End of the Innocence

Chapter 75

Two days later, we wed in a small ceremony in our backyard. It happened at dusk, the pool littered with small flowers and candles, the glow reflecting in delicate patterns off our skin. We were a party of few, the invitees kept to my parents, Martha, and our close friends. Rebecca handled the details, and Martha fed us like kings at the conclusion of the nuptials. I would never forget the look in Brad’s eyes, love shining unabashed as he spoke words that have tied together souls for centuries. His love was terrifying in its entirety, an uncontrollable wave that fiercely dominated normal levels of emotion. I worried I was unable to compete, my own love inferior in its selfish humanity.

“You won’t understand,” he whispered later that night. “Unless you come close to losing me, you will never understand the black hole that my soul became when I thought you were gone. I hope you never understand the depth of love you have for me, I hope your heart is never pushed off that cliff. Just know that I am forever yours. You may crush my heart, and I will ask you for more. I just need to know you are happy and safe. Nothing else will ever matter to me.”

He moved above me, his mouth coursing over mine, soft kisses gently caressing my soul, kisses that traveled, down my neck, his body sliding lower, his fingers unbuttoning my nightshirt as my legs wrapped around him. Then, he was at the top of my panties, his bare mouth skimming the line of skin before satin, his kisses continuing lower, until I felt the heat of his mouth through the fabric, teasing my skin, his tongue swiping over my silk-covered sex. I moaned, arching into his mouth, his hands moving underneath me until they gripped the muscles of my ass, lifting me fully into his mouth, the hot air of his breath tickling my inner thighs. The barrier of my panties stretched out my buildup, my frustration growing along with my orgasm, heightening the arc when it came, a quivering explosion of pleasure, his audible moan of arousal incredibly hot to my ears.

Then we christened a bed that we had christened a hundred times before, but this time, as husband and wife, the fucking sweeter, the kisses slower, the look of love in his eyes more intense.

I fell asleep wrapped in his arms, a strong frame of protection that I never wanted to leave. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered into my neck, my eyes already heavy with the edges of sleep.

“For what?” I said groggily.

“For not finding you. For not being there. I should have rescued you.”

I smiled, my words finding surface before I was captured by the pull of sleep. “You rescued me the moment I met you. My life began on that day.”

He pulled me tighter to him, and I fell. The final step. I fell into sleep, into life, into love. It felt as if I had finished a journey, grown and changed by the experience. I had arrived to the place where I was, where I was born to be who I was born to be, with whom I was born for. No matter what the future brought, whether it was danger, or sexual heat that burned me alive, or a weary game of checkers in a nursing home, I wanted it, with every inch of my body. I embraced our future and our ability to spend every last minute of it next to this man. My husband. My mate. My soul’s recognition in another.