by Cynthia Dane
He took the flute from her before she was finished. Excuse me? Jasmine watched, in more fascination than frustration, as her husband took the drinks to the kitchen counter and returned with nothing less than fire in his eyes.
Oh my God. Here it comes.
Something gripped Jasmine’s gut, and it wasn’t her husband. It was a blip of anxiety, for most women’s knees begin to shake on their wedding night, whether they were virgins or so experienced with their new husbands that it felt like any other night. Except this wasn’t any other night. This was their wedding night. In some places, their marriage wasn’t considered valid until they had consummated it with sex.
“You know why I didn’t want you to change before we left the reception?” Ethan asked, drawing his knuckles down from her chin to her breasts. A sturdy bra and a little fashion tape had kept her in place all day, but Jasmine felt that crumbling now beneath her husband’s erotic touch. I’ve never had sex with my husband before. The more Jasmine built this moment up in her head, the more she shook, not that Ethan could probably feel it.
“N… no.”
That wandering hand rounded her waist and flicked the zipper in the back of the dress. Jasmine’s eyes closed, mouth opening as that knowing sound erupted in the air – the sound of her zipper coming undone. “I wanted to take you exactly as you were. The moment I saw you coming toward me at the ceremony, I thought two things. The first…” Jasmine’s zipper was all the way down, allowing Ethan’s fingertips to touch the small of her back, “…was that I was the luckiest man in the world to be marrying you. I may have chosen you Jasmine, but you chose me too. I know you wouldn’t have married me if you didn’t truly love me.”
A gasp left her lips as his hand snaked inside her dress and gripped the skin of her hip. “The second?”
“Ah…” Ethan brought her close. Even through that heavy skirt, Jasmine could still feel her husband’s erection growing in his trousers. “The second was that I couldn’t wait to get you out of this dress and make endless love to you.”
That should have sounded sweet. It did, to an extent, but Ethan was not a sweet guy. He was ferocious in the bedroom, the kind of man who took whatever he wanted – and he often wanted Jasmine. Now I know. Tonight will be intense. Jasmine welcomed either extreme on their wedding night. After all, as nice as it was to make slow and gentle love, it was also wonderful to be fucked senseless and taken to unspeakable heights. We’re only young once. We can save slow and gentle for our fiftieth anniversary.
“You should savor me, then,” Jasmine warned him. “You’re not going to see me in this dress again. Portraits aside.”
“I will savor every inch of you, my flower.” His lips pressed against her neck. “By the time I’m done taking this dress off you, you’ll be begging for me.”
Jasmine fell against his chest as his kisses and caresses intensified. “You’ll give yourself to me, right?”
“We’ll give ourselves to each other, my flower.”
She craned her head so they could kiss. At first it was easy. Then, Ethan being Ethan, it went from 0 to 60 without any warning.
When Jasmine imagined her wedding night, her mind jumped around so much that she knew it was impossible to gauge what their moods and energy levels would be. Knowing Ethan, however, he had probably saved up as much energy as possible so he could take his bride the moment he had the chance. This was the same man, after all, who wasted no time getting beneath Jasmine’s skirt on their first date. He would’ve fucked me in his office during our interview if he thought I’d let him. He’d never lied about knowing what he wanted.
How many brides over the centuries had been touched like this on their wedding night? Not just with sexual fervor, but with an intimate knowledge that rivaled most of the other couples they knew? Ethan had an untold amount of time to get to know every one of Jasmine’s most sensitive, most erogenous spots. He touched them all now, gently at first, and then with a rising need that said he wanted her now. Jasmine didn’t need his words to know that. She knew him like he knew her.
That’s why she unleashed the phrase that would take this experience to the next level.
“Do whatever you want to me, my husband. I’m yours.”
Everything but her lingerie and the choker around her throat came off. Her dress fell, pooling around her feet and revealing a strapless white bra and a short slip around her waist. Ethan removed the tiara and ruby barrette, tossing them onto the coffee table with little care. As soon as she was free from these constraints, Ethan fondled her with renewed need, shirking his suit jacket and letting it fall on top of Jasmine’s wedding dress.
“I’ve got something for you, my flower.” He snapped that in her ear as he unsnapped her bra and tossed it on the floor. Jasmine whimpered, not in fear, but in desire. Ethan would never hurt me. He would do everything to make sure that tonight is extra special. “I don’t doubt your love and lust for me, but it never hurts to get some help. I want you so needy that you come over and over again tonight.”
Tonight was a funny word. Plenty of setting sunshine remained in the penthouse. It would be dark within another hour. Jasmine would probably be spent – and begging for more – by then.
“Stay here.” Her husband said that as he wandered off, leaving her half naked in a sea of hand stitched Italian silk. “Ti amo.” It was as if he knew what he had created.
Ethan went into the bedroom, loosening his tie and rolling up his sleeves. Fuck me. Jasmine didn’t know what she meant by that. On one hand, she was eager to experience her wedding night, but on the other…
Ah, she should have suspected as much. Her nipples were already as hard as they could get on their own by the time Ethan returned, draping a diamond and silver nipple clamp set across her chest.
This was far from their first time playing around with nipple clamps, and it was a fitting implement to choose for their wedding night. Elegant, biting, and kinky. Jasmine didn’t want a flogger, per se, but she did want a hint of something more intense than the occasional slap on her ass and tug of her hair. Ethan went easy on the pinching, but it was enough – Jasmine winced, first in pain, and then in devotion as the clamps dangled from her chest. Ethan sank to his knees, removing the last of her lingerie. His hands encircled her legs as he kissed her outer thigh.
Jasmine was both shocked and comforted as his fingers rubbed her bare slit on his way back up on his feet. “You’re wet enough to take right here,” Ethan said. “But I don’t want to have my wife for the first time unless she’s at her wit’s end begging for me.”
“I want you, Ethan,” she said, ignoring the sharp pain in her breasts as she whipped around and tried to leap into his arms. “I’ll never want another man the way I want you. Please. Make me your wife.”
“Now, now…” Nevertheless, Ethan chuckled, combing his fingers through the strands of hair escaping her twist. “There’s plenty of time for that.”
Jasmine tried to sink to her knees. Ethan, however, kept her up, hands hooked beneath elbows and shoulders. I still feel him. She grabbed his cock through his trousers, marveling at how hard he could be already – and yet still so in control. Because I’m quickly losing it. Was this what he wanted? To have his new wife acting like a complete loon for him? That would certainly feed into his ego, which was probably already the size of the city after that wedding.
“Hold still.” Ethan put both hands on her shoulders, steadying her. “I want to look at you once more before I take you into the bedroom.”
Jasmine’s breath caught in her chest, her throat, her nostrils as Ethan drank her in, memorizing every curve, every inch of skin bestowed upon him. Her lines. Her sags and smudges in her makeup. Her silly face as he blew her clamped nipples.
She was in his arms again, being treated like a fragile princess as he whisked her away to their marital bed.
In the time he had been searching for the nipple clamps, Ethan had lit a few candles and drawn the first layer of sheer curtains across the window
, creating a romantic glow that even he could appreciate. Jasmine smiled to see it – and then had little time to appreciate it.
Ethan only had one plan for her that night. When he said he wanted her writhing and begging for him, Jasmine should have anticipated that heinous lube that supposedly made princesses anything but pure and kings so virile that they could take on five concubines at once. At first she wanted to protest, but then Ethan showed her the small dab he intended to use on her. It was nowhere near the amount they used the first time. Jasmine consented, but with the request that he make love to her without it first.
Her husband took her to the beginning of their relationship. He laid her down, kneeling between her legs and tenderly caressing her with his tongue.
Jasmine slipped into a subconscious world where it was only her and the man she now called her husband. My husband. What a strange thing to think and say. It would take some getting used to. Yet it felt so right, so honorable that she didn’t think twice when he asked her if she was ready. Yes, yes she was ready. Jasmine had been ready to give herself to the only man worthy enough to be her husband for so long.
That subconscious world expanded moments after the elixir touched her. It was enough to emblazon her with more than lust. She felt so beyond her own body, beyond the mind she called her own that all she could think about was Ethan. His lips against hers, her skin. His hair, as it disheveled between her fingers and then the pillow as he too let go. His breath, so hot and fervent that Jasmine yearned to feel it on every part of her. His strength, surging through her, through the bed, through the room. My pleasure is his pleasure. His vulnerable grunts that were one part commanding, two parts soft and yearning. His bridegroom clothes as they fell away from his body, first this button undone, then that zipper falling. He would be as naked as Jasmine soon enough, and she wanted to feel all of him, like he wanted to feel all of her.
By the time he entered her, Jasmine had completely lost her attachment to the words husband and marriage. They were all that mattered. They were one.
Yet somehow she registered that this was unlike ever before. Was it the lube he used on her, sparking her neurons and creating the writhing mess she shortly became? Or was it the sincerity of the moment?
Did it matter?
Ethan could never touch her enough. Whether he was on top of her, beneath her, behind her, beside her… as long as he was with her, sharing his life, his heart with her in the most carnal way possible, Jasmine could continue her search for contentment. She didn’t dare think she would find a new, burgeoning paradise emanating from mind and loin. Sure, the lube liked to make her think she would… and the more they made love, the more she became convinced that they would find it together. But it wasn’t necessary. It wasn’t the difference between marital bliss and something less.
“I love you,” he said a million times. A million wasn’t enough. Jasmine begged him to say it again, then again, then again. She begged him with her words and body alike, sometimes clawing at him, and other times deferring to his every movement. The more he said those wonderful words, the more she achieved ecstasy.
Jasmine didn’t come once. Or twice. Or thrice. From the moment Ethan first joined his body with hers, she was in a constant state of climax. Sometimes there was a minor lull that allowed her to catch her breath or further appreciate how easily he thrust in and out of her, but for the most part, Jasmine was a slave to the constant pleasure washing over her. Come with me, Ethan. She craved to feel him join her in the zenith of blissful consummation.
Yet the closer he came to spending himself with her, the more Ethan was able to hold back, to pull away from her and use his fingers, his tongue, anything that kept her coming but him saving himself. Jasmine learned to go along with it. As long as he touched her, made her wetter, left her brain in a lawless land where she was nothing but a lusty creature with an appetite for him… shit, it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter at all!
When Ethan sank back into her and pulled on her nipple clamps, however, she knew something big was going to happen. She could tell from the way the candlelight cast their shadows against the wall.
“I love you,” Ethan swore, smothering her against their bed as his hips rocked against hers. His cock buried deep within her, threatening to leave his mark before Jasmine had the chance to come again. “Be mine, forever.”
Her nails dug into his shoulder blades, thighs clamped tight against his hips. “I will!” she wailed, striving to meet his thrusts with her own. “I’m yours! Ethan!”
Her husband cried her name as well, driving into her, hard, as his first wave of orgasm crashed over them both. Jasmine came a final time as well, her hand squeezing the back of his neck, determined to siphon every last drop of his strength.
Ethan’s warmth burst deep within her body. Jasmine shuddered beneath his weight, riding an unprecedented high with him by her side.
No amount of dreaming could have prepared her for this moment: the moment they truly became husband and wife.
***
They lay, tangled together, one arm wrapped around Jasmine as both she and Ethan stared at the dark ceiling and took stock of all that had happened.
Since when? Since that morning. Since four months ago. Since they first met, what seemed a lifetime ago.
“We should go to sleep,” Ethan said, clearing his throat. It was the first time he spoke in nearly ten minutes. “We have a long flight tomorrow.”
He forgot to mention the part where he had bought a brand new Gulfstream as one of his wedding presents to his wife. After years of people harping on him to buy his own plane, he finally did it – and went all out. He still thought it was a surprise, but Amber accidentally left the invoice at the penthouse two weeks ago. Jasmine would still be able to muster up excitement, though, she was sure.
“We could go to sleep,” she began, turning in his grip. “Or we could stay like this for the rest of our lives.”
“I’ve been reliving the first time we met over and over for the past fifteen minutes.”
Where had that come from? “Please,” Jasmine said, snorting. “I doubt you even remember the first time you saw me. Honestly.”
“You might be surprised. I thought ‘There’s my future wife.’”
“You’re so full of shit!” Laughing, Jasmine rubbed her hand against his stomach, fingers venturing toward the hair growing between his legs. Wonder if I could get one more out of him… It wasn’t midnight yet. It was still the day of their wedding. Then I could feel more of him inside of me. Ethan had made sure there was no confusion over whether or not their marriage had been consummated. Not that anyone would come to inspect… they weren’t that kind of kinky couple. “I bet you don’t remember the first words you said to me.”
Ethan propped himself up and gazed down into her drowsy eyes. “Greetings,” he recited. “Thank you for taking the time to see me.” Before Jasmine could be too impressed, however, her husband continued, “I hope to see you for many, many more years.”
She didn’t say a word as she closed her eyes and submitted to more than her husband – she submitted to the universe, and the idea of happily ever afters. Sometimes Cinderella was more than a fairy-tale. She was real. She was here.
Epilogue
Sitting down in the doctor’s office was the first big break Ethan had in a week. After returning from his honeymoon in Hawaii and Europe, it was nonstop work, thanks to Adrienne announcing she was taking a sabbatical – and absconding with his personal assistant in the process. And some beta male named Pierre. I have no idea what’s going on in that department. I also don’t care, as long as they’re back to work when they say they’ll be. Ethan bit his tongue because, well, he did jet off for over two weeks to relax on beaches, go shopping, drink some of the best alcohol in the world, and spend an insubordinate amount of time making love to his wife.
Jasmine stirred in the seat beside him. While Ethan took the time to breathe and catch up with his brain, Jasmine was so on edge that the sl
ightest surprise would send her up like a rocket.
Yup. Still the luckiest man in the world. That thought crossed his mind every time he looked at his wife. Still felt funny calling her that, too. For years, Ethan never imagined calling any woman his wife. Occasionally he entertained the idea of a loveless business match, but that wouldn’t be until he was at least forty-five.
No more thinking about that now. Jasmine was it. If something unfortunate happened to either one of them, there would be no other wife. Ethan had made that promise on his wedding day, and he intended to keep it.
His phone buzzed. Jasmine jumped, her husband pulling out his phone and seeing a text message from Monica.
“Tell me you’re having a better day than I am.”
Ethan responded. “I’m sitting in a doctor’s office about to hear my possible fate. Could be worse. Could be a lot better. What’s wrong with you?”
The doctor entered before Ethan had the chance to see Monica’s next message.
“Mrs. Cole. Mr. Cole.” The old man sat down with a creak of the bones and a squeak of his chair. Ethan had seen many manila folders in his life, but they rarely meant good news at the doctor’s. “You’ll be happy to know that everything has come out clear. Mrs. Cole, as far as we can tell, you are perfectly healthy for a young woman your age. If you wanted to conceive, it shouldn’t be too difficult.”
“Uh huh.” Jasmine waved what she had already known away. “As for the… stuff?”
Ethan contained a laugh.
The doctor covered for him. “Yes, all of Mr. Cole’s samples are still available. We could commence with fertilization whenever you’re comfortable.”
“Phew. That’s great.” Jasmine leaped up, grabbing her purse off the floor and turning toward the office door. Ethan uncrossed his legs and attempted to follow her. The doctor sat at his desk, dumbfounded.
