Exposed

Chapter Thirty-One

The wedding dress pools on the floor by my feet, landing with a soft breezy thud against the wood planks. The doors and windows are open to allow the warm summer air to circulate the small resort cabin. Matteo stands behind me, his hands moving across my flushed skin without rush. One of the nearby cabins is listening to soft jazz which drifts through the breeze into our room.

Reaching back, my fingers bury into his hair, my breath hitching when his tongue drags along the curve of my throat, his mouth landing just below my ear. A sharp shiver courses when his teeth gently tug on the lobe while his fingers unclasp the thin choker around my neck.

It may be the fact that we haven't touched each other this way since the miscarriage. It may be the fact that we just spent an entire day affirming our love for one another after a rough start to marriage or that I watched my family finally learn to accept the man I chose but I am overflowing with devotion, desperation.

The necklace falls into his hands which he places on the white-washed desk before turning me to face him. My veil is already off and hanging from the doorway but my hair is still full of flowers. While Matteo does take the pins out, making my hair loosen and fall out of the bindings down my back, he doesn't pluck them out.

He clasps my face, kissing me gently at first while my fingers go to work on the buttons of his dress shirt. A man who I rarely see out of formal wear, I am an expert at undressing him out of a tuxedo. I slip the material from his shoulders, my hands grazing the roughly scarred skin covering his torso. The silver healed skin shines against the moonlight, illuminating the trials he's endured to reach this place.

A husband.

A father.

A son-in-law.

A brother-in-law.

A man with a family that would do anything for him.

Once I never would have expected he'd allow himself so much. It reminds me of how far he can push himself, the strength he has inside. He lets me go to remove his shoes and socks, then his pants. I lay gentle kisses to his chest as my fingers push down his briefs, my mouth drifting down his abdomen with the movement. By the time he's stepping out of them, as nude as I am, my lips are drifting along the hard length of him, my hands digging into the back of his thighs.

As I envelop him deep with my mouth, eyes set on the sharp rise and fall of his chest as I take him into me, I prepare to drive him mad, widening my jaw, intent on taking as much of him as I can. His hands bury into my wind-blown locks, grasping on tight as he tilts his head to the ceiling, losing himself by my mouth.

"Fuck, Emma," he gasps as my fingers push into his ass, urging him as close as I can get him. My tongue drifts along his deprived cock, paying time to the thick head leaking pre-cum. His grip begins to tighten as he drags me back up onto my feet, roughly crushing his mouth to my own, guiding me backwards towards the bed.

I fall back, gasping as he climbs on, following me to the pillows. As soon as my head sinks into the plush material, his mouth settles on my calf, sliding up to my knee and back down, covering the length of my thigh until I'm trembling, feeling his warm breath against the most sensitive part of my body. He doesn't immediately lower himself to my sex. He starts by spreading my thighs apart, by kissing the soft skin of my inner thighs, teasing my lips with his tongue.

He does it until I can't breathe, until I'm begging him to spare me.

When he does, sinking his tongue into my folds, nudging my clit before taking it between his lips, suckling, my hips lift off the mattress, strong gasps breaking through my mouth. My hand comes down on his skull, pressuring him to continue because I think I'd die if he stopped.

He inserts one finger, then two into my snug canal, flicking them within me to locate the spot that will ease me effortlessly into orgasm. Knowing my body better than I do, it doesn't take him long to bring me to the brink. Thrusting his fingers in and out, his mouth buried in my sweetness, he relentlessly devotes himself to my budding pleasure, enduring my thrashing about, my tugging of his hair. I begin to quiver under his attention, my sex clenching around his fingers, building and building to the height of the orgasm. I feel it in my belly, tensing my muscles.

I'm close. I moan, losing sight of the planks in the ceiling, my vision blurring as I let go and release the tension, floating up to the clouds.

Matteo's mouth doesn't break away from my clit until I've deflated back into the mattress, his fingers only easing out of me when an explicit of defeat leaves my lips. He catches his breath with his cheek against my thigh and both of us begin to chuckle in our breathlessness.

Those chuckles break into laughter.

Overwhelmed, I lift myself to grasp onto his shoulders, his back as I pull him up between my legs, wrapping my thighs around his hips. His skin is slippery with sweat. So is mine. Our mouths collide ungracefully still humming with laughter, his tongue slipping through my lips, licking deep to let me taste myself upon him.

He wraps his hand around the back of my throat, between the pillow and his other hand curves under my thigh as he settles against me and pushes himself through my sensitive sex, entering me with a single thrust.

Our mouths fall against each other as we gasp at the exquisite fullness.

We don't skip a beat. He rocks into me, moving the rickety bed in the process. Neither of us cares about the noise, about the open windows. He conceals my moans with his mouth, releasing my thigh so that he can drag his hand over my perspiring skin, cupping my breast under his palm. My lower half clenches when he tugs on my hardened nipple, rolling it between two fingers.

"Fuck," I breathe, melting into the sheets.

"Oh god, there's nothing better than this," he moans, "nothing."

He slips out of me and as if I weigh nothing, turns me onto my belly, sliding back into me from behind. My hands grasp onto the sheets, my cheek against the mattress as he fills me to the hilt, until it hurts. I can't keep quiet. He bends over my back, lacing his fingers through my own, pushing them into the mattress deeper, his lips caressing my tender throat.

The hard reassuring feel of his wedding band digs into my flesh, an unfailing reminder of who is devoting himself to me. We've been married for months now, but today feels like a finalization. A bond and vow formed as we sink into each other's warmth, as we surrender to the truth that this is the rest of our lives. This is forever.

"Come with me, baby," he whispers, his fingers surrounding my throat.

I nod, smiling dizzily, filled with awe as my body trembles at his command.