Anew: The Epilogue (3 page)

From another man, or any person, I would find that
unbearably intrusive. But I accept it from Ian without reservation. We’re where
we are today because we’ve had the courage to be honest with each other. No
sense of personal privacy is worth putting that at risk.

“I won’t,” I say, looking up at him. The words are a promise
as binding as the vows I spoke a few hours ago.

His expression softens but that’s the only part of him that
does so. His erection brushes against my thigh, hard, firm, tantalizing.

I move against him, unabashed in my need. “I want you,
husband.”

In the aftermath of my storm of tears, his eyes are watchful.
“And you’ll have me but not quite yet. First--”

He puts his hand under a sensor embedded in the marble wall
of the shower and collects a palm-full of jasmine scented body wash.

“First,” he says as he spreads the fragrant gel between his
hands, “I’m going to wash every inch of you.” His fingers trail over both sides
of my throat, down along my collarbones toward my swollen, aching breasts. The
tips swirl around my hardened nipples before tugging lightly.

Leaning closer, he says, “Then I’m going to make you come on
my hand. After that…we’ll see.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

After
that
, when I’m slumped limp and dazed against
the wall of the shower, Ian washes himself. He takes his time, enjoying
watching me watching him. When his hand closes around the length of his cock
and moves back and forth with leisurely strokes, I moan. I realize that he’s
fully recovered from his injuries, in peak condition, and that our libidos are
extremely compatible. But still, his stamina is astounding.

It lasts until we’re out of the shower, toweled dry, and
back in the bedroom. I eye the foot of the bed and remember what he said
earlier. But Ian has other ideas.

“It’s our wedding night,” he says. “I want to take my time
and savor my beloved wife.”

I have some experience being
savored
by Ian. Memories
tumble through my mind, including the night during Carnival when he set out to
discover how many times he could make me come. As I recall, he insisted on
feeding me first, before subjecting me to the most wildly erotic experience of
my life.

Or one of them at least. So far.

“I love the sound of that,” I say, just a little nervously. “But
maybe we should have supper first? To keep up our strength?” Still, I can’t
resist another quick look toward the foot of the bed.

He laughs and glances down at his cock straining from the
nest of dark curls at his groin. “Well, in that case--”

He moves so swiftly--an arm wrapped around my waist, a quick
step forward, turning me at the same time, a hand on the nape of my neck and
another on my belly, positioning me and suddenly--

“Purely in the interest of us both being comfortable enough
to actually eat,” he says.

I’m bent over the foot of the bed, just as he promised.
Smooth, cool silk cushions my cheek. His heavily muscled thigh pushes between
mine, widening my stance until my legs are spread far enough to satisfy him.
The tip of his cock nudges my sex open.

I might resent his easy, even sometimes arrogant handling of
my body if I weren’t honest enough to admit how much I enjoy it.

“Tell me you want this,” he says, his chest brushing against
my back. “Otherwise we stop right now and just have supper.”

“Don’t stop,” I murmur, my hands gripping the damask sheets.
Even after my tears in the shower, the tension and stress of the weeks before
our wedding still linger, coiled painfully within me. I’m desperate to exorcise
them.

 “Please, don’t stop!”

He grunts low in his throat but instead of surging into me,
he still goes slowly, feeding me his cock inch by inch. My pussy spasms, trying
to grasp him and draw him in more quickly but he’s having none of that.

A sharp, stinging slap to my ass makes me gasp. “Patience, I
want this to be good for you.”

Good? Is he insane? It’s never been anything other than
beyond great. If I could manage to speak, I’d tell him that. But all I can do
is moan as he thrusts a little way farther into me, withdraws almost
completely, and does the same again, over and over, until I’m writhing in
carnal, animalistic need. My sex is swollen, so slick that I can feel my own
juices running down the inside of my thighs. I’ve reached a peak of arousal so
great that pain and pleasure are becoming indistinguishable.

Finally, I only just manage to draw a breath and cry out,
“Harder!”

He grunts again and arches over me, his teeth grazing the
nape of my neck. “Is that how you want it? Are you sure?”

“Yes! Oh, god, yes!”

“Promise me something,” he demands.

He wants to bargain? Now! “Anything, only please--!”

His cock drives deep, stretching and filling me, and almost
at once is gone again. I sob with emptiness.

“Later, anything I want, anyway I want it. Yes?” he asks.

Anything? Anyway? My mind reels. With Ian, there’s no
telling what that could mean.

“Yes, yes, please!”

His hands grip my hips, his fingers digging in hard. I revel
in his strength and power as my own rises in response, meeting every thrust of
his body with my own, drawing him ever deeper until finally the pleasure
becomes unbearable and I let go, unraveling in an explosion of incandescent
release.

Ian follows quickly, his cock pulsing deep inside me again
and again until, finally, he

slumps over me, driving us both down
onto the bed. We lie there sprawled, our hearts pounding together. His weight
holds me trapped under him but I don’t care. I love how he feels, how he makes me
feel, how we are together.

But far beyond that, I love him.

Heedless of the intimate moment, my stomach growls.

My husband rises, drawing me upward with him. Holding me, my
back against his front, he licks the shell of my ear and murmurs, “Food, wife,
and then--”

A long finger eases into my pussy, unerringly finding the
spot where I am so ultrasensitive. Fire licks through my veins as he strokes
me. His voice is low and deep, the hard edge of carnal anticipation softened by
wonder, as he says, “You’ll truly be mine.”

“M
ore?”
Ian asks as he feeds me a sliver of beef from between his fingers. It’s so
tender that it all but melts on my tongue.

I swallow, lick the taste from my lips, and smile at my
husband. “I think I’m full.”

“You’re sure?” His eyes glitter, moving over me. Beneath the
white silk robe I put on before leaving the bedroom, my body stirs. I’m having
trouble looking anywhere other than at him. Bare-chested above low-slung
drawstring pants, he is quite simply magnificent.

We are seated in one of the twin columned galleries that
frame the garden. Nearby, water splashes in the stone fountain. A soft breeze
blows from the south, fragrant with the heavy, sultry scent of the far-off
tropics.

The light from hanging lanterns ripples in the deep red
cabernet we are drinking. I take a sip, savoring the full, ripe taste, and gaze
at Ian over the rim of my glass.

“It was all delicious,” I say. The invisible, ultra-discreet
staff outdid itself. The supper that awaited us was perfect, one exquisite
delicacy after another, a feast of sensual temptations. I’m pleasantly replete
but nervous anticipation still flutters in my belly.

Anything he wants .Anyway he wants it.

My anxiousness increases as a contemplate the secret that
I’ve kept from Ian. It trembles on my lips, begging to be shared. I’m on the
verge of blurting it out when he says, “Then if you’re done--” He rises and
holds out his hand.

I take it, of course, but he must feel the tension in me. A
slight frown mars his brow. “Amelia, you must know, we will never, ever do
anything that you don’t want.”

“I know--” Even to my own ears, my voice sounds unnaturally
high and breathy.

Anxious to leave no doubt in his mind, I move closer and lay
the palm of my hand on his bare chest, just above where his heart beats.

“I trust you completely, Ian. It’s just that what you make
me want can be quite overwhelming.”

My candor is rewarded when he smiles. “I feel the same way,
sweetheart. I lose myself in you.”

His simple honesty is just the reassurance I need. Obeying
an irresistible impulse, I touch my lips to his, surprised as I always am by
how hard his mouth can look yet how tender it can be. The tip of my tongue
slips past the ridge of his teeth and tangles with his. The taste of him fills
me--the tart flavor of the wine that we’ve enjoyed mingling with a hint of
herbs and citrus, all surpassed by the intrinsic, intimate flavor of Ian
himself.

Shivers of pleasure ripple through me. Breath to breath, I
drink him in. He makes a low sound in his throat and wraps a steely arm around
me. His hand cups my chin, his fingers stroking and claiming all at once. The
kiss deepens until nothing else exists for me, only his taste and touch, and
the pulsing need to have more of him, all of him, everything he has to give.

When we finally break apart, the raging fire in his eyes matches
mine. Swiftly, I take his hand and ask, “The bedroom then, husband? Or did you
have somewhere else in mind?”

He laughs--a sound of such pure enjoyment that I wish I
could hear it forever--and once again lifts me effortlessly in his arms. I
twine mine around his neck, relishing his strength.

“Turns out that I’m a traditionalist,” he says as he carries
me from the gallery. “At least I am when it comes to wedding nights. The bedroom
it is.”

By the time we reach there, I am quivering with the potent
combination of anticipation and desire that he is so very good at igniting. My
nipples are so hard that even the light silk of the robe covering them feels
heavy and rough. I stifle a moan as I imagine Ian sucking me through the
fabric, drawing me into his mouth, biting--

He sets me down near the bed and undoes the belt of my robe,
pulling it free of the loops. My eyes widen as he grasps both ends of the
narrow length of white silk and winds them around his hands before yanking the
fabric taut.

His eyes are shards of burning amber as they rake over me. “Take
off the rest,” he says.

I obey, letting the garment slither down my body to pool on
the floor. The air feels suddenly cool against my overheated skin. The shadows
in the room accentuate the hard planes of his face. He looks as he did the
first time I saw him--powerful, indomitable, determined.

“Get on the bed, on your back.”

The mattress is high enough that I have to climb onto it. As
I do so, Ian sucks in his breath. I glance over my shoulder and flush. In my
naked state, he’s getting quite a view.

Trying my best to put aside all vestiges of
self-consciousness, I do as he says and stretch out on the bed. A moment later,
he joins me there.

“Fold your legs up,” he instructs. “Bent at the knee.”

I take a breath and do so. In this position, my knees are
level with my ears and my heels touch my buttocks.

“I want you to stay like this,” Ian says. “And to assure that
you do--”

Swiftly, he ties the silk belt into a loop, slips it over
one of my legs to the knee, around the back of my neck, and over to my other
knee. My hands fall away as I realize that trussed up as I suddenly am, I can’t
straighten my legs.

Instinctively, I try to draw them together but Ian stops me.
With a palm to each of my inner thighs, he pushes them apart until I am fully
exposed.

“I want to see you,” he says gruffly.

Aside from the narrow strip of dark hair at the apex of my
thighs, I’m completely bare. There is nothing to conceal the lips of my sex, my
clit, my opening and more.

Ian’s breath is becoming harsher. “You have such a gorgeous
cunt,” he says. “Pink, smooth, glistening. I can’t wait to taste you.”

The blunt sensuality of his words makes me clench. I stare
at him as he reaches over to the small table beside the bed and opens a drawer.
My eyes widen at the sight of a black silk blindfold.

He pauses before slipping it over my head. “All right?” he
asks.

Silently, I nod. As the world goes dark, Ian says, “Relax,
baby. I’m going to make this so good for you.”

Everything in me clenches at that promise. I don’t doubt for
a moment that he’ll keep it.

His fingers close around one of my ankles, holding me in
place. Something that feels like a small metal wheel with prongs runs along the
sole of my foot. The sensation--poised between pain and pleasure--makes my toes
curl tightly. I fall back against the pillows with a groan as I realize that
there was more in the drawer than just the blindfold.

He applies the wheel to the bottoms of both my feet, up the
insides of my legs, and over the curves of my buttocks. Drawn up as I am, my skin
pulled taut, I’m especially sensitive. Very quickly, I’m panting.

Ian chuckles softly. “You like that. We’ll have to use it
again but for now--” I hear the faint clink of the metal as he sets the
devilish little wheel back on the table. My body braces as I wonder what he
will do next.

His fingers skim lightly over the path the wheel took. They
come to rest between the opening of my sex and my anus. As he presses gently, I
gasp. I’m even more sensitive there than I realized.

“Easy,” Ian murmurs. The tip of his thumb circles my opening.
At the same time, his index finger traces the outer band of muscle around my anus.
Slowly, he presses into both, stroking, caressing. The sensation is exquisite.
Pleasure burns through me but I’m still not prepared when suddenly he pinches
his finger and thumb together lightly inside me. Nerve endings I didn’t know I
had flare wildly.

My back bows as I cry out. The edges of a powerful orgasm
are closing in on me. I can feel it building…building…

He pulls back suddenly, leaving me empty and unfulfilled. I
whimper in protest. “
Noooo!”

“Patience.” His voice is teasing but low and rough enough to
tell me that he’s far from unaffected.

I gasp as I feel the touch of cool, wet lube against my ass.
It’s followed by something metallic, hard, and smooth with a tapered point. The
realization of what he intends makes me groan. As I squirm to accept the butt
plug, I wonder if it’s the same one he used at Carnival, set with an aquamarine
stone that matches my eyes.

“Beautiful,” Ian says when the plug is fully seated inside
me. He twists it slowly.

I whimper at the exquisite feeling and gasp. “Please!”

 “In time, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his breath warm against
the lips of my sex. “But first--”

I hear a soft ‘click’ and suddenly the plug begins to
vibrate. The sensation is so unexpected, not to say shocking that my first
instinct is to struggle. But the moment I begin to do so, Ian soothes me.

“It’s okay, baby. You can handle this. Just let yourself
feel.”

His finger eases inside me, circling the inner walls of my
vagina. Stretched as I am by the vibrating plug, even that single digit seems
to fill me. But he quickly adds another, bringing me up again…higher…so close--

His fingers withdraw. I’m left hanging on the edge, gasping.

“Ian!”

I feel his smile against the tight skin of my abdomen where
muscles ripple. “Frustrated, sweetheart? I promise, when you do come, it will
be worth the wait.”

A tremor of sensual apprehension courses through me. How
long does he intend to keep up this exquisite torment?

“Aahhhhh!”

Without warning, the tip of his tongue flicks over my
swollen clit. Once, again, and yet again before he draws the nub of nerve
endings into his mouth and--

“Ohmygod!”

The nip of Ian’s teeth followed almost instantly by a long,
soothing lick makes every muscle in my body clench. Long, powerful contractions
rack my pussy. He stops, just long enough for me to come down a little, then
begins again, flicking, sucking, licking, biting, over and over. My head
thrashes against the pillows. Desperately, I try at once to press close to him
and to escape. Trussed as I am, with my hips gripped between his hands, I can’t
do either. I can only endure.

When he withdraws again, a sob breaks from me. “Ian, please,
I can’t bear this!”

“You won’t have to, baby,” he says, his voice low and gruff.
He comes over me and to my intense relief, I can feel that he’s removed the
drawstring pants. At the touch of his big, hard body all along mine, I start to
shiver and can’t stop.

His erection lies long, hot, and heavy on my belly. Swiftly,
he undoes the belt holding my legs in place. Just as quickly, I wrap them
around his hips and arch my pelvis.

He guides himself to me, rubbing the length of his cock all
along my bare, swollen slit, coating it with my juices before sliding into me.

A long groan of relief breaks from my throat. This is so
right…so necessary. I should be afraid of how empty I feel without him but
instead I glory in it. My hands grip his back and slide down, cupping his rock
hard buttocks. His muscles flex powerfully in long, rippling strokes as he
thrusts harder, deeper, faster.

This time, there’s no stopping. We climb together, higher
and higher, our bodies straining as one. Brilliant lights pulse behind my eyes.
My chest is so tight that I can scarcely breathe. The heat of his skin burns me
inside and out. I’m unraveling, breaking apart…

My husband reaches behind me and pulls out the butt plug. A
scream tears from me, rising to the golden dome above the bed. Another… My
voice is raw. I’m teetering on the fine line between pain and pleasure. A red
mist moves behind the darkness of the blindfold. Reality falls away and I go
with it, soaring into a thick, feral ecstasy. The long, hard pulses of Ian’s
orgasm extend my own. They are still reverberating in me when consciousness
dissolves and I plummet into blissful oblivion.

When I’m next aware, I’m
stretched out on the bed under a light cover. The blindfold is gone but I don’t
open my eyes, not yet. First, I try moving my limbs. They work well enough for
all that I ache deliciously.

“Welcome back,” a voice murmurs.

I turn my head and meet my
husband’s amber gaze, filled with love and tenderness.

“Hey,” I manage.

He props himself up on one elbow
and studies me “Are you all right?”

“Yes, very. I just don’t think I
can move any time soon.”

His smile speaks volumes about
intense male satisfaction but it also hints at his relief. “Then don’t, babe,”
he says and gathers me to him. His hand trails down my back, over my spine, in
a light, feathery caress that is infinitely soothing. The steady rhythm of his
breath follows me into my dreams.