35. Sunday, December 9, 2012
SUNDAY, DECEMBER 9, 2012
T he second Sunday of December dawned clear and cold, at least by San Francisco standards. It was a good thing, then, that Julia had found a floor-length, crocheted-silk wedding dress with long sleeves. She didn’t have time to make her own.
Of course, its flirty, low-slung back – a detail Julia had searched for, especially for William’s enjoyment – canceled out any warmth the dress otherwise afforded.
Marisa had allowed the bridal party to use Zeneize at Fisherman’s Wharf as a staging area, and that’s where Julia styled her hair and applied her makeup. The men were relegated to the facilities at Cardone’s, along with Kelly, who insisted William go right ahead and call her his Best Man.
“I just hope your groom doesn’t smell like fish the entire wedding,” Julia's mother joked.
Groom . All morning long, Julia’s heart performed aerial maneuvers inside her chest, soaring in elation before barrel-rolling along with her nerves. She could hardly believe that after nineteen years and so many false starts, she was finally marrying William Quinn, the love of her life.
“Aw, look at her blush!” Alison teased, squatting a bit to press her cheek against Julia’s and preen at their reflections in the mirror .
“Hey, don’t mess up my makeup!” Julia chastised good-naturedly.
“Oh, so it’s a proper Bridezilla then, is it?”
Julia tried to swat her sister’s arm, but Alison dodged her. Alison was beaming and laughing, and she looked so radiant and voluptuous in her cranberry-red Maid of Honor dress that Julia was afraid she would steal her thunder. “Just make sure you and Mike get home before you let him maul you.”
“Yes,” their mother seconded after blotting her lipstick, “please respect the decorum of this sacred space.”
Alison craned her neck every which way, examining her surroundings with feigned shock. “Dunphy’s is a church now?”
“You know what I mean,” their mother chided over Paige’s snorts of laughter.
Speaking of Paige, Julia couldn’t help marveling over her pretty and increasingly grown-up-looking daughter. She wore a cranberry-red bridesmaid dress of her own, and she had allowed Julia to pin a hairpiece of eucalyptus leaves into her coronet of chocolate-brown braids. She had also allowed her Aunt Alison to do her makeup, and the result was both age- and wedding-appropriate, while still paying homage to Paige’s own emo / scene-kid aesthetic.
“I just hope Paige doesn’t make Xavier trip and fall while he’s escorting her down the aisle,” remarked Julia’s cousin, Holly, in her usual deadpan way.
Paige blushed at Holly’s compliment before returning it, and Paige certainly didn’t tell any white lies. Since handing over the reins of her legal nonprofit and accepting a job teaching law at Boston University, Holly had finally stopped straightening her glorious chestnut-brown mane of curls. She had also ditched the contact lenses in favor of a stylishly-oversized pair of glasses with teal tortoiseshell frames.
“I’m digging the whole vintage-Holly, sexy-librarian vibe,” Julia remarked, gesturing up and down the length of Holly’s hourglass figure, wrapped in its own cranberry-red dress. “By the way, how did you apply that lip color so precisely?”
“Let me show you.” Holly fished the tube of wine-red lip stain from her purse and settled into the chair beside Julia to work her magic.
“I’m so glad you could make it,” Julia murmured to her cousin in between coats. When Juli a asked Holly to be her third bridesmaid, Holly dropped everything to fly in from Boston. Julia and Holly were best friends throughout high school at Holy Cross Prep; and when Kevin pulled his disappearing act in 2006, Julia had started her paralegal career in Holly’s office.
“Me too, cuz,” Holly replied as affectionately as she ever would. Sometimes her resemblance to Lilith Stern on Cheers was downright uncanny. “I’m just sorry I have to leave tomorrow. Your timing was dreadful.”
“I know, I know – right in the middle of finals,” Julia said, before sing-songing, “ But I know something you don’t know. ”
Holly drew back the lip stain applicator just before it touched Julia’s lips. “What?”
“A certain someone will be in attendance today.”
Holly quirked an eyebrow in her familiar we are not amused gesture. “Since I have no certain someones, I can’t imagine who you mean.”
“Niall Costello,” Julia stage-whispered so everyone could hear.
While Alison snickered knowingly, Julia’s mother and Paige traded confused frowns. Meanwhile, Holly leaned back in her seat and screwed the applicator into the tube of lip stain with a flourish, as if readying for battle.
“Have you no shame, Jules?” she said mildly, a smile playing at her lips. “The man is married.”
“Not any- mo -ooore,” Julia sing-songed again, and reveled in the spark of interest that flashed through Holly’s brown eyes. “Niall and his wife divorced two years ago.”
Holly and Niall, the Irish drummer in William’s former band, had enjoyed a torrid fling six years ago. They met at MacGowan’s Pub around the same time that Kevin ran away to Brazil and Julia and William rekindled their relationship. But Holly’s distrust of men and aversion to commitment had sent her fleeing all the way across the country to Boston. Permanently . And in the six years since, Niall had married and divorced.
Blowing a dismissive raspberry, Holly said, “You know I don’t date men with kids.”
“You don’t date, period,” Julia pointed out .
Holly jabbed a finger at Julia. “Hence, I don’t date men with kids.”
“Fine. Then you’ll be glad to know Niall and his ex never had kids.” Julia in with a cheeky grin. “He’s blessedly childless.”
At Holly’s deer-in-the-headlights look, Alison cried, “Aaaaand scene!”
While the rest of them laughed at her expense, Holly suppressed a smirk and casually unscrewed the lip stain applicator again. Waving it at Julia, she said, “Just remember who wields the real power here. It would be a shame if I suddenly got shaky hands.”
“Shaky hands or no, you girls need to get a move on,” Julia’s mother admonished, prompting them to check the time.
“Oh my God,” Julia gasped, anxious adrenaline dumping into her veins. “We only have fifteen minutes!”
Alison came around to massage Julia’s shoulders and murmur words of reassurance, and then Holly finished applying Julia’s lip stain. After that, Julia stood to allow her mother to pin her own eucalyptus hairpiece into her half-updo. Then, her mother simply held her by the shoulders and surveyed her for a minute, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears, her lips trembling through a smile.
“I’ve never seen a more beautiful bride,” she said finally, her voice breaking, “and I’ve never seen a man more in love than William is with you. You’re a very lucky woman, Julia, and you’ll have a very happy life.”
Julia’s field of vision swam as she flapped her hands in front of her eyes. “You’re going to make my mascara run,” she choked out through a shaky laugh.
“Waterproof,” Alison piped up, waving the mascara tube in Julia’s face; and like always, Julia was grateful for her sister’s comedic timing.
Minutes later, Alison received Kelly's text signaling that it was time, and they were crossing the pier to the little brown wood-framed building she had known all her life: the Fisherman’s Chapel. Standing ramrod-straight, Julia’s father waited just outside the entrance with his hands clasped before him. He watched Julia’s approach in his usual stoic manner; but when she fin ally reached him, a tiny hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as pride glinted in his eyes.
He bent to kiss her cheek, murmuring, “You look lovely.” Positively effusive, for him.
“Thank you. So do you,” she replied breathlessly. “Handsome, I mean.”
As arranged, William’s friend Niall popped his head out to confirm they were ready before signaling Aaron – their officiant. Niall’s eyes snagged conspicuously on Holly for several awkward seconds before he retreated inside.
“Subtle,” Holly muttered, eliciting laughter from Julia and Alison; but Holly’s face flared red. Clearly, the encounter had flustered her, more than Julia would have expected from a mere summer fling six years ago.
But Julia didn’t have time to contemplate that. Pilar’s brother Rafael was quite the accomplished cellist, so Julia and William had engaged him to provide the music. Now, refrains of Bach’s Prelude from Cello Suite #1 floated out to summon them, and everyone but Julia and her father filed into the chapel.
Inside, William’s Uncle Frank would be escorting Ann and Julia’s mother to their seats in the front row. Then, Mike would escort Alison, followed by Xavier and Paige, then Kelly and Holly. Finally, Robert would process down the aisle as the flower boy, leading Diego on a leash as the ring bearer. Kelly had sealed the rings inside a tiny velvet pouch before attaching it securely to Diego’s collar. Julia knew it was almost her turn when she heard the guests’ laughter.
And then, through the pounding of her heart, she heard her father’s steady voice beside her: “Are you ready?”
Adrenaline thrummed through her veins and electrified her skin. She peered up at him, and the corners of his mouth lifted again as he presented his arm. Smiling, she looped her arm through his, clasping her bouquet of succulents and eucalyptus in her left hand.
And then the chapel doors swung open.
From previous visits, Julia knew that a stained-glass window bearing the image of a nautical steering wheel filtered light into the chapel. She knew plaques lined the walls, bearing the names of fishermen lost at sea, including Cardones – W illiam’s own family. She knew that behind the simple, green-draped altar with its plain white taper candles, a picture window looked out over the bay. Underneath a peaked, wood beam ceiling, pews flanked a center aisle, and Julia knew those pews contained people who were standing and turning to face her.
But Julia saw none of that. The only thing she saw in that moment waited at the head of the aisle in an impeccably tailored dark gray suit, a cranberry-red tie, and a small green succulent in his lapel. William waited expectantly and a bit nervously, with his hands clasped before him.
But when Julia and her father stepped forward and William caught his first glimpse of her, his knees nearly buckled. Kelly and Mike tensed, preparing to catch him; but when he didn't collapse, they stepped back again with knowing grins.
Still, Julia saw nothing and nobody but William, who flushed as he watched her draw nearer. His breathing grew ragged, and two fat tears rolled down his cheeks – but he was smiling.
No, he wasn’t smiling – he was glowing. Radiating pure, unadulterated joy.
Julia willed her own tears to remain at bay and riveted her eyes to William’s so she wouldn’t miss a single reaction. Kelly retrieved a handkerchief from her pocket, and William accepted it only long enough to dab his eyes and get himself under control. But his eyes still shimmered when Julia finally stood before him, and his chin and lips wobbled as she passed her bouquet to Alison.
She beamed up at William encouragingly as he took her hands in his. The slightly self-conscious twist of his mouth and the color on his cheeks spoke to his state of mind as he gazed down at her in front of his family and friends. But the corners of his eyes crinkled up as they always did when he smiled so lovingly.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered.
“So are you,” she whispered in return.
William’s eyes made a complete circuit of Julia's face, hair, and makeup. They skimmed the neckline of her white, hand-crocheted wedding dress. They traced the slightly bell-shaped sleeves down her arms and back up again until they landed on her mouth. She studied him just as intently – the swirl of his aqua irises. His straight nose and full mouth. The slight cleft of his chin, barely visible beneath the not-too-neatly-trimmed scruff of his beard – just the way she liked it.
Only then did they notice Aaron standing before them, and only because he conspicuously cleared his throat. Their guests chuckled knowingly, and Julia's surroundings finally came into focus. She registered the smiling faces of her daughter and son, her sister and cousin, and each of William’s attendants. She registered their joyfully tearful mothers in the front row, and the rest of their family and friends filling the pews behind them.
But as Aaron began the ceremony, all of that once again faded away, until it was only Julia and William, peering into each other’s eyes with pure adoration and devotion. And when it was time to say their vows, Julia and William’s obliviousness to everything but each other only compounded their guests’ amusement.
William, still clasping Julia’s hands, gazed down at his bride with pure tenderness. “This first poem is by one of my all-time favorites, Pablo Neruda. It’s called I Love You Without Knowing How , and I’ve been waiting to recite it to you at our wedding since we were eighteen.”
It was hopeless – Julia's tears breached the dam. Somewhere in the distant recesses of her consciousness, she registered sniffles coming from the pews. But though Julia shuddered through a sob, and William’s face swam in her field of vision, she was still beaming.
The quaver in William’s voice was the only clue to his state of mind as he recited from memory.
I don’t love you as if you were a rose of salt, topaz,
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:
I love you as one loves certain obscure things,
secretly, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that doesn’t bloom but carries
the light of those flowers, hidden, within itself,
and thanks to your love the tight aroma that arose
from the earth lives dimly in my body .
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you directly without problems or pride:
I love you like this because I don’t know any other way
to love,
except in this form in which I am not nor are you,
so close that your hand upon my chest is mine,
so close that your eyes close with my dreams.
Julia's tears were officially destroying her makeup. She accepted a tissue from Alison and tried to salvage as much of it as possible before taking William’s hands in her own.
She could only pray that the look she pinned on him conveyed at least a fraction of the love she felt. “This poem is called Heart to Heart, by Rita Dove,” she managed to warble out, and from the intrigued sparkle in his eyes, she knew he had never heard it.
It’s neither red
nor sweet.
It doesn’t melt
or turn over,
break or harden,
so it can’t feel
pain,
yearning,
regret.
It doesn’t have
a tip to spin on,
it isn’t even
shapely—
just a thick clutch
of muscle,
lopsided,
mute. Still,
I feel it inside
its cage soundin g
a dull tattoo:
I want, I want ? —
but I can’t open it:
there’s no key.
I can’t wear it
on my sleeve,
or tell you from
the bottom of it
how I feel. Here,
it’s all yours, now ? —
but you’ll have
to take me,
too.
William laughed gamely, and their guests chuckled along, too. Then, hand in hand, they each lit a single candle on the altar.
Back in their spots, William took her hands again and recited another poem, this one by Rumi; and their guests’ soft sighs echoed the ones whispering through Julia's spirit. Blinking back more tears, she squeezed his hands once, then recited from Maya Angelou.
With that, they each lit another candle on the altar.
Finally, it was time for Kelly to retrieve the rings from Diego’s collar and pass Julia’s to William. Capturing Julia’s eyes with his, his lips trembling through a smile, William turned the Claddagh ring so the heart faced inwards. Now it was a wedding ring, and he slid it onto her left ring finger. His hands never left hers as he recited the words of Hafiz.
Let us be like
Two falling stars in the day sky.
Let no one know of our sublime beauty
As we hold hands with God
And burn
Into a sacred existence that defies ? —
That surpasse s
Every description of ecstasy
And love.
Still beaming, Julia squeezed William’s hands again before turning to accept his ring from Kelly. Like her own, it was a Claddagh ring, but made of titanium. Besides the iconic Claddagh heart, hands, and crown, the Irish phrase A chéadsearc – “my first love” – encircled the band in Ogham script.
William admired it for the first time when she slid it onto his finger, and then his eyes lifted to hers in anticipation.
“The final stanza of At Last , by Elizabeth Akers Allen,” she announced simply.
I count no more my wasted tears;
They left no echo of their fall;
I mourn no more my lonesome years;
This blessed hour atones for all.
I fear not all that Time or Fate
May bring to burden heart or brow,—
Strong in the love that came so late,
Our souls shall keep it always now!
Julia’s heart flipped somersaults as tears welled again in William’s eyes. He used the heel of one palm to wipe them away before blinking tenderly down at Julia. As her own tears spilled over, Julia turned with a wobbly smile to beckon her children forward. The four of them – Julia, Willliam, Paige, and Robert – each took a single, lit candle from the altar. With Alison assisting Robert, their individual flames converged at the wick of the Unity candle.
With that, Aaron pronounced Julia and William husband and wife, and without a moment’s hesitation, William pulled Julia closer.
Clasping her cheek in the palm of his hand, he whispered, “I’ve been waiting for this since I first laid eyes on you.” And before he pressed his lips to hers – before the chapel rang out with their guests’ cheers – Julia wondered if he meant the first time he laid eyes on her today , or ever .
After exiting the chapel hand in hand to the serenades of Rafael’s cello, Julia and William crossed the pier to enjoy a few precious minutes alone in the restaurant before the wedding photos.
Pausing in front of Julia’s massive aquarium with its swirling tropical palette, William pulled her against him. They indulged in kisses for a minute or two, then William’s eyes devoured Julia in several lingering courses.
He sounded almost pained as he echoed his earlier words: “You're so beautiful.”
“So are you,” she murmured, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall, yet again.
Pulling her close again, he touched his forehead to hers and smiled down at her. “This is the happiest day of my life, Julie.”
Her heart flooded with a familiar warmth. “So many of the happiest days of my life have been with you.”
“And more to come.” He held her left hand in both of his and touched her ring. “I can’t believe you’re really, finally my wife.”
“I can. As Dad would say, it’s about freaking time.”
He laughed almost giddily. “I believe he used stronger language.”
Her adoring eyes scanned his, back and forth. He dipped his head and kissed her deeply, then rested his forehead against hers and bit his bottom lip, savoring.
“Jesus, I wish we could be alone right now,” he said finally.
“You’re the one who wanted a wedding and a reception,” she teased him.
“I let my pride and ego get the better of me,” he admitted. “I wanted to show you off in front of everyone. I mean, who could blame me, with such a smoking-hot wife?”
“Would you guys cut it out with the derpy heart eyes? I’m throwing up in my mouth a little.”
Julia and William hadn’t even registered Alison’s presence – and that was saying something, since Alison never made a quiet entrance. They reluctantly disentangled themselves, but Alison’s grin belied her professions of disgust. Snickering, Julia allowed her sister to drag her into the ladies’ room to fix her hair and makeup.
After the wedding photos, the newlyweds and their mothers worked the dining room, welcoming family and friends, accepting their compliments and congratulations, and thanking them for coming. Julia and William barely had time to take in the restaurant’s coastal-chic-meets-urban-industrial remodel, nor all the simple but elegant decorations their mothers and sisters had festooned it with. They had even less time to savor the incredible spread of Genoese Christmas-season classics Marisa and Stephen had catered for them.
Food was eaten, toasts were made, and Alison's cake was cut and enjoyed. All too soon, Julia and William were fleeing the restaurant through a shower of birdseed and escaping in William’s Jeep. Someone – Julia placed bets on Alison and Mike – had painted Just Married on every window in white shoe polish. But Julia and William didn’t notice the shoes and cans they had tied to William's bumper until the racket finally betrayed them.
William pulled over at the nearest gas station to untie the noise-makers and squeegee the shoe polish so he wouldn’t kill his new bride in a wreck.The scene drew an audience of fellow customers and even the station clerk, who either stared, laughed, or congratulated them. After that, they were on a mission to get home as quickly as possible. An empty house awaited, thanks to Kelly and Pilar agreeing to keep Robert overnight, and Alison keeping Paige.
“There’s something that needs to happen,” William declared after unlocking their front door.
Julia yelped as he scooped her up and carried her, laughing, across the threshold. With her free arm, she clumsily helped close and lock the door, and then he carried her upstairs to the bedroom, where he finally set her down on her feet.
Between spurts of laughter, she awaited his next move. Smiling warmly down at her, his eyes crinkling at the corners, he unpinned her eucalyptus hairpiece and set it on the dresser. Then he loosened the sections of hair that she had pinned, allowing them to tumble over her ears.
“You chose this dress just to torture me, didn’t you?” he murmured, his breath warm against the shell of her ear. By way of explanation, he pressed his fingertips lightly against the bare skin of her back.
Goosebumps erupted over every square inch of her skin. “Smart man,” she quipped, his touch making her words mushy.
His hand swept over her hair, tucking locks of it behind her ear. She unpinned her earrings and set them on the bedside table. Smiling impishly at him, she started loosening his tie, then laughed when he ripped it the rest of the way off and flung it to the floor. Smirking, he peeled off his suit jacket and tossed that aside as well. Then he tapped her shoulder and spun his finger in the air, signaling her to turn around. After undoing the tie below her neck that held everything together, he peeled the wedding dress from her shoulders, down her arms, and all the way to the floor. And he did it with such agonizing slowness that Julia decided it must be payback for the torture she had inflicted on him.
From where he knelt on the floor, his palms and lips traveled a slow, winding route up her calves. As they smoothed their way up the backs of her thighs, Julia closed her eyes, her lips falling open slightly, her head tipping back. She savored his wide, rough palms and warm, full lips as they lavished attention on the round curves of her bare bottom.
“Correction: you wear these to torture me, don’t you?” he rumbled. His fingertip traced the string of her thong to where it vanished into the cleft of her backside and beyond.
“Absolutely,” she gasped, shuddering in anticipation. “And if this is what you call revenge, I’ll keep torturing you.”
His fingertip froze on its journey through her cleft, then suddenly, he pulled away. “We can’t have that, now, can we?” he rasped out, his breath hot against her skin.
She whined as he started to stand, but her whines turned to moans when his tongue traced the groove of her back – slowly. Always so slowly. Inch by inch, up her spine, through the valley between her shoulder blades, until his warm, wet mouth latched onto the curve where her neck met her shoulders. She exhaled a long, ragged breath as he suckled the skin there – as his palms simultaneously traveled up her ribcage.
“I wondered how you were wearing a bra with that backless dress,” he murmured against her neck when he found her self-adhesive silicone bra cups. “I was kind of hoping to find nothing, like that time in Eden.”
“Oh, so that’s what you were thinking about while we were exchanging our vows,” she teased, her voice thin and quavering, like a violin strung too taut.
“And also during the reception.”
She laughed out loud, then winced as she peeled away the bra cups.
“Ouch,” he sympathized.
“I know; it’s probably not very sexy,” she replied.
“You could do, say, or wear anything right now, and I would find it sexy,” he murmured, turning her to face him again. And then his tongue delved into her mouth, tangling with hers, and the hand on her backside pushed her hips into his. She loosened his suit trousers, allowing them to fall around his ankles.
“Already at full mast, I see,” she purred as her hand dove into his boxers, and he answered with an erotic, starved kiss.
A minute later they lay in bed, naked, their bodies and lips and hands sliding over and around each other. Taking their time, not in any special hurry; yet keenly attuned to each other, to the exclusion of all else.
“Jesus, I’m so fucking turned on right now,” he ground out, his voice raw and gravelly.
She rose over him and shifted forward to straddle his lap, one knee on either side of his hips. His eyes, dark azure with lust, pored greedily over every inch of her, down and back up again. He rested his hands in the curves of her waist, then did a little sit-up to lavish attention on her breasts, each in turn. Grasping them in his warm palms, he gently pulled her nipples between his lips.
“Will,” she breathed, stroking the soft hair on the crown of his head. Watching him languidly worship her, his eyes closed in pleasure.
She slowly lowered herself right down onto him, and they both gasped at how effortlessly he sank in, so deep.
He growled softly into her ear, then pulled back just enough to capture her eyes with his. His forehead creased, and the blue of his irises swirled with the most aching sort of need.
Immediately she bobbed up and down on him, and he stared unabashedly at her breas ts as they bounced along with her. He reached for them again, kneading with his hands. Cupping the back of her head in his palm; pulling her down to him. Tonguing her wide-open mouth.
He stiffened and lengthened even more, and she moaned with the sharp pleasure of it. He reached between their bodies, finding the most sensitive part of her with his thumb and starting to circle.
“Oh God–” She seized his shoulders and dropped her head back, moaning even louder. Bucking wildly on him in sheer elation.
Suddenly his fingers stopped, and she whimpered in dismay. In one fluid movement, he did another sit up, grabbed her waist, and lifted her right out of bed, setting her feet on the floor.
“I want you to see every single thing I’m doing to you,” he explained, his voice thick with need as he climbed out of bed. He took her hand and led her right to the full-length mirror hanging on the inside surface of the bedroom door.
He positioned her in front of it so she could see all of herself in its reflection. Standing behind her, he wrapped his left arm around her waist, while his other hand snaked its way up her torso to cup and squeeze her breast. The entire time, he watched her reaction in the mirror with wolfish blue eyes.
Teasing her earlobe with his teeth, he whispered, “Jesus Christ, Julie – look how beautiful you are. I still can’t believe I’m the one who gets to do this with you.”
Overpowered with emotion and sensation, Julia could only close her eyes and release a long, shuddering sigh. With his right hand he touched her chin, turning her face and meeting her open mouth with his tongue. She whimpered in surrender, and he responded by trailing his right hand down her neck, over her breast, down her belly.
And then his fingertips were separating her, circling – slowly at first, then faster. At the same time, his tongue tasted hers; and with his left hand he caressed her breast and brushed his thumb back and forth over the stiff peak of her nipple, occasionally pinching it between his thumb and forefinger. With every exponential crescendo of pleasure, her moans increased in pitch; and with every increase in pitch, he groaned with frustrated lust. And all the while, he keenly watched her every movement and facial expression in the mirror, and she watched his; and then her skin was pink and gl owing, and her eyelids grew heavy, and her mouth slackened, and she cried out – a long, raw, uninhibited gust. With the arm encircling her waist, he squeezed her against him for support, whispering words of praise into her ear while she exploded against his fingers.
She wasn’t even finished pulsating before he said tightly, “I’m sorry, Julie, but I need inside of you right now before I come all over your back.”
Her orgasm had mostly carried away her powers of speech, but she managed to croak out a strangled, “No.” He froze, his wide eyes catching hers in the mirror, until she clarified, “I have a better idea.”
Before he could respond, she spun around and fell to her knees before him. She dragged her palms along, sweeping them down his perfect chest, his taut stomach, his lean waist, until they rested on his hips. They locked eyes as her hands closed in on the part of him that was hard as steel and pointing right at its target. She kept her eyes glued on his as she flicked his tip with her tongue, sucking the sweet little drops that collected there like honeydew – as she took all of him, all the way into her mouth and down her throat.
He sucked in air through clenched teeth, scraped his fingers through her hair, and rewarded her with a truly legendary streak of dirty words.
Each time her eyes flitted up to his, he was either staring down at her with an open mouth and a heated expression; or he was watching their reflection in the mirror behind her.
“Julie… God, Julie, your body...” He sucked in another gasp through his teeth, and she moaned low in her throat as he jerked and lengthened. “ Fuck , your mouth is perfect.”
When she lifted her eyes, he was watching her in the mirror again. He moaned so eagerly as she dropped one hand just beneath the solid straining length of him and squeezed – careful but firm. He was already drawn up tight into his body – so close. His eyes rolled shut and he exhaled sharply, gripping her head between his hands; and she watched his face contort.
“Oh God – I’m gonna come–”
A series of vocal gasps reached a crescendo, and he groaned hoarsely as he careened over the precipice, jetting against the back of her throat. He was shouting her name , and God’s name; and groaning that he was coming hard for her; he was coming so hard.
Her mouth continued its steady drive along him, until his groans and gasps subsided to heavy panting. He still held her head between his hands, and when his eyes gradually rolled open again, they were tinged with awe. Her lips, still wrapped around him, curved into a smile, and as he began to soften, she gave him a couple of parting kisses.
Then he took her hand, helped her to her feet, and tucked her sweetly against him. He curled his long arms around her until one palm rested on her shoulder and the other on her ribcage. She pressed her ear to his chest and listened to his heartbeat, still flapping wildly against his sternum. His breathing gradually returned to normal.
Eventually he pulled back from her, but only enough to tenderly clasp her face in his hands. His breathtaking eyes flickered back and forth between hers, roaming the length and breadth of her face.
Her heart was a balloon in her chest, heat expanding it into the most sublime ache. The warm ache spread to her face, down her limbs, and all the way to the fingertips that traced his lips. He licked those perfect lips, and the ache plunged down her torso, pooling between her thighs like warm honey.
“I don’t understand how you do this,” she whispered.
“Do what?”
“Make me need more. Already.”
His eyes were a study in pure devotion, rolling shut just long enough for him to press a soft, lingering kiss on her lips. Then, without another word, he took her hand and led her back to bed.
“Well, we didn’t waste any time, did we?” Julia laughed after Round Two. She had collapsed on top of William, her forehead pressed into the same pillow that cradled his head. He wrapped his arms around her torso, squeezing so as much of their skin made contact as possible.
“No time like the present,” he replied; and they laughed deliriously, stupidly, their hilarity entirely out of proportion to the joke. Kissing each other again, and again .
Eventually she flopped onto her back, and he rolled onto his side, facing her. He traced her sweaty torso with his fingertips, up and down – between her breasts, to her navel and beyond, and back up again.
“Isn’t this where we’re supposed to light a cigarette or something?” she quipped.
He propped his head up on his fist, his elbow on the mattress. “I thought you said you were allergic to cigarette smoke.”
“When did I say that?”
“On the beach, at the bonfire.” When she still looked confused, he clarified, “The day before we went whale watching the first time.”
“You mean when we were seventeen? I was lying, you goofball! I was using it as an excuse because I was too scared to try marijuana.”
He flopped onto his back laughing now, and this time she was the one who rolled onto her side to face him. She smiled tenderly, her fingertips tracing circles through the hair on his chest; and as always, she marveled at the beauty of his face as he submitted wholeheartedly to joy.
“How do you think I survived working at Dunphy’s all those years, before the indoor smoking ban?” she persisted. “Or at your house with your family, for that matter? Didn’t that tip you off?”
“I think I was ready to believe anything you said back then,” he admitted. “I was desperately, hopelessly in love with you.”
“Well, it’s nice to know how you felt back then ,” she teased.
“I still do,” he protested, poking her in the shoulder. “In case the fact that I literally just married you isn’t proof enough.”
“No, you literally just screwed me stupid. And by the way – despite its tepid reputation, it looks like married sex will be at least as hot as living-in-sin sex.”
Laughing again, he rolled onto his side and pulled her in close; and it gave her so much happiness to know that she could give him so much happiness. For the longest time, they kissed relentlessly while savoring the pleasure of their bodies pressed together.
But finally, William said, “If we’re going to make it to Eden before dark, we’d better get moving.”
So they reluctantly dragged themselves out of bed and put on their everyday, non-wedding clothes. Loading their already-packed suitcases and groceries into Willi am’s Jeep, they set out shortly afterward and made it to Eden just before sunset.
“Oh, look!” Julia cried as they pulled up to the farmhouse. Aaron’s daughter, Rina, had decorated the farmhouse and many of the surrounding cypresses with Christmas lights. And she had decked the front porch and some of the windows with evergreen garlands, wreaths, and red bows.
After unloading the car, they discovered that Rina had also left them a note of congratulations on the dining table, along with a bottle of sparkling grape juice in an ice bucket and two champagne flutes. They gladly partook, along with the light supper of antipasti they had packed. Then, after stargazing a while, they collapsed into bed and immediately dropped off to sleep, too exhausted for any more wedding night shenanigans.