed herself to believe he spoke the absolute truth. Slowly, though, she became aware of the hardness of his erection pulsing through his clothes against her thigh. She pushed herself away from the comfort of his chest. “It’s my turn to take care of your needs.”

  He shook his head. “I’m not done with you yet.”

  “But I already came, and you—” She cupped his tented pants, wanting to bring him the same ecstasy he’d showered on her, terrified of how much more of a response he could draw from her.

  “I still want to touch you and pleasure you. I skipped over a lot of important places.” He skimmed his hands over her bustier and rested his palms against her bare ass.

  Her body flared to life, dissipating the sated feeling from moments ago. She could handle uncomplicated lust. “Okay, but you have to shed some layers first.”

  He planted a kiss on the tip of her nose. “I like the way you think.”

  Shifting in his arms, she worked his shirt out of the waistband of his pants then pulled it over his head, uncovering his broad shoulders and lean chest. “Swimming and running look good on you.”

  “Yeah? How good?”

  She rubbed the pad of her thumb over his flat nipple, gratified as he gasped. “Really good.”

  “You don’t just look good. You feel good, too.” He skated his thumb over her nipple through her lingerie.

  Although tempted to luxuriate in his touch, the need to see more of him propelled her to crawl off his lap. “You still have too many clothes on. I’m bare-assed. Your pants have to come off.”

  “And what a great ass it is.” He bent his head and swirled his tongue over her cheek.

  Heat invaded her core as she struggled to her feet. She didn’t have the will to stop him from touching and kissing her, but she had to get him on the same level of nakedness as her.

  “You’re right. We’re not going to do this on the floor.” He stood as well.

  She unbuttoned his fly and released the zipper. His erection bulged against his black boxer briefs, and she caressed her fingers over the cotton. “I want you inside me, filling me.”

  He groaned. “Soon.”

  “That better be a promise.”

  Squeezing her hand in wordless assurance, he walked her across the room to the full-length mirror. “Look at yourself.”

  “I don’t want to look at myself. I want to look at you.” Unfortunately, he stood behind her as she faced the mirror, her body blocking the view of the specific parts she wanted to ogle.

  He placed his hands on her shoulders, preventing her from turning toward him. “Watch the mirror. I want you to see your own pleasure when I bring you to orgasm.”

  “I’d rather—”

  The concentration and need on his face silenced her protests. He glided his hands over her body, caressing her breasts through the maddening undergarments which teased and titillated but couldn’t satisfy. Through the lace and the sheer mesh, he stroked and touched her, letting the flimsy material rub against her skin, heating her until she couldn’t stand more mindless teasing.

  “Please, take it off. I want just your skin against mine.”

  Brushing her hair to the side and kissing her neck again, he unhooked the bustier, freeing her breasts. Tossing the garment aside, he exposed her flesh, leaving her wearing nothing but the sparkling diamond necklace. His strong hands, pale in contrast to her skin, skimmed across her torso before he covered her breasts with his palms.

  She reached behind her and wrapped her arm around his neck, pulling him down and around her side as she arched her body and offered her breast to his mouth. He sucked her nipple in, then pulled away slowly, gliding his teeth over the hard and aching tip.

  Her body turned molten, need and desperation pulsing through her. As he drew her deeper into his mouth, she threw her head back, panting, stars dancing behind her closed eyes.

  Lifting his head, Ian straightened both their bodies, holding her squarely in front of him again. “Watch, please.”

  She moaned, her eyelids so heavy with lust she wanted to luxuriate in the dreamy, surreal sensation of his touch alone.

  Placing his hands on her navel, he spread his fingers and drifted lower, sifting through her pubic hair, and massaging over her clit.

  No longer able or wanting to look away, she willed his fingers to move faster. The concentration on his face as he gazed at her reflection proved even more arresting.

  He dipped his index finger inside her. “You’re wet already and ready for me.”

  “Yes.” She thrust her hips against his hand, desperate for him to reach the sweet spot inside and unravel her.

  He slid his finger slowly in and out, his hips rubbing hers from behind, his erection hard against her ass. Captivated by the intimate image in the mirror, she caught the rhythm and moved with him, thrusting against his finger and then into his heat against her ass until she became so weak with need she could barely stand.

  “Ian, please.” Reaching behind her, she grasped his hips with both hands to anchor herself.

  Gliding a second finger over her opening, he dipped inside, stretching her, doubling her pleasure.

  “Ian, Ian, Ian,” she chanted, as the flushed, desperate woman in the mirror stared at her and Ian locked his other arm around her waist to hold her upright. He caught her gaze in the reflection and thrust. She convulsed against his hand.

  Shattering with pleasure, she looked away from the intense combination of passion and adoration in his eyes to her own face. The woman in the reflection was caught in the throes of unimaginable pleasure. She was a woman lucky enough to be held by a man who could fulfill her in every way. She was a woman completely, irrevocably in love, who had never stopped loving.

  Armina turned her head away and closed her eyes, unable to bear what else she might see.

  ***

  Ian lay spread-eagle on the bed but kept his head raised so he could watch Armina kiss and lick her way down his body. She peeled off his boxer briefs, continuing to taste and tease him until his eyes crossed and his body turn
ed into the sexual equivalent of a lit fuse.

  “Please, I’ve waited too long for this. I need to come inside you.”

  Rolling a condom on him, she positioned herself above him. He grasped her hips, and she sank on top of him, taking him straight to the edge of bliss. He would not spoil the moment by coming the instant he entered her.

  Her slow, building rhythm allowed him to briefly retain his sanity, but soon he thrust hard to meet her. Her purely feminine smile assured him she knew exactly how close to the edge he rocketed.

  Damn it, he would not fly over it without her. Coming much too fast, he caressed her inner thighs and ass, helping her to meet him. Her breath hitched and her muscles squeezed, and Ian lost all control. He flipped her onto her back and pumped with a desperation that consumed him while she wrapped her legs around his waist and hugged him to her.

  “I’ve got you. You can let go. We’re together,” she promised.

  Pleasure slammed through him. He clung to her, absorbing her orgasmic convulsions as she held him. And still his body continued to shudder, leaving him so weak he didn’t think he’d ever be able to move again. He shifted his weight to the side while he still could, so he wouldn’t crush her.

  Armina turned on her side toward him, her eyes full of tears.

  Contentment morphed immediately to fear. “What is it? Did I hurt you?”

  She shook her head, but tears spilled down her cheeks. “Why couldn’t it have been this good when we were married?”

  His heart stopped, the pleasure in his body replaced with dread. “We are married.”

  Her sad smile cracked his chest. “You know what I mean.”

  He tried to swallow, but a massive lump in his throat blocked his attempt. He’d been so sure their night together would change everything, that she would see how much he still loved her, that they were meant to be together.

  He’d proved it to himself beyond a shadow of a doubt.

  Disentangling himself, he spun away from her, dangling his feet off the side of the bed. “Do you still want me to sign the divorce papers?”

  “That was the deal, Ian.” Her voice came out, small and vulnerable, behind him, but he couldn’t look at her. If he did, he’d never be able to leave.

  He stood, disposed of the condom, and yanked on his pants. “You’ll have them in your hand first thing in the morning.”

  Not bothering with shoes or his shirt, he strode out the door. He had to get away before he broke down.

  Chapter Seven

  Armina looked up from the paperwork on her desk as the three surgeons filed into her office. “Did you all get released from rehab with a clean bill of health?”

  “Oh yeah, the Inn fixed us up good,” Frank said, flexing the fingers of his prosthetic hand.

  “I’m glad to hear it.” She ought to ask more questions to follow up on Lenny’s consultation with the eye specialist and discuss the improvements Frank’s prosthetic model needed before they offered it for sale to the public. But she couldn’t speak. Any mention of the Inn flooded her with memories of Ian, and she simply couldn’t cope.

  “It doesn’t even feel like rehab when we go there,” Lenny said. “It’s like a vacation with really good food and a staff that’ll bring you everything you want—”

  “Except a good bourbon,” Frank cut in.

  “That reminds me. I owe you guys something.” She pulled three bottles of amber liquid from the bottom drawer of her desk, careful not to touch the divorce papers she’d stashed underneath. So far, she’d avoided her lawyer’s calls so she wouldn’t have to tell him the papers were signed. The thought of finalizing their relationship made her heart crack. She couldn’t bear to lose her final connection to Ian.

  “The Inn does lack a supply of good bourbon,” Lenny acknowledged, lifting one of the bottles in salute. “But everything else is swell, and the whoopee-cushion gags never get old. You should patch up your differences with Ian, Soldier, so we can go there more often.”

  Frank slapped him upside the head with his prosthetic hand. “Shut up, you moron.”

  “What? Don’t you want to hang out at the Inn for fun?”

  Armina smiled in spite of the tears blurring her vision. “Don’t hit him again, Frank. If you don’t break his head, you’ll likely to break your hand.”

  “I can’t believe he signed the papers. I thought you two would fall in l-o-ve,” Frank drew out the word, “and be inseparable for the rest of your lives.”

  She closed her eyes. His prediction had partially come true. She’d ended up head over heels for her ex-husband.

  “Soldier.” Uncle Ned spoke for the first time. “Don’t you have an appointment at the clinic this afternoon?”

  She shook her head. “I canceled it.”

  “What? Why?” He couldn’t have looked more shocked if she’d offered him a slice of bacon. “You’ve been planning for this baby for so long. You might not get another chance to make your dream come true.”

  “I know,” she whispered. “But I don’t want just any baby, anymore. I want a family with Ian.”

  “Does he know?”

  She shrugged, too shattered to pretend she could suck up her loss and move on. “It doesn’t matter. He already signed the papers.”

  Papers she had practically forced on him because she’d been so sure she wanted a different dream. He was her dream. He was her everything. And she’d left him.

  Twice.

  ***

  “Ian, the three surgeons have returned,” Cat called.

  His heart leaped, and he jumped out of his chair, sprinting from the office. He skidded to a stop in the lobby as the three old men turned to look at him. Just the three surgeons, not Armina. His heart sank to his toes, and his adrenaline dissipated in defeat.

  He inhaled deeply, trying to collect himself. “What can I do for you, gentlemen? I don’t believe you have a reservation.”

  “We’re not staying. We’re here to put a red cock on your roof,” Frank said.

  “A what?” The giant phallus that came to mind violated several city ordinances, not to mention the standard of appropriateness for his business.

  “A red rooster. It’s the symbol of fire. You’ve never heard of it?”

  “Of course, he’s never heard of it,” Lenny said. “Only people who are older than dirt have heard that expression.” He turned to Ian. “Translation: He wants to burn your Inn down.”

  “I might have a small problem with your proposed plan,” he managed to choke out. The men’s confusing conversation distracted him from his misery but didn’t help him regain his equilibrium.

  “We’re not going to burn the place down,” Ned said, leaning heavily on his cane. “But we have a serious problem with you breaking our Soldier’s heart.”

  “Breaking her heart?” He’d prefer they returned to talking about cocks and fire. She’d shattered him. She’d left him and destroyed him. She’d wanted the divorce, so he had done the only thing he could to show her how far he’d go for her.

  “The only thing that helped her get through the end of her marriage was knowing she would have a baby and could raise a family. But you ruined that dream,” Ned accused.

  “How did I ruin it? I gave her what she wanted, so she could have the family she yearned for.” He’d given up his dream of awaking next to her every morning, so she could be happy.

  “She canceled her appointment, against her doctor’s advice,” Ned said.

  “She had some excuse about her mind and heart not being ready for a baby right now,” Frank added.

  “I bet she’d be plenty ready for a baby if she could have yours,” Lenny said.

  Ian gulped, the image of Armina’s body swollen with their child filling his mind. Yes, he longed to experience the transformation with her, to hold her hand as she brought the baby into the world, to shoulder his half of the parenting responsibilities. “If you guys plan to stay, just tell Cat, and she’ll fix up rooms for you. I have to go.”

  �
�Where are you going?” Lenny demanded.

  “He’s going to see our Soldier, you damn fool. I told you our plan would work,” Frank gloated. “And that means you owe me a whole case of bourbon.”

  The three surgeons bickered and bantered among themselves, but Ian didn’t stick around to listen to them. He had only one goal, to convince Armina to make him an integral part of her family plans.

  ***

  Armina stepped out of the office, the wind buffeting her as she moved along the mostly deserted sidewalk, well lit despite the late hour. She’d found the habit of working late suited her better than moping around an empty house.

  With the divorce papers inside her bag, she planned to detour by the lawyer’s office and drop them in the night slot, in hopes the simple act she’d been avoiding would get her back on track. Her gynecologist had delivered a blunt wake-up call. If she no longer planned to attempt to get pregnant, she should schedule the hysterectomy procedure.

  So deep in thought, she nearly plowed into the apparently homeless storyteller sitting on the ground. She crouched in front of the gnomish little man. “Nicodemus, what are you doing out here?”

  “Waiting to see how my fairy tale ends, of course.” He stroked his long gray beard that seemed to twist in every direction. “We’re just about to the good part.”

  His gaze lingered behind her. Armina straightened and turned, fingering the diamonds at her throat. Ian jogged toward her from across the street, his hair almost golden in the streetlamps. She stared, her limbs solid weights, leaving her immobile. His gaze didn’t waver from her, even as cars honked and drivers shouted.

  Nicodemus began speaking in a lilting voice, drawing an immediate crowd despite the sparse pedestrian traffic. But she couldn’t focus on his words, not with the steady approach of the man who held her heart.

  Ian strode straight toward her and wrapped his arms around her, plastering his mouth to hers. She leaned in to him, crushing the soft fabric of his shirt in her fists as she held him. If only she could hold him tight enough that they’d never be separated again.