Epilogue #2
“Baby, no,” I murmur, rushing to gather her into my arms. “This is nothing more than what you deserve. I can’t tell you how fucking happy I am that I could do this for you.”
Her tears tickle my neck when she sniffs. “It’s perfect. All of my dreams come true. Just like I said.”
But I know that wasn’t one hundred percent accurate. Yet.
“Not all of them,” I husk, skimming my lips over her creamy shoulder. “I believe I saw mention of your husband making love to you on your wedding night on quite a few of those lists. Maybe even all of them.”
My sweet girl blushes, her cheek heating against my palm while I turn her face up to mine. “A-are you sure?” she asks. “You’re not too tired? You didn’t have too much to drink?”
I don’t tell her I’ve only had the mandatory sips required during toasts, to ensure she gets the wedding night she has always wanted. It isn’t important how I made all of this happen—only that I did. And I will for the rest of my life. For her.
“You are all I can think of,” I admit, skimming my lips over her temple. “All I want.”
Alice melts into me, whimpering while I take her mouth with mine. I start out slow, but my patience gets away from me within seconds as the stress of the day falls from my shoulders.
It’s done. We’re married.
She’s mine.
The soft, warm light gilds Alice’s light hair and bright eyes while I slowly peel her dress off her, revealing perfect naked skin underneath. I smile when I see that she still doesn’t have any panties on—a fact I discovered earlier when I went up her skirt to remove her garter.
The fact that we’re alone now doesn’t stop her from blushing just as fiercely as she did when I emerged and shot her a pointed smirk that said, Naughty girl.
She’d whispered that her dress had lining and cups sewn into it, to eliminate the need for undergarments. I’d whispered back that I could have used some warning to avoid getting a semi in the middle of my wedding reception.
Now, though, there is no reason to hide the way my blood pounds at the sight of her. Golden candlelight fills the dips and hollows of her form, turning her into a Renaissance painting of a shy, beautiful goddess.
What choice do I have but to go to my knees?
Marco’s dark eyes burn with devotion as he carefully slips off his tuxedo jacket and the shoes from my feet.
He helps me step out of my dress and drapes it over a nearby armchair, taking care to keep it away from the bowls of candles on the floor. His jacket and shirt follow, leaving him in his trousers while he stares up at me from his place on his knees.
His solid hands bracket my hips, grounding me, while I run my hands down his neck and shoulders, reveling in his hard heat. Even though it’s only been seven days, I’ve missed him so much.
Not just for his perfect body. I’ve missed the way he is looking at me right this second—as if I’m the answer to every question he’s ever known and every prayer he’s ever spoken.
His head falls forward, forehead pressing into my belly.
I no longer feel the urge to push him away when he expresses his love for that particular piece of me—the part so many others conditioned me to scorn.
Now, I let him glide his lips along the spot beneath my navel while his thumbs draw circles over my sides—and all I feel are tingles of pleasure while he shows me just how much he adores every piece of me.
Marco moves lower, trailing open-mouth kisses from one hip bone to the other, gently biting at the thin skin covering each until I’m molten and squirming.
His voice is smoke and velvet as his lips curve into a grin against the freshly waxed skin where my panties should be. “Did you miss me, Mrs. Amir?”
I nod, tightening my grip on his thick, glossy hair. “Y-yes.”
“Mm,” he rumbles, kissing lower. “How much?”
Instead of waiting for me to answer, he skims his brawny hand down my backside and dips to the cleft between my thighs, a groan vibrating out of him when he feels how wet I am.
I can’t help it, though. He looked devastating in his tuxedo. And the way he held me all night certainly didn’t help keep my pantiless, champagne-drinking self from getting all worked up during every slow dance.
“My good girl,” he praises. “So ready for me. So fucking sexy. So beautiful.”
Like he simply cannot wait another second, he slants his mouth over my pussy and licks from my slit to the aching bud pulsing under his lips.
We both cry out, my moan as shrill as his is deep.
He instantly clutches at my body, steely fingers steadying me while his shoulders nudge my knees further apart.
I thought we’d tried every which way for him to taste me, but this feels different.
Gravity is working with him, turning each clench of my inner muscles into a throbbing spasm.
It only takes a couple of minutes for the tender squeezes to spur me into grinding myself against his working tongue.
He hums his approval, sliding one hand up my thigh. His left hand.
He pulls back just long enough to meet my eyes while he flashes his solid gold wedding band at me. Before I take my next breath, he’s sucked my clit into his mouth and plunged the finger wearing his wedding ring into my aching core.
I come the second I realize what he’s done, locking down on his ring finger and moaning loud enough for the sound to carry out of the open balcony windows, over the ocean tides crashing onto the shore below us.
For once, I don’t care one bit. Especially when he immediately scoops me up and places me on the white silk sheets I just know he special-ordered.
He makes quick work of the rest of his clothes before sliding over me, resting between my parted thighs, and dropping his face to mine. I stroke down his back, urging him to push into me without waiting another second. He surges forward, gasping while my body seals around his straining cock.
Even though his whole body is taut with need, Marco turns his cheek into mine, nuzzling me like we have all the time in the world. A tremor moves through him.
“Is this everything you wanted?” he asks softly. “Everything you dreamed of?” I turn to catch his gaze, my heart aching at the tender love and hope deep in his warm brown eyes.
Tears rush over my cheeks while I cup his, pressing my mouth against him. “You’re more than I could have possibly dreamed.”
Marco deepens our kiss, locking us together and framing my head with his hands while he makes love to me. Until we both fall apart… and put each other back together again.
I should have known better than to hope that I might wake up before my husband and sneak into the bathroom undetected.
By the time I finish sweeping back my hairspray-fried curls and wiping the last bits of smudged wedding makeup off my face, I emerge to find him sitting at the little breakfast table on our balcony, already wearing a pair of black linen lounge pants and pouring two cups of tea.
He grins when he sees me approach, holding his arm out to indicate that I have no business taking a chair of my own.
I sit on his lap instead, turning to nestle into the bronze skin and dark hair covering his bare chest. He snuggles me close, expressing his love without a single word when he cradles my head in his palm and turns lax beneath me.
We stay that way, listening to the ocean, while the sun comes up. Eventually, he shifts and makes an odd request. “Sweet girl, would you mind grabbing the sugar on the other side of the table?”
I sit up, more from surprise than anything else—Marco never puts sugar in his tea. After shooting him an accusatory look, I stretch over, reach out my hand, and freeze.
My robe sleeve has pulled back, revealing an absolutely gorgeous white-gold bracelet. A simple braided design with enormous diamonds studding every nook. It’s classy and gorgeous and so extravagant, my heart skips three beats before I finally manage to breathe.
“Your honeymoon gift,” he murmurs. “I snuck it on while you were sleeping.”
“H-honeymoon gift?” I repeat. “W-what—”
My husband shrugs, as if every woman gets a breathtaking piece of jewelry standard-issued with their wedding license. “Just a little something. I almost gave it to you yesterday, but then I decided to wait and do all the gifts at one time.”
My mouth falls open. “All… all the gifts?”
A brusque nod. So very Marco. “Your wedding gift is here,” he says matter-of-factly, reaching his long arm over me and tapping a collection of envelopes fanned out in a half-circle beneath the teapot. At first glance, I thought they were napkins.
But he hands me one of the slim, blue packets, setting his chin on my shoulder as my shaking fingers rip it open.
Two airline tickets fall out, along with a booking for the honeymoon bungalow at an over-the-water resort in Tahiti. There are other papers, too. Catamaran cruise tickets, receipts for couples’ massages.
“You’re… changing our honeymoon?”
I try not to sound disappointed. He’s made our suite here so perfect, I don’t ever want to leave.
Thankfully, Marco laughs. “No, sweet girl. This is our next honeymoon.”
I am officially dumb again. “Our next—”
His broad smile melts what little is left of my brain. “You didn’t think I was going to make you choose just one out of your box, did you?”
He spreads his fingers over the other envelopes, pulling them toward us. I check the date on the papers in my lap, seeing that they’re bookings for next year, on our first anniversary.
“You didn’t,” I whisper, somewhere between horrified and swooning. “Marco, tell me you didn’t.”
“Book all your dream honeymoons? I had to. You had so many good ones in there, I couldn’t narrow it down. Paris, Cabo, the Amalfi Coast.”
He trails off after only pointing to three of the envelopes… which still leaves several. “But—but,” I stammer, practically shouting. “There’s no way we can do all of the trips I had in the box! There has to be, like—”
“Ten,” he supplies, nodding again.
And, sure enough, when I count the envelopes…
Ten dream honeymoons and ten envelopes.
Marco watches me finish the math before gently gripping my jaw in his enormous hand and turning my face to his. “I made vows yesterday, and I meant them,” he murmurs. “You’re my soulmate. The one I wished for every day of my entire life. Your hopes and dreams are mine. Now and forever.”
He catches my tears in his palm, running his nose along mine to comfort me. I lean closer, searching his face for any trace of strain or doubt. But all I find is my steady, solid husband.
“All of them?” I squeak, my eyes skirting back to the envelopes. Surely they all aren’t really booked…
My mind says that, but I already know—in my heart—that they really are. Because that is exactly the man I married. Decisive, honest, and giving. Solid, safe, and devoted.
My soulmate.
His quick, mind-blowing smile flashes as he draws me into his embrace, settling us both with our matching mugs of tea and turning us to face the horizon.
“We’re going for it all, sweet girl,” he says. “Because that’s what you deserve.”
Thank you for reading For Now!