17. Drake #2
It was my wedding night. A ghost wandered into my periphery, eyes glimmering as she observed the world outside our enclosure. I held my breath as the veil between sleep and waking, life and death, thinned between us. A threshold of restraint waned out of existence within that liminal silence.
Helen turned, half haloed in silver and half in gold.
A woman of duality; ruthless yet kind, warm but cold.
With her frame bathed in light, I sharply inhaled upon noticing her naked shape draped in her sheer night robe.
My gaze dripped over her, the soft honeyed curls spilling around her shoulder, the supple swell of her breasts, dusky pink nipple straining against her robe, the subtle movement of her ribs and stomach as she breathed heavy and deep, the flare of her hips, her long, slender legs.
An otherworldly beauty come to haunt me.
And maybe I was still sleeping, still dreaming, fantasizing.
Her hands went to the ribbon around her waist, untying her robe with deliberate slowness.
It was agony, the way my heart twisted, wrenching around my chest like a deranged beast. It was divine, watching with unashamed intent as the robe slipped from her shoulders and melted in a pool of unwanted lace.
Fucking hell. It didn’t matter if it was a dream.
Helen’s feet barely brushed the floor as she swept closer, stepping away from the window and in front of the fireplace. I sat upright, breath punching past my lips and empty whisky glass clattering from my lap to the floor as I rose to my feet.
I reached out, catching a lock of hair, and brushed it behind her shoulder. My finger trailed down in an extended touch, feeling and hearing the hitch of her breath. Her hand breached the shortening distance, palm landing on my stomach and sliding up my chest.
It was our wedding night. Whatever former rivalry kept us apart loosened its grip.
Our opposing families didn’t matter one iota, and the pain of our years apart softened into a dull ache.
The orbits we were once trapped in collided again.
And maybe there existed a plane of reality in the light of the moon and smoldering fire where we could dream.
My hand on her arm caught her fingers, entwining our grasp.
Then my free hand grasped her dainty hand on my chest, and her clear, brilliant eyes watched as I kissed her wrist, flicking my tongue over her fluttering pulse.
Tasting her led to wanting her, and I couldn’t help glancing up, eyes catching in the dark.
I moved closer, or maybe Helen did. It didn’t matter.
All I knew was that one moment I had hold of her hands and the next her arms curved over my shoulders, my palms dropped to her bare waist, thumbs rubbing circles in her smooth skin, and her face tipped up.
Her breath brushed against my lips and my chest clenched.
The air shifted, no longer cold, but unfathomably hot and thin.
Her breath was all I needed, all the air my lungs desired.
I whispered her name, and it sounded like a prayer.
She brushed her lips against mine, and I held onto the fraying leash of my discipline, waiting for her to take the lead in that wondrous fantasy.
We hung in that intangible dreamland, swayed by an unattainable equilibrium.
Until Helen pressed her lips fervently into my mouth.
She briefly pulled back with a gasp, and I stopped breathing.
We met again, lips crashing, breathing faster.
Her nails scratched over the back of my neck, and I grabbed her hips, pulling her bodily into me.
It was a frenzy, and it was a dream, and in that space, she was mine. And I was hers. Always, always hers.
Helen didn’t speak; she sighed. I didn’t speak; I groaned. Neither of us spoke, as it would fracture the charade that it was all a dream. Words would prove that the moment was real.
I growled my wants into her lips, carving my desire into her tongue, battling mine. Helen mewled her needs into my lungs, curving her delectable body harder into mine, practically squirming.
It was our wedding night. And we were star-crossed lovers, stumbling, floating, falling in the gravitational pull of one another.
Seeking bliss and comfort in the cover of dark.
All that smoldered between us ignited, sparked by kiss after kiss, roaming hands, and nipping teeth.
A tortured euphoria seized hold of me as I relished in the sweetness of her mouth.
She dropped a hand, brushing over my erection, straining against my sweats. A groan escaped me from the friction, but I didn’t want to break—not yet. I wanted her, all of her.
I dropped to my knees, admiring the trimmed thatch of curls above her glistening sex.
My mouth found her breast, kissing the swell before taking a pebbled nipple into my mouth.
Her whines increased, breathing fast as I sucked and nibbled and teased one breast, then the next.
I adored her. I adored her. I loved her.
Lowering, I pressed an open-mouthed kiss to her slit.
Her musky, sweet feminine arousal washed over me, drenched my tongue as I lapped at her.
Her taste alone was enough to create a spot of pre-cum, soaking my sweats.
She clenched around two fingers when I slipped into her.
Her hips rocked against my face, riding my mouth in the rhythm she needed.
I suckled her clit and stroked her inner walls, and she carded her nails through my hair.
It was our wedding night. And she came on my mouth and fingers with a gasped-out moan, shivering and walls fluttering so tight my slick knuckles knocked together.
Her knees faltered, and I caught her in my arms, bringing her to my level and laying her gently on the carpet in front of the fire.
Basking in a heavenly golden glow, she looked up at me with lust-glazed eyes.
I devoured the sight of her splayed out beneath me, hair spread out in a halo, soft breasts, tensing stomach and creamy thighs spread apart.
Her hands tugged at my clothes, and I tore them off and tossed them carelessly away.
I slotted myself between her parted legs, trembling between desire and restraint.
She lifted her knees on either side of my hips, urging me lower.
Bracing my elbows beside her head, our lips met again, and I pressed against her.
Pre-cum painted her skin before I lined up our hips and notched my straining tip at her soaked entrance.
Her hips lifted, and a strangled groan erupted from me as I slipped halfway inside of her.
She inhaled the sound, kissing me deeply with a moan of her own.
She was hot and tight and wet, gripping me like a vise. One small roll of her hips, her legs trapped my waist, and I slid deeper. The feel of her, heavenly and wonderful, threatened to send me off too soon.
I moved slowly, entering her and devoting myself to her pleasure.
Helen looked between us, watching where we joined.
Watched my cock glide into her, spread her open, watched as creamy arousal coated my cock as we joined.
The wicked curve of her lips made me burn, and her pulsing walls urged me deeper—faster.
In and out, a dance of bodies, of passion, of an untamable hunger.
We found a rhythm, a symphony of sighs measured in thrusts and the slick sounds of our coupling.
Dazed and blissed out, I admired her arching upward into me, relished her pert nipples rubbing my chest, her lips parting in dulcet gasps.
Each time she rocked up to meet my thrusts, we fell deeper into one another, racing to the edge of the same cliff until we were panting unspoken promises into one another’s lips.
It was our wedding night. And Helen crashed, clenching my cock as she came with a keening cry. Making her come was a fucking revelation, even in dreams.
The tight grip of her orgasm wrenched me over the ledge with her.
I came inside her, twitching my release into her eager cunt.
When I collapsed onto her, resting my head on her shoulder, my wife carded her hands through my hair, gradually catching her breath.
When I withdrew, we melted together, and I tugged a quilt from the couch to cover us.
Tangled in a heap of exploring hands and entwined legs, we fell into a light, satisfied sleep.
When the fire died and the first fingers of dawn breached the window, I woke up hard again.
Helen sighed and rolled onto me, throwing a leg over my hip because it was our wedding night, and we were still dreaming.
She was wet and deliciously responsive. Her hips lowered, and I slipped inside her, watching her hips sway and her luscious breasts bounce as she rode me to mutual completion.
Hours later, I stirred from the dream, cold and alone on the living room floor. It was no longer my wedding night; it was a new day. And I was dreadfully, painfully awake.