I sink to my knees before her and press my head to her chest, realizing that I’ve never shown such vulnerability to her before. To anyone. Growing up in Oakley, vulnerability gets you killed. We’ve both been shaped by our childhood in the slums, and I realize it again as I feel her steel herself against my words.
Anyway, I’m not crazy. How could she possibly believe mywords after everything I’ve done to her?
At least, I know she cares for me. She won’t concede to anything beyond that, but I’m satisfied that shewouldwant to marry me, if she believed me. The last of my qualms disappear. I’m not truly forcing her into a life she doesn’t want. I’m only forcing her into a life she doesn’t believe is possible.
I sigh, wishing I could find a way to convince her of my feelings for her. But for the moment, it seems, the only way to reach her is through her body.
And even though her mind refuses to believe me, her body is already arching toward me.
Smirking, I lift up her heavy dress, finding her pussy, thankful I didn’t allow her keep her panties.
She’s soaking wet again. I dip a finger into her, while I rub another one against her clit. “Still don’t believe me?”
Her only answer is a moan as I continue to finger her gently, my fingers finding the spots that make her drip with arousal. I toy with her in a way that I know will drive her absolutely crazy, sometimes giving her what she needs, sometimes withholding it.
But I draw it out as long as possible, leading her close to the peak of the wave time and time again, before denying her at the last moment. When I finally let her come, she actually cries out, her entire body shuddering and spasming, before sagging in my arms.
“I’m in love with you,” I whisper, hearing her ragged breath beneath me. “I don’t care if you believe me or not. It’s the truth.”
She looks up at me, and in that instant, I know she does. I don’t know how long she’ll continue to believe it, but I’ll make sure to remind her, forcefully and frequently.
I kiss her once more, and then lift her up so that she lands over my shoulder, shrieking in surprise.
“Damien!” she cries out, struggling in my grasp. “What are you doing? Put me down!”
I pat her bottom, chuckling. “I always keep my promises. Remember?”
I head toward the church, ignoring the priest’s shocked expression at seeing the bride walked down the aisle this way. His job is to marry us, not to judge us. He’s paid enough as it is.
I carry her toward him and set her down beside me. He clears his throat uncomfortably, then begins to intone.
“We gather here today under this church to celebrate the union of Damien Wells and Sarah Conley, standing in the warm glow of love, commitment, and lifelong adventure…”
“Okay, okay,” I grimace, though I note with relief that he got the message to use her new name, as planned. Seraphina Connor will remain legally dead. “Cut to the point.”
“Right. Damien Wells, do you take Sarah Conley to be your lawfully wedded wife, to love and cherish her, until death do you part?”
“I do,” I grunt.
“Sarah Conley, do you take Damien Wells to be your lawfully wedded husband, to love and obey him, until death do you part?”
She wavers, her eyes flitting down under my gaze.
“She does,” I state.
The priest widens his eyes, looking first at her, then at me. “Uh, okay. I now pronounce you man and wife.”
I slip two rings on the fingers of my new wife. The first, an engagement ring with a diamond that must be twice as big as the previous one. The second, a slim gold band that nestles perfectly over it. Then I kiss her hand before drawing her to me and kissing her trembling lips in a passionate way that probably isn’t very church approved.
In fact, the priest reminds me of that fact when he clears his throat again.
I have to prevent myself from punching him in the face, butthat would be a little much, even though Iamthe Devil. Well, not anymore. Right now, I’m a happily married man to a wife who seems… not quite as happy as me. I glance down and see her cheeks are wet.
“Enough,” I hiss, “or I’ll punish you right here in the chapel.”
She hastily wipes away her tears and gulps down the sobs that are welling up in her chest. I grab her by the arm and guide her none too gently out of the place, and back into the cottage that’s been transformed in our absence by my chauffeur. Five-tiered cake, flowers everywhere, lacy decorations. It’s all a bit much for just the two of us, but I wanted her to have that experience.
When we enter the small house, she hangs back, gaping.
