Except on this one, I didn't wake up dreading the day or wishing it over. In this one, I am so deeply in love with my bride that it should be considered unhealthy. And she, with her bright smile and gleaming eyes, isn't so reluctant anymore.
She's radiant. Beautiful in a way my brain fails to process at times.
I watch her as she walks down the sandy beach, stepping on the rose petals. She's stunning, clad in a floral yellow sundress and sandals. I take her hand when she stops in front of me, and all the panic I've been carrying for days finally fades. She's wearing the emerald necklace I gave her on our wedding day, the gem gleaming brightly in the sunlight.
"Matteo, what is this?" she asks, her flushed cheeks turning to our smiling siblings. "When did they get here?"
"This morning," I say, lifting both of her hands to my lips and kissing her knuckles, brushing my lips over the ring on her finger. "Just in time for our wedding."
"We're married, silly," she giggles.
"This one is for us," I tell her. "The first wedding was for our parents and to bring our families together. This one's for us,lamia amata sposa." My beloved bride. Sofia is that and so much more. I kiss the ring again. "Shall we begin?"
She nods, those pretty green eyes welling with tears. "Yes, I can’t believe you did this," she sniffs. "Let's get married, again."
It all plays out differently from the last one. There is no priest that drones on and on for hours about the sanctity of marriage. Instead, Antonio officiates, keeping it brief. The vows exchanged between us are not read from some piece of paper but spoken from our hearts, and so are the speeches from our siblings. When we have our first dance, my bride is not glaring at me. There are still food and drinks, but this time, there is laughter…
And when the sun sinks to the horizon, there are cheers from our guests when I sweep my wife off her feet and carry her down the beach and to our bungalow. She’s giggling, a little drunk, too, as we tumble into the bed.
“I actually did it,” she says with a smile, grabbing the lapels of my shirt and yanking me down to her. “I actually married for love.”
I reach out and push a strand from her face. “Was that a dream of yours?
She shakes her head. “I wanted to move out of my parents’ home, work on something I was passionate about, and maybe become the fun aunt to a herd of nieces and nephews. I was too afraid of becoming my mother to want marriage for myself.”
I chuckle. “A herd?”
“Well, I have three sisters,” she laughs, pulling my lips down to hers. When I pull back from the kiss, it’s to find her eyes glittering with affection. “But my dreams have changed. Now I want many babies with your eyes and hair and face.”
“We’d better get started then.” My dick is heavy in my pants as I lean down and take her mouth, kissing until we’re both out of breath. I’m aroused and desperate for her—have been from the moment I woke up. “I love you, Sofia Rossi.”
“I love you, Matteo Rossi,” she whispers. Then, we’re tearing at each other’s clothes.
My hands slide under her dress and rip down her panties. She yanks at my shirt, nails scraping up my arms as she grabs onto my shoulders. We’re breathing hard when I line my cock with her wet core and slide home. She screams, her eyes fluttering closed, but like on our wedding day, I need them on me.
“Don’t,” I growl, already moving in and out of her wet tightness. “Look at me, tesoromio. Watch me as I make love to you.”
She nods, those pretty green eyes meeting mine in the haze of passion. And I see no one but her. I feel nothing but her as I rewrite our vows with every thrust into her pussy. I yank her knee to my hip and drive deeper into her, taking her with the violence of a man seeking to reclaim his mate after she was almost stolen from him.
Mine.
“Yours,” she whispers, grabbing my nape and pulling my head down to hers, her mouth seeking mine in a desperate kiss that sends my stomach clenching in pleasure. “Take me, Matteo. Make me yours. Only yours!”
Our lovemaking turns desperate, hungry until I’m not sure who’s more desperate for the other. She’s wet, dripping around my thrusting cock, her hips lifting to meet my thrusts. My love. My bride…
Mine!
Her breath grows uneven, and her thighs begin to tremble with every thrust. I slide my hand between us and strum her clit, craving her orgasm like my next breath. I stroke her clit faster, harder as I drive into her, pumping my cock into her with rough grunts, pushing her closer and closer to the edge.
“Oh God!” she cries out and her back bows off the bed. She’s sobbing, trembling and thrashing under me as she comes. I’m panting, thrusting into her through her orgasm, burying myself deep until my own climax rips through me. My tense muscles bunch before releasing in a shudder. I bury my face in her hair, pumping my seed into her and soaking up her pleasured cries until I’ve poured everything into her.
My heart beats rapidly against hers when my muscles lose tension and go slack on top of her. My cock softens inside ofher, but I don’t completely lose my erection. I never seem to, not around her.
I turn my head and kiss her temple, emotions I didn’t think I could experience flooding me. “I love you, Sofia.” It just feels right to say. “I’ll always love and protect you.”
“Hmm,” she hums sleepily. “I have one condition for our marriage now.”
“Anything.”
