31. Evelyn
Iwas married!
When I was very young, I’d been so excited for the prospect. The divine prophecy would tell me who I was soulmates with, and I would marry them and serve them and give them children. It was all laid out for me, an easy and clear path to follow.
Then I was told I’d marry Henry, and this pit of dread grew in me, changing the course of my destiny.
I followed the river down a different stream. I reached over the console, touching Laszlo’s knee, and he smiled at me.
The things he’d said in private to the officiant meant a lot to me. The thoughtful way he’d picked out a venue, the way his hands clammed up and his cheeks had a pleasant flush to them during the ceremony.
But it was the way he looked at me when I entered those doors that would always stay with me. His full lips had parted, his silver eyes flashing as he scanned my full body, a slow, genuine smile brightening his usually serious demeanour.
Buds were sprouting on the trees. All the rain had been good for them, and soon they’d bloom. It was as if the world was preparing for a fresh start at the same time as we were.
“What are you thinking about?” Laszlo asked, keeping his eyes on the road as he followed the now familiar route to our penthouse.
“Feels wrong that we spent so much on this dress for only a few minutes.”
“The sight of you walking down the aisle is going to last a lifetime for me, Lyn.”
I squeezed his knee, and he pet my hand, his thumb finding the torc bracelet he gave me. It was big on me, but because of how it was crafted, it could tighten around my wrist, the two snake heads resting next to each other.
“I’ll donate the dress. There’s a woman’s charity that accepts clothes downtown, and they make sure it goes to people with genuine need, not bargain hunters.”
“You already looked into it?”
He smirked. “Yea. I knew it would bother you.”
“Thank you, husband. You should keep your suit, though. It’s beautiful. I love the embroidery.”
“You’re welcome, wife. And I will.”
He pulled up under the penthouse, dealing with the security. There was music playing when he carried me over the threshold, balancing his keycard and the security codes with the hand behind my back. I clung to his neck, nerves beginning to sprout along my core.
Did he feel them too? He’d confessed to me his darkest secret, what he’d survived as a child. Was he as afraid as I was for our first time as man and wife? Did he ever get afraid?
A soft orchestral piece played and faded sunlight pierced through the livingroom. A blanket was tossed casually on the edge of the sofa. Signs of life scattered about, his rigorous asceticism fading with my presence.
He carried me up the stairs. There were red rose petals on the floor, creating a path towards the bed, and my heart pounded. When had he had time to prepare this?
A tendril of hair had escaped my braids, and he tucked it behind my ear. Heat rose in my cheeks, then the warmth ran lower, into my chest, and down further still. His masculine scent teased my nostrils, the rich fabric of his coat thick beneath my hand.
“I have never seen someone so beautiful in all my life. You really are an angel.”
I finally belonged to someone who actually wanted me. Who cared about me. Tears sprang to my eyes, escaped. He caught one on my cheek, kissing me there.
“Hey… Hey, what’s wrong?”
I sniffled, embarrassed at my emotions.
“Nothing’s wrong. This is the best day of my life,” I sobbed, and he wrapped me in his arms, his long limbs enveloping me. I was locked in the safety of his body as a tempest moved through me.
“Lyn.” My name was said as if it were divine, his voice tethering me to reality, guiding me back to him.
“I’m sorry. I’m happy, and relieved.”
“Relieved?”
“That we were brought together by fate.”
“I never believed in fate until I met you, angel.”
We kissed, his arms wrapped around me, holding me against his frame.
“If anything I do bothers you, if you want me to stop at any time, you say Python, okay?” he said.
“Python?”
“Mhm. That one word stops everything.”
He guided the zipper of my dress down. Half way, I said, “Python,” and he paused, taking a step back.
His eyes were wide, a frown on his lips that I immediately had to kiss away. “Sorry. I was testing.”
The corner of his lips twitched, and then he helped me out of the most expensive thing I’d ever wear, and set it aside.
I was left in the blue garter, my bracelet, and necklace, and nothing else.
His gaze traced my body, and I nervously shrank in on myself, fighting the urge to hide my tiny bust with my arm.
“Hey,” he said, seeming to sense my discomfort. His hand went to my forearm, his thumb caressing it. I bit down on my lower lip, trying not to let my insecurities into our nuptial bed. He guided my arm away from my chest, his fingers trailing the edge of my breasts.
“Lyn, your body is perfect. Your breasts are perfect. Your pink nipples, the way they reacted to the silk dress... I’ll never forget that, either,” he said with some gravel in his throat. “You never have to hide from me.”
The tension in my shoulders softened, and I gave him a nervous smile.
“I don’t ever want you to doubt how much I want you. How much I lust for your body,” he said, a strange hint of something else in his tone. Regret? Worry?
My brows furrowed again.
“What do you mean?”
Humiliation spun in his features, and I couldn’t decipher them.
“Since that night, I’ve not been able to relax enough to… get fully aroused.”
I glanced down his body, remembering the size of him, the way the other men had made such crass comments about it. Instead of repulsing me, that fact lit something inside. Perhaps there had been a fear in me, too. I ached for a week after that first time.
I met his gaze, chasing it as it darted away.
“You won’t hurt me. I’m yours now, and I know you’ll be careful with me.” And I would be careful with him. He’d confessed that he’d been hurt too, and I wanted to take things slow, and build trust between our bodies.
I considered the situation.
“If you want me to stop, say serebryanyye.”
Something so warm and intimate flickered in his eyes, his lower lip holding the sweetest little quiver. He nodded, and I kissed it, feeling a full body shiver pass through him. His hand traced over my sides, down my ribs, to the slope of my hip.
“Mine,” he murmured with absolute reverence.
I loved how that sounded, and my smile was beaming.
“Until death do us part. Can I undress you?”
“Yes, my wife.”
My fingers slipped one button after another through their holes until I could guide the jacket off his shoulders. He helped with the cornflower blue bowtie. He placed it aside on the trunk at the foot of his bed.
I removed his shirt, and for the first time, I could study the intricate tattoos on his torso. I tried to commit the ink to memory, my fingers touching his bare flesh and watching goosebumps of excitement travel up his arms.
He guided me into the canopy bed and pulled me into his chest. Sunset glowed behind us, bathing us in heavenly light. His fingers played with my blue garter, running under it, touching my thigh.
My heart pounded, picking up rhythm. He made me feel safe, allowed my arousal to grow. I looked down at his manhood, still large and proud, despite not yet being stiff. I swallowed, my fingers gliding down his torso, my naked body pressed to his side as I spooned into him.
It was exquisite, and I knew it couldn’t be sinful to touch my husband like this. He smelled so good and felt even better. My nipples tightened on my chest, my breathing shallow as heat built between my thighs.
“Is it okay if I touch?”
His voice was deeper, a pleasant gravel in the back of his throat. “Yes,” he begged me. “Touch me wherever you want. I’m all yours.”