I’ve wanted to walk in God’s light my whole life. I’ve sought and prayed and waited forever to find light, and now—
“Stay with me,” my calling whispers, brushing her thumbs under my ears, lifting my head. Her chin quivers, and she fastens her eyes to mine with the most plea-filled promise. “Right here. You’re right here—”
The slightest gasp of breath proves her words, and her brows furrow with want to let her lids fall. My blessing is all inhale and arch and open. She’s all receive and hold, and it’s almost painful because all I am, here and now, is made of light, and it’s light’s purest nature to expand.
To stretch and turn, and warm all that it can.
To unobscure and make vivid, and fill with the first of all God’s miracles.
Keeping our bodies touching and pink knees pressed open, I rest my forehead against Lacie’s and let our eyes close. Meaning and purpose flicker from the back of my neck, down my spine, and I rock smoothly forward.
The little glow that gives me light sings as I rock back and forward again, deeper into her with slow force that feels every bit as righteous as it does good. I slide all the way along and dig more than within, rocking deeper into her like a sacred word kept and fulfilled, and she opens up with more softness than I can bear.
But He gives me strength, and I’m so grateful I feel my lips curve with each ordained movement, honored to give all of myself to this. The thought, as I rock, of all that I am, of what makes me me, of my soul itself pouring from me into light burns through my mind and into my blood, through my limbs and hips and fingertips, and I want that. I suddenly want it more than anything, to fill her and wrap her in this feeling.
Opening my eyes, I shift my right hand from her knee to His altar. Her leg slides around me in turn, and I steady my weight above her shoulder as I rock, not asking her eyes to open, just watching. Her eyes are closed in bliss so staggering she can’t even bring her lips together, and her cheeks and chest burn with the rhythm of blushing life. Beautifully curved breasts move each time I do, and rosary beads roll against her chest as I rock. She holds fast to my arms, and I can see it as clearly as I can feel her, clinging desperately all along where I’m moving inside her.
She’s so close.
“Love,” I whisper, telling and calling, needing.
She’s been denied this part of love for so long.
Ever since she left childhood, innocent and yet-untouched, she’s craved this. Curiosity grew into exigent exploration. Fingertips and imagination soothed her longing day in and out, and brought countless confessions to me. Shy looks among others became timid touches when we were alone in her room, and kisses amidst Latin lessons became urgently sought pressure between plaid cotton and black wool. She began skipping classes just to soothe and indulge love’s ache, bringing me more repentance that yearned for forgiveness and care, but no amount of pleasure Lacie found in her own touch or on my lap could ever compare to this relief.
We’ve both waited, patiently and impatiently for the fullness of His word, and little forgiven and always adored deserves to feel what rightfully belongs to her.
With as much force as I dare, I push deeper than Lacie’s ever felt.
It elicits a whimper, and her eyelids press tightly to bear.
Holding firmly to her hips with both hands, I pull back enough to miss the inviolate warmth of light before heavily bringing her back to me, and pushing completely within again.
Light’s pink lips open further and she tightens her fingers against my shoulders. Her sounds echo and climb higher, grateful for the immaculate mercy of being full and asking for more still, pleading to overflow with devotion she was built for, belongs to, and will never, ever lose.
Eyes on candle-gleaming skin, I guide her smoothly away and then back onto me with intentionally slow strokes. Dark lashes flutter and rise, barely not falling again as she arches with want to accommodate more. I smile over her, and held open legs tighten against my sides.
Lifted and held up for me, I keep her still and just rock, sliding barely out and deeper inside with every push. I watch and listen. I breathe roses and taste wine, and am too full of light to remain so nearly still. She’s too lush not to move passionately inside of, and I know she feels it, too. The little cries spilling from her are for more, not less, and as her lids fall, I know it’s in fervor, not hurt.
I breathe the scent of newly opened flowers deep into my chest as I grip tighter. Guiding her more than halfway away from my length, I hold my breath until she whimpers with missing, and I return her to myself with a quickness that pushes all the air from both of us.
Warm.
Warm.
So wholly warm, everywhere.
“Is it too much?” I ask while a hymn I’ve never heard love sing is still echoing around us.
I try to take another deep breath, but manage only shallow pants as I watch Lacie’s chest rise and fall in want for the same. Wrapped arms and helplessly wide-open legs shake around me while the place she’s warmest and so tightly softest trembles, too. Her eyes hold mine, but no words come.
I move through awaiting her answer, and I feel it.
She isn’t just trembling.
It’s more than that.
The throbbing all around me matches exactly what I’m filled with.
Her heart.
Surrounding and cradling me, swelled and pleading for me to come closer than close, to not stop, to not ever, ever, ever stop, her pulse pounds with abandon.
My knees dip weak for flying beats, and I groan, holding light down and digging my hips against her.
“Lacie,” I beckon, brushing my thumbs over her hips with all the patience I have. “Lacie …”
Dark lashes are wet as they lift for my voice, and more beloved to me than life looks up with need so bare, so vulnerable, so pure, I can’t help pushing to give her more.
Tears slide down pink cheeks, but needy fingers tighten their grip on my skin.
“Is it too much?” I ask again, barely above a whisper, struggling more than I want to admit to remain mostly still.
Breathing uneven, erratic little gasps, she hiccups as she tries to swallow. Filled-wide eyes wander from mine to the chapel ceiling, then all around us, searching as she tries to form words, and I know.
She doesn’t know.
“Ask for help,” I whisper, watching her blink and weep too-heavy heaven.
Her voice breaks around the sound she makes, filling the chapel, while overflowing eyes search high and low before returning to mine.
No longer seeking.
Found.
I sink deeply forward, and she lifts for it. She opens to meet me and love, and she calls his name so loudly.
“God—” she cries, the relief in her plea so visceral I know He’s with her, just as He is with me.
“There you are,” I whisper, smiling as she arches beneath me. Resplendent in her piety, she presses her little belly up to mine, and her skin is so soft there. I can feel praise fluttering with light’s pulse, and I want to bring it forth, from her lips to His ears and mine.
Bringing her with me as I start to really, sincerely move, I lean up and shift my weight enough to bring my right hand between us.
“Is this where they are?” I ask, laying my fingers below her bellybutton and pressing with my palm. “Is this where you keep your prayers, Lacie?”
Shallow breaths rush to staccato gasps, her lips unable to close around the fullness of completing love. Her lashes lift higher as I bring myself away, only to push deeper and deeper still, making her sing every tiny intake of air. Even as I move, glowing notes beg me closer and closer still, and line my backbone with strength to stand straight and give all.
“Let them out,” I whisper, enamored with the love written across tense eyelids and the way her whole body moves under mine as I press against her belly.
Praise-pitched breaths catch in her throat. For a second she’s silent, suspended almost, somewhere above me, closer to Him
than even I have ever been, and then God’s unfolding light tilts her head back and curves completely up against my form.
“Marc,” she gasps, her whole little frame tensing and shaking as she digs her fingers into my shoulder and clenches a handful of my hair. “God, God—”
I don’t stop moving.
I stay with her, right where she is.
And right before my eyes, under my hips and in my arms, holding onto me with everything, Lacie lets out the sweetest cry. She sings for the Maker of Heaven and Earth in His own language. All wonder and grace, she wraps me in prayers as the vessel that carries her soul accepts and honors love.
She comes, and it’s all I can do to keep from coming after.
Hot tears slide down hotter cheeks as I lean over her, taking the gift of her abundance onto my lips with grateful reverence. Warmer, softer, impossibly more blissful to move inside of, light that soaks tightly clings to me as I slip under the weight of instinct and fall blindly into the need to truly fulfill her.
Hardly finished flourishing for the first time this way, precious and praying winces as I move helplessly harder. Her left hand joins her right in my hair, struggling for the effort to give me more of herself, and my backbone burns like a candle flame under God’s thumb: hopeful, deliberate, and unwavering.
Gripping at my roots as I revel, wholly surrendered, Lacie brings her parted lips to my cheek, and I hear her softly talking to God the way all angels do.
“Holy, holy, holy Lord,” she whispers, her pace quick with movements and her breath like petals against my skin. “God of power and might. Heaven and Earth are full of your glory. Hosanna, hosanna—”
Devotion breaks into a keen that I endear to with every part of myself.
“God, God,” my love cries, crimson pink from her temples to the tips of her breasts.
Pressing down with my palm, I push deeper under God’s will, and turn little light into an intuitive hymn.
Timeless.
Ageless.
Most sacred.
She slips more tears that reach her upturned lips before I can, and holds my awe in her eyes as He cleaves us completely together.
We’re on the altar still, but we’re not.
We’re so much higher.
Dark eyes that can’t stop leaking search mine as I tilt closer, pressing hips that can’t stop moving all the way to hers. I rock into and against her, and the faith she looks up at me with makes my heart pound so fast, so hard, I feel its rhythm in every muscle.
Even as I move, even as pure elation streams through her in decadent waves with every push of His will through my hips, Lacie gives me truth she can’t contain with her eyes.
And with it, all her trust.
Little light that loves to be touched can’t stop.
She needs to keep coming.
Right here.
Just like this.
Divinity strengthens my sinews tightly against bones that ache to be ever closer to Heaven’s heart. My legs shake as they steady, and I pour my weight through love, making her breath, blood, and whole body strain to accommodate all that we are together. It’s tremendous and dire in this girl, but His table offers solid support beneath us.
She adjusts her grip to hold me better, and my spine floods with light. Wild pleasure takes worldly composure more and more apart with each stroke. Every beat of my heart feels like escaping sublunary limits and entering eternity. Every breath feels like spreading wings, like growing.
Like becoming.
Tangled tendrils of brindled brown hair sway with our movements, twisting around Lacie’s face as her transcendent cry-sighs melt like starlit snowflakes into my skin each time I fill her. With her mouth open and aching as a new flower, she holds fast to me as I embed love where she needs it the very most. Her cheeks blush darker while her softest, smallest muscles flutter sweetly against my work, and the spark of creation kindles low in my body. Pure, generous, and urgent, I need to love her. I need to come inside her. I need to give her this part of myself I’ve never, ever shared.
A lush little plea permeates my consciousness, echoing not only in my eardrums, but everywhere Lacie holds me. I hear her under my skin, deeper than veins, and the feeling like spreading and growing and becoming intensifies beyond what I can comprehend. Discipline and direction, patience and endurance that make me not only a man of God, but a man of love—her man—fall completely away. Limitation and restraint fade, and I move with the boundless, unconquerable might that is infinite love.
“Implica me,” I hear myself whisper for her to hold on between breaths. “Implica me, minutissimi, carissima puella mea …”
Hold onto me, littlest and most precious.
Frantic arms and legs tighten around my neck and hips so formidably that it feels like gravity has left us, and there is only my weight under God’s thumb keeping His glow beneath me.
“Oro, Father, oro …” she whimpers, light but unmeekly needful into my neck.
I pray, Father, I pray …
Her voice trembles, bearing out the sounds of grateful need. “Solacium Dei, please, please, please—”
God’s comfort, she asks for and calls me in Latin I’ve never taught her, lighting me up with warmth that floods from under my lungs, into every rib and the spaces between them, and down, into my hips. Her obedient plea for His solace through my frame makes my heart pound with fierce abandon, each pulse racing to answer her.
The paired spark in the deepest part of love draws diligent rhythm from my momentum and a heavy groan from my chest. I slide my hands to hips that were made for me to hold, pushing through my own need to come to help Lacie.
She shakes like the earth for the sound of His voice.
“Come,” I whisper, leaning down and covering her with myself, kissing the shell of her ear with breaths that match her own—too deep to hold. “Come here, carissima. Right here. Come right here, baby.”
Every bit as out of control as I’ve found myself, she grips and pushes at my weighted shoulders.
“Come, love. Come here.”
And my adored, my proof of God, my wife, trembles and tilts and dips through coming apart, and as I move love through every swell, I feel like His banner over her.
Like driftwood, I ride the current, unable to stop or slow through tensing waves and rushing heartbeats that push His kingdom all through her.
Like light, she pours over me, warm and luminous and touching everything, everywhere.
Lit and blissfully lost, I brush my nose along hers, beckoning her lids open. With her forehead under mine and her lashes barely lifted, she gives me her eyes.
I’ve never seen them so dark, and I can’t remember them ever shining so brightly.
I watch them as I move, tireless in the pace we’ve uncovered. Her lids lilt and lift the tiniest bit with every stroke I give, and her pupils are full with all they can accommodate, but I see them straining to open more.
I can’t help the feeling of pride that surges through me any more than I can help bearing down in effort to share that surge with her.
With her heart rushing toward mine and her eyes beautifully bare, love that’s always been mine comes again, effortless, copious, and desperate.
“Mmm—Marc. Marcus,” she hiccups, her worn thin little voice like a poem in my ears.
I want to always make her this kind of breathless.
I never want to stop helping her arch into this perfect welcome into His promise.
“Lacie,” I whisper, assuring and endearing, revering and glorifying her entire being with all of mine. “My Lacie.”
With longing to restrain love into easy strokes that speak of patience, I shift and rest my forehead against her sternum. My hips are helpless though, lost in consecrated cadence and striving with the need to wear gentleness. The most treasured heart ever created beats under my parted lips, and I dig as deeply as I can to harness lifelong hunger.
But I can’t.
I wish as I move that I could ease my gr
ip and my rhythm, and at the same time, I don’t want to ever be any further from her than this.
Barely able to breathe, I swallow as I push deeper into light.
She gives as she takes, and I’ve never loved her more than this moment.
And I will never, ever love her less.
My lips find hers, and we kiss as we cling like ivy and flow like the tide. We breathe together, and I brush my lips from her red right cheek to her blushed pink neck. I kiss the chin she split when she fell off her bike when she was ten, and I kiss the corner of her jaw so close to her ear because I know it’s her favorite place to be kissed.
I kiss over and under and all around rosary beads I laid on her.
I kiss the curves and tips of her breasts, and the sacred place between them where her heart pulses so deeply, I can’t help closing my eyes in prayer.
Thank you, I tell Him while my soul’s whole body hums around me.
Thank you so much.
“Ah, ah …”
Precious, pleading sounds surround me, bringing me into salvation with my eyes closed but my spirit wholly open. With my head on her chest, wrapped up in her pulse, all I can do is move.
Little light of my world slips stripped, salient notes for every undone push I give, and it’s so sensual, so pleasing to me on every level it’s almost unbearable. My feet falter like I’ve missed a step, like I’m going to fall, and when I grip her hips tighter, struggling to hold on, Lacie coos shamelessly.
Unbound under His thumb, I give her more.
I want to enshrine myself in this blessing and hallow my soul in this sacrament.
I want to live and die and reside forever in heartbeats wrapped in the most intimate song I’ve ever heard.
Fastening delicate hips down to the altar, I give into cries that call me closer. There’s no part of who I am that doesn’t light up as she comes this time, and she holds me more securely than anything ever has as I continue moving through new waves of blessed pleasure.
Light and Wine Page 7
