16. Elise
— ? —
Elise
That Night
The hotel suite overlooks the ocean.
We booked it for the wedding night, a splurge, a celebration, a chance to be alone after hours of socializing and toasts and well-wishes. The room is all white linens and soft lighting, the sound of waves drifting through the open balcony doors.
Dominic closes the door behind us and leans against it, watching me.
“Hi,” he says.
“Hi yourself.”
“You’re my wife.”
“I noticed.” I hold up my hand, letting the new ring catch the light. “Kind of hard to miss.”
“Say it again.”
“I’m your wife.”
He crosses the room in three strides, pulls me into his arms, and kisses me like he’s drowning and I’m air.
“I’ve been waiting all day for this,” he murmurs against my mouth.
“We saw each other all day.”
“Not alone. Not like this.” His hands find my zipper, start working it down. “Do you know how hard it was, watching you in this dress, knowing I couldn’t touch you the way I wanted?”
“I have some idea.”
“No. You don’t.” He pushes the dress off my shoulders, letting it pool at my feet. “I’ve been half-hard since you walked down the aisle. Through the ceremony. Through the vows. Through your sister’s toast that went on for twenty minutes-”
“She was emotional.”
“She was testing my patience.” He steps back, taking in the sight of me in just my white lingerie, a delicate lace set I bought specifically for tonight. “Jesus, Elise.”
“You like it?”
“I’m going to destroy it.”
“That’s why I bought two.”
He laughs - surprised, delighted - and pulls me close again.
“I love you,” he says.
“Show me.”
***
He undresses me slowly, unhurried.
The bra first - unclasped slowly, slid off my shoulders like he’s unwrapping a gift. He cups my breasts in his hands, thumbs brushing over my nipples until they peak.
“I remember the first time I saw you like this,” he says. “I couldn’t believe you were real. Couldn’t believe you were letting me touch you.”
“And now?”
“Now I know you’re real. And I get to touch you for the rest of my life.” He lowers his head, taking one nipple into his mouth. “That’s even better.”
I moan, threading my fingers through his hair. He’s still fully dressed - his suit jacket gone, but shirt and pants still in place - and there’s something obscenely hot about the contrast. Me nearly naked, him still clothed, like he’s in complete control.
He moves to the other breast, lavishing it with the same attention. His hands slide down my sides, hook into the waistband of my underwear, and drag it down my legs.
“Step out,” he murmurs.
I do, kicking the lace aside.
“Now you’re overdressed,” I say.
“Am I?”
“Very.”
“Then do something about it.”
***
I start with his shirt.
Button by button, revealing the chest I’ve mapped with my hands and mouth a hundred times. The dark hair, the defined muscles, the tattoo on his ribs. I trace it with my finger - his mother’s birthday, the only piece of sentimentality he allows himself - and feel him shiver.
“I love this tattoo,” I say.
“I know.”
“I love everything about you.”
“I know that too.”
His shirt falls to the floor. I work on his belt next, fumbling slightly with anticipation, finally getting it free and sliding it from the loops.
“Pants,” I say.
“Yes ma’am.”
He sheds them, then his boxers, and stands before me completely naked. Hard. Ready.
“God,” I breathe.
“See something you like?”
“Everything.” I reach for him, wrap my hand around his length. “I like everything.”
He hisses through his teeth as I stroke him, slow, deliberate, twisting slightly at the head the way I’ve learned he likes.
“You’re playing with fire,” he warns.
“Maybe I want to get burned.”
“Careful what you wish for.”
He lifts me - hands under my thighs, hoisting me up like I weigh nothing - and carries me to the bed. I land on my back among the white linens, and he crawls over me, his body covering mine.
“I had plans for tonight,” he says. “Elaborate plans. Romantic plans.”
“What kind of plans?”
“Champagne. Rose petals. Hours of slow lovemaking.” He kisses my jaw. “But right now, all I can think about is being inside you.”
“Then be inside me.”
“Elise-”
“We have all night for slow. Right now, I need my husband.”
The word - husband - seems to snap something in him.
“Say that again,” he breathes.
“My husband.”
“Again.”
“Husband. You’re my husband. I’m your wife. Now fuck me.”
***
He doesn’t need to be told twice.
One moment he’s hovering over me; the next, he’s inside me - one smooth, deep thrust that drives the air from my lungs. We both groan at the sensation, the finally of it, the perfect fit of his body inside mine.
“You feel incredible,” he says through gritted teeth. “Every time. Every single time, it’s like the first.”
“Move. Please move.”
He does.
Long, powerful strokes that build a rhythm between us. I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, and he groans, a sound of pure, desperate pleasure.
“I’m trying to go slow,” he pants.
“Don’t.”
“Elise-”
“I don’t want slow. I want you. Hard. Like you need me.”
“I do need you.” He punctuates the words with a harder thrust. “Every day. Every minute. You’re all I think about.”
“Show me.”
He does.
The rhythm changes - faster, more intense. He hooks one of my legs over his shoulder, changing the angle, and I cry out as he hits a spot that makes my whole body seize.
“There?” he asks.
“Yes - god, yes - don’t stop-”
He doesn’t stop. He pounds into me with single-minded focus, hitting that perfect spot with every thrust, pushing me higher and higher toward a peak I can feel building like a tidal wave.
“I’m going to come,” I gasp.
“Already?”
“Can’t help it - you feel too good-”
“Then come.” He reaches between us, finds my clit, rubs in tight circles. “Come for your husband, Mrs. Reid.”
The combination of his cock and his fingers and that word - Mrs. Reid - sends me over the edge. I shatter, clenching around him, his name torn from my throat in a broken cry.
He fucks me through it, extending the pleasure until I’m shaking and oversensitive. Then he pulls out suddenly, leaving me gasping.
“Turn over,” he says.
“What-”
“On your hands and knees. I want you from behind.”
***
I comply, trembling, arranging myself on all fours.
He takes a moment - I can feel his eyes on me, drinking in the sight - and then his hands are on my hips, positioning me just right.
“So beautiful,” he murmurs. “Every inch of you.”
He pushes back in.
The angle is different like this - deeper, more intense. I fist my hands in the sheets, biting my lip to keep from screaming as he sets a relentless pace.
“I’ve thought about this,” he says, voice rough. “Having you like this. Making you come over and over until you can’t remember anything but my name.”
“Dominic-”
“That’s it. Say it again.”
“Dominic - please-”
“Please what?”
“Harder - I need-”
He gives me what I need.
His thrusts become almost punishing - deep and hard and exactly perfect. One hand slides around to find my clit again, rubbing in circles that match his rhythm.
“I want you to come again,” he says. “Can you do that for me? Can you be a good girl and come on my cock?”
“Yes - I’m close-”
“Tell me who you belong to.”
“You - I belong to you-”
“And who do I belong to?”
“Me - you’re mine-”
“Damn right I am. Now come.”
I come so hard my vision whites out.
Distantly, I hear him groan - feel him swell inside me, feel the hot pulse as he follows me over the edge. We collapse together onto the bed, a tangle of sweaty limbs and racing hearts.
***
“We’re married,” I say eventually.
“We are.”
“That was... wedding night appropriate?”
“I think we exceeded expectations.”
I laugh, rolling over to face him. His hair is wrecked, his chest heaving, his expression utterly satisfied.
“I love you,” I say.
“I love you too, Mrs. Reid.”
“Are you going to call me that all the time now?”
“Probably.” He grins. “Does it bother you?”
“No.” I trace his jaw with my finger. “I kind of love it.”
“Good.” He pulls me closer. “Because you’re stuck with me now. Legally bound.”
“Willingly bound.”
“Even better.”
We lie there for a while, catching our breath, letting the ocean breeze cool our heated skin.
“You mentioned champagne earlier,” I say.
“I did.”
“And rose petals.”
“Those too.”
“Maybe we could still do the romantic thing. For round two.”
He laughs, pushing up on one elbow.
“Round two?”
“Or three. Or four. We have all night.” I stretch luxuriously. “And I’d like to make use of it.”
“Your wish is my command, Mrs. Reid.”
He kisses me, soft and sweet, then goes to retrieve the champagne.
I watch him move across the room, naked and unselfconscious, and think about how far we’ve come. A year ago, I was planning a vow renewal for a man who was cheating on me. Now I’m married to someone who looks at me like I’m the most precious thing in the world.
Not bad, I think. Not bad at all.
He returns with two glasses and a bottle, settles beside me on the bed, and pours with a flourish.
“To us,” he says, raising his glass.
“To us.”
We drink.
And then we do make use of the rest of the night.
Several times over.