Chapter 22
COSIMO
I waited downstairs until I couldn’t hear the sound of Nettle’s footsteps anymore.
Only then did I trek up to my own bedroom, cursing myself for the fact that our rooms had a shared master bathroom between them.
When the architect had proposed it, I’d thought it was a decent enough layout for when I had a wife one day.
Now, the thought of walking in on her while she was showering or taking a bath or even brushing her goddamn teeth made me inexplicably irate. It was like dangling a juicy steak just out of reach of a starving man.
Fuck.
The kisses had nearly undone me. In retrospect, my celibacy over the last three years had been a terrible mistake. Maybe if I’d fucked another woman in that time, kissing my wife wouldn’t have made me ache with need.
But it was what she’d said to me in the car on the way home from the airstrip that had gotten to me more than anything. “You can trust me.”
Something in me longed to believe her, even if I knew that would be a mistake.
I stripped off my wedding suit, agitated and excruciatingly aware of her body curled up just two walls over from me. There was no way I was going to sleep tonight.
But the moment my head hit my pillow, mercifully, I passed right the fuck out.
That was where the mercy ended.
I didn’t sleep. I dreamt. The kinds of vivid dreams that feel more real than reality.
In the dream, I stood at the altar kissing Nettle in slow motion.
A pull on her bottom lip stretched to fill an hour.
A lick against her tongue lasted a month.
I spent a year exploring the inside of her mouth as if it were an undiscovered land filled with enchanting treasures.
When at last we pulled apart in the dream, I lived what felt like half a lifetime lost within her, not wanting to be found.
At that point, my confused consciousness blinked its eyes open inside the dream and put itself in the driver’s seat.
The kiss began again, but the time distortion ended.
I felt a sense of urgency, like I was existing on borrowed time.
I pulled her closer, desperate to memorize every last aspect of her taste before whatever unknown bad thing happened, but she fought against my grip and broke the kiss.
“Enough.” Her voice was strained, breathy. “Don’t you know you’re dreaming? Stop wasting time, you fool.”
I understood what she wanted then. The altar was just like I remembered, but the chapel was empty. It was just us.
She pulled me down to the step where the priest had stood and climbed onto my lap, her hands desperately tugging her wedding dress up to her waist. “I want you. I want you. I want you…” She chanted that as I unbuckled my belt, as I pulled out my painfully erect cock, as I dragged my fingers through the sopping wetness between her legs.
“Oh fuck,” I grunted as she grabbed me by the wrist and pushed my fingers inside of her.
“There,” she moaned as I pumped my digits in and out. “That’s where I want you.”
I grabbed her by the waist and rolled us over, putting her beneath me. My body was buzzing all over, the pleasure and pain of anticipation pulsating against the inside of my skin.
I tugged my fingers out, grabbed my cock, and pressed the head right up against her entrance. Her cunt pulled on me, as if an actual magnetic force was yanking me forward.
Without knowing why, I held my hips steady, fighting against it. “Christ.”
She moaned, her body writhing, her eyes hooded so that only a sliver of emerald remained. “Please.”
By now, the buzzing sensation had pooled low around the base of my cock. I knew that the moment I entered her, I’d find nirvana. I was a sinner, but with her, I’d catch a glimpse of the divine.
It’s a long way back down to hell. You sure you’ll make it? a voice asked, and it sounded like someone from the real world talking straight into my ear.
I woke up with a sharp gasp, my hands clutching at the sheets, my chest slick with sweat, and my cock weeping. Outside, the first rays of dawn cut through the darkness of the receding night.
I felt half crazed with want as I rolled onto my side and jerked myself off without even pausing to consider what I was doing.
Three rough pumps, and I was done. The angry veins of my cock pulsated as cum spilled all over my hand and dripped past my knuckles onto the sheet.
There was a second or two of incapacitating pleasure before I came crashing right back down.
“Jesus fucking Christ.”
I shot out of bed, unable to even look at the evidence of what I’d done.
I tore the sheet off, balled it up, and threw it into the laundry basket.
I marched through the bathroom over to the door that led into her room and locked it for good measure.
If she walked in on me while I showered right now, I’d probably fucking lose it.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” she’d ask, arching a perfect little brow at me.
“You are everything that’s wrong with me,” I’d have no choice but to answer.
I stood in the cold shower until the dream faded and I felt some semblance of my normal self. Then I got out, dried myself off, and decided I’d drown myself in work.
Anything to keep my mind off her.