by Amy Isan
I walked deliberately with my dad next to me, our feet matching our pace. I felt everyone’s eyes on me, and my face burned with self-consciousness.
Hugh was standing at the altar, looking perfectly groomed and somehow rugged in his tuxedo. Imagine that, a rugged man in a tuxedo. I broke into a wide smile when I saw him, his eyes a bit misty. We reached the end of the aisle, and the music stopped as I took my place in front of him.
My hands were shaking, so I squeezed my bouquet even harder to try and stave it off. My legs felt weak, and I felt light headed. Hugh and I watched each other, the only thing intruding on our personal rapture were the words of the pastor, leading us into our life together.
I’m ashamed to say I don’t remember many of the words, I was so locked in my mixed bliss and nerves. I glanced at him, and then heard Hugh say the words, “I do.”
I was asked if I would take Hugh as my husband, to care for and hold, until death parted us. I nodded excitedly, causing a gentle laughter to stir the audience.
“I do,” I said, ruffled by my impromptu joke. I smiled at Hugh, watching his eyes. He had his jaw set, and I could tell he was choking back his tears.
He took my hand and put the wedding band on it, locking it in place with my engagement ring. They snapped together with a click, which was surprising. I put his wedding band on his hand, a golden hue shined in it. As I gave him back his hand, I slipped the house key into it. He glanced at it and almost burst out laughing, raising his eyebrows as if it say, ‘Is this what I think it is?’
I nodded quickly, trying not to crack.
I gulped, and waited for that final moment as it hung in the air.
“I’m happy to announce to those seated here today, that these two now share a bond deeper than some can hope to achieve. Their lives are intertwined now, forever and ever, even after death parts them. I now proudly pronounce Mr. And Mrs. Evans, husband and wife. You may kiss the bride, Mr. Evans.”
Hugh’s hand cupped my face, and he leaned down to kiss me. Our lips locked in that moment of bliss, and it felt like eternity existed for those few moments. I clasped my hands around his neck and pulled him in, holding us there as long as possible. The audience cheered, and I heard my mom call my name. While I know it was loud now, it sounded like barely audible murmurs at the time. This was for Hugh and I, husband and wife.
***
The reception was beyond beyond words, with the sun glowing as it set over the orchard with swarthy music playing. I met Hugh’s extended family, his sister and her husband and kids, as well as some of Hugh’s uncles and aunts. While we had a small ceremony, the reception had a lot more guests. But that just made the party more exciting.
Hugh and I cut the cake and traded pieces, and got silly pictures taken of us. I still like pulling them out and looking at them.
When we had a quiet moment during dinner, Hugh asked me about the key.
“Is this the key to our house?”
I took another bite of cake, “It is.” I wiped a crumb off my face and laughed, covering my mouth. “The realtor showed up just as we were heading out the door. Can you believe the timing?”
He laughed with me, clearly as excited as I was.
I lowered my gaze and looked at him, “Can we stay there tonight?”
“For our first night together?” He seemed unsure.
His doubt raised mine, “I mean, we don’t have to. I just thought it’d be nice. I guess we don’t have a bed or anything ready.”
“I’m just saying,” he lowered his voice, and leaned in close to me. His breath caught my ear, sending a shiver up my neck. He rested his hand on my shoulder. “We can’t stay there without some blankets, pillows, and some firewood to keep us warm.”
He pulled away and I saw that mischievous look in his eyes. I pushed him with a playful shove. “That’s so perfect I could just marry you again.”
He held his hands out, “I try my best.”
As the reception started to wind down, Hugh and I stole off in his car to make it to the beach house. We stopped by the store for goods. At my insistence, I had him pick up food for breakfast. He kissed me, and told me he was the luckiest man alive.
Chapter 15
Hugh locked the door behind me when he came in. While we could hear the chirping of the crickets outside, there was hardly any sound at all once we were stowed away.
The gentle roar sound of the surf beating against the cliffs rumbled the house a little, giving an immediate sense of life to it.
We stashed our groceries in the fridge, and Hugh moved into the living room with his stack of wood.
While he got a gentle fire going, I grabbed the blankets and bundled them on the ground in front of the hearth so we could lay there.
“If you stoke that fire enough, maybe we won’t even have to wear any clothes,” I said.
His eyes were in deep concentration as he studied what he needed to do to get a fire going. He broke away to answer me, “I wasn’t planning on wearing clothes anyway.”
I gave him a sly look, and sat down next to him, watching him work. He was still wearing his tuxedo. I was glad it was his so I didn’t have to feel bad if I ripped it off him. I loved watching him work, his broad shoulders pulling his shirt taut at his back and bicep.
I pawed at him, trying to be a bit annoying.
Soon the fire crackled to life, the warm glow and heat helping dry out the house. The salt air left it feeling a bit moist, which was an odd sensation since I was so used to living inland. I hardly came near the sea, except for my brief stay with Hugh in his summer home.
When he was satisfied with the fire, he turned to me, looking pleased with himself.
“Looks great...” I breathed, moving in closer to him. He slipped his arm around me and held me close, which only made me more aroused. I shivered despite the warmth, and he squeezed me tighter.
“Hugh...” I whispered into his chest, clutching his shirt. “I’m so happy we’re here.”
He kissed my forehead, and stared into my eyes, transfixing me.
I gave him my heart there in front of the fireplace, pushing me over onto my back on the sheets. My feet were already blazing with heat from the fire, and I needed to be stripped down. His hands went to the enclosure at my side, keeping the dress up from my breast down to my hips.
He took his time, agonizingly undoing the button and slowly pulling the teeth of the zipper apart.
I felt my face warm, and my ears burn. My skin and bra were exposed to the chilled and warm air. He kissed my exposed skin, making me shiver further with anticipation.
“Cay,” he growled into my chest, his lips traveling across my skin with a skittering presence. I ran my fingers through his long hair, desperately wanting to tug at it, to force him upon me.
He slipped the top half of the gown down to my waist. I let it lie there as he moved further down my body. I tensed up at every pause, unsure of what he was going to do next.
My breathing grew shallow and quick.
“Easy... easy,” he whispered. The smell of the fire filled the room, that tender, warm smell. I closed my eyes and let him explore me, reveling in the excitement of every touch of his body against mine.
He stopped for a moment, and I heard his buttons come loose, the sound of clothing against skin. I peeked and saw his chest bare and rippled, his eyes set in an aggressive gaze.
“No peeking,” he scolded me gently.
I shut my eyes again and let him continue. He lifted my waist up and slackened my gown, pulling it off my body and throwing it aside. Nothing but my underwear and bra now, nothing stopping him from taking me.
I quivered as he ran his hands across my skin, a bit more eager now. His breathing wasn’t controlled any more, but starting to gain this animalistic pace. His hand rested on my chest, trying to calm my own breathing.
“Your heart is racing,” he said.
“I know. You’re teasing me.”
He didn’t answer, but instead he put his lips
on my chest. His hand unlatched my bra and let it fall from my chest. The mixture of cold air from a deeper part of the house and the smokey heat from the fire was exciting.
He kissed my chest, his hot breath fighting the chill. Then he took me in his mouth, and started sucking on my nipple. I couldn’t stop myself then, I squeezed his scalp, trying to control him, push him further on. I let out a small moan, which I could barely consider voluntary. He chuckled and let go, making sure my pleasure was slow, and agonizing.
“God, you’re beautiful. Mrs. Evans,” he said, “Everything about you. Your willpower, your drive.” I melted at the sound of his name attached to me.
I finished his sentence, “My body?”
He murmured in agreement. My eyes were still shut, so I was surprised to suddenly feel his warm lips on my stomach.
“Closer,” I moaned. He pretended not to hear, instead kissing my waist, my hips, my thighs.
He pinched my panties at the waist and slipped them off me. His mouth kissed between my thighs, leaving wet marks that the heat evaporated with a steaming touch.
“Hugh,” I groaned. “Please, you’re teasing me.”
He slipped under my legs, his shoulders balancing them perfectly. His quick breathing reached my wet lips, and I knew he was close. I could feel that tension, that anxiety.
He drew closer still, and left me there, hanging in limbo. I opened my eyes to watch him, and saw he was already staring right into me. Those blue eyes of his, piercing me. How could I ever forget that look in his eyes when he was hungry for me? That look that betrays his very soul?
He didn’t break eye contact, but lowered his head down to meet me, planting a kiss on my wet lips. I moaned at the intensity of it, his tongue lashing out and dancing between my folds, feeling like it was pounding my clit. I couldn’t stop, and I refused to let him.
I grabbed his head with both hands, holding on to tufts of his hair, digging him deep into me. His eyes still watched me, sizing me up, feeling me lash out and shake with every subtle touch of his lips.
He pushed his hands on my hips, holding me down. I pushed against him, bucking as my back begged to arch into him, make his mouth go as deep as possible. I cried out and writhed as he sucked and kissed; earning every ounce of sweat that dripped out of my body, every ounce of pleasure that formed a ball in my core. As I was turned sideways against the fire, half of me was aflame with warmth while the other was slightly chilled.
He moaned into me, his voice reverberating through my very being. I trembled at his command, at his every desire and wish.
He slipped my thighs off his shoulders and spread my legs open, letting me lay there in my euphoria for a few moments. I didn’t want to though, I wanted him to finish me.
I whined a little until I saw his hands move to his pants. He grinned as he undid them, pulling them off and making himself nearly as exposed and vulnerable as me. Nothing but his underwear separated us now. I could still see the outline of his cock right through it.
“Keep going, what are you doing?” I begged him, more confused than anything. He grinned, knowing how I felt. That agony of denial, that ecstasy of anticipation and waiting.
His manhood twitched, and he looked like he was in a bit of pain from it. I locked my ankles behind his ass, and pulled myself closer to him, bunching the blankets under me in the process.
He chuckled and pulled down his boxers, his cock eager and ready. The fire flickered off the glistening tip of it. He leaned over me, making sure the head grazed my folds. His hands were planted right above my shoulders, and his eyes were locked in mine. I reached down and guided him into me, my wet lips eagerly taking him in.
I gasped as his head glided in, then his shaft, then his body pressed against my pussy. He was all the way in, and there was no barrier between us. I didn’t care, this was our honeymoon, the night just for us.
Our bodies soared as one, and he held himself inside me for a minute or two. He groaned and I writhed, passion boiling to my surface.
“Take me, Mr. Evans,” I moaned.
With a deliberate slowness, he pulled out of me again, his head resting against my clit.
He pushed back, his cock knowing exactly where to go, dragging its wet head back down my lips and into me. He thrust into me all the way, making me shout in surprise. I felt a knot inside me coil like a snake, ready to strike. He pulled out and pushed another stroke into me, each one a bit quicker than the last.
I lifted my head and leaned into his ear, and whispered, “Take me, my love.”
A surprising vigor burst from him, and I finally felt the satisfaction I wanted. He pounded into me, his skin slapping against mine, his balls swinging against my ass. I moaned and cried out, curling my arms and legs around him every way I could. I squeezed him tight, holding him inside me as long as possible, making him fight to fuck me, fight to make me his. He thrashed against me, his own energy boiling over. My toes curled, and he grabbed my back and fell backward, pulling me on top of him.
With him on bottom on in more control. We clasped our hands together, our rings catching slightly, and locked our elbows as I grinded against his stomach, feeling his cock slide in and out of me as my clit grazed his rock-hard abs. I couldn’t believe the intensity. I lost balance, and fell on top of him, my breasts sticking to his chest, his breathing incredibly loud and incredibly fast in my ear. I moaned into him, almost screaming from it all. I had no reason to be quiet, it was just us in this big house, just husband and wife together.
The fire cackled and blazed as I rode him to the finish, focusing on my euphoric release. I was close, and I could tell he was just as close as me. I bared down on him, slamming his cock in and out of me without any regard for rhythm or timing.
He tensed up under me and curled his arms around my back, locking his wrists together and squeezing me down. I felt him twitch inside me, and that guttural cry of his climax pushed me over the edge, making my vision to grow blurry and my legs to shake with exhaustion.
I screamed his name as my body felt like it was rippling with hot warmth, my hands growing clammy and my pussy feeling like it was clenching him. He pulsed and twitched in me, his own gasps of air beginning to match mine.
I inhaled sharply, and relaxed my entire body, letting the afterglow burn out across me. I wiggled my toes as I waded through the euphoria, and my fingers ached from exertion.
His hair was matted and sweaty, his eyes glazed over. I kissed his forehead and tasted his salt.
“That was perfect,” I whispered. I rubbed my legs trying to stop them from cramping. He pulled out of me, and I moved down so I could curl my head on his sticky chest. The fire helped dry us out as we regained our composure. We’d be asleep in a matter of minutes.
That first night with my husband wouldn’t be one I’d ever forget.
Soon I’d be back in school, pursuing the degree I was passionate about. And he’d be leading the country with his courage to leap into the next big thing. Our future couldn’t be brighter.
The End
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About the Author
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