Epilogue
JULIET
-The Power of Love-
The villa in Tulum wraps around us like a warm embrace, its white stucco walls and open terraces overlooking the Caribbean Sea.
Down below lies the Dreams Tulum Resort mango and papaya, all juicy-sweet.
The threat of rain has vanished, and the full sunset covers us as though giving its blessing.
We eat, dance, and laugh all night. The band Juliet hired plays upbeat songs that force you to your feet.
I watch as Freya twirls with Mom, her dress spinning, and my friends toast to us with stories and well-wishes.
But soon enough, I grow impatient. Watching her dance with friends and family, her gown flowing, laughter lighting her face, is wonderful, but being hard through all if it is hell.
Like nothing else in this moment, I ache to touch her, to have her alone with me, even if it’s just for a few minutes.
Eventually, I lean in during a slow song, pulling her close with my hand on her waist, thumb stroking the lace. My voice is low and husky as I whisper in her ear: "How long do you think this will go on for?"
She smiles, reading my eyes, and takes my hand, lacing our fingers tight. "All night, of course," she teases with a laugh, but she spots my impatience and understands. She can feel how hard I am.
“Blake,” she scolds with a laugh, but her eyes darken. Eventually, my desire transfers to her, and she grips my hand and leads me away discreetly on the path that leads to our bedroom. The party sounds fade behind us.
We head up the stone steps lit by tiki torches. I twist the lock on the door when we arrive. The room is lovely and cool from the AC, and the massive bed is ready with the sheets turned down and scattered with rose petals.
I kiss her then, my hands cupping her face as my thumbs stroke her cheeks. Our tongues dance slowly. She tastes of champagne. My beautiful wife. Oh, how much I love her.
Hoisting her dress up, I lift her up. Her legs wrap around my waist as I carry her to the bed and deposit her there. She laughs breathily and falls back, hair fanning out on the pillow, and eyes dark with lust.
I make love to her slowly and sweetly at first, hands exploring every curve, lips on her neck, her skin tasting warm and salty.
Her gasps are soft in the room, the balcony breeze carrying the sea's rhythm as I peel down the lace, exposing her breasts.
Her nipples peak under my touch while my thumb circles slowly, and her back arches as a low, throaty moan escapes.
Then I quicken my pace. I give it to her hard and fast. Her hands claw down my back and her gasps turn into cries. I don’t hold back.
“Oh, baby!” She shudders and cries my name over and over again as she meets my hips with hers.
Thrust after thrust. Her eyes roll back into her head, and she comes.
Beautifully. Shuddering beneath me. She pulls me over the edge with her, and soon I’m going over the abyss too, emptying my seed into her.
As she recovers, I swear my life to her in one more fierce kiss.
“I love you, Mrs. Bessant." My voice is rough with emotion. “More than I can ever say.”
“I know,” she whispers, tears filling the corners of her eyes. “I love you too. More than I can ever say.”
And we both hold on to the other, refusing to let go.
And they lived happily ever after…