Chapter 25 - Winter Wedding #24
KIRSTIE
“Kirstie, you’re strangling me.”
Indeed, my new husband is quite pink around the face and I release my hold on his tie.
“Thank you.” But he’sughing. “Where did you acquire your cavewoman skills?”
“Just taking my caveman into my caveir.” And I’mughing too.
He takes me by the shoulders, kisses my forehead. “You’re okay? Really okay?”
“Yes, really okay. How about you?”
He grimaces, scratching at the back of his head. “Richard had a point. No-one’s going to forget this
wedding.” He stands back, looks me down. “‘Fraid the dress is a bit of a disaster zone.”
“Hmmm, yes, but I think that’s the end of my aspirations to meringue-hood.”
“Less of a meringue. More of an Eton Mess. Come on, let’s get you out of it. I have an urge to get my
new wife naked.” He fiddles with the ties at the back of the corset, loosening them. I sway back and
forth as he tugs them loose, then free.
“Sorry this is taking a while. The cord’s got sshed with pine resin somehow. It’s all knotted together.”
“Cut through them.”
“You sure of that? The dress…”
“I’m sure.”
“If you say so. Um…” He casts around… “Ah, yes. Letter knife.”
I hear him puffing air behind me as he struggles with the inadequate knife to free me from the corset.
“You know, there was a time when, after the wedding, the friends of the bride would undress her and
get her into bed and waiting for the husband. And his friends would get him ready for her. I could never
understand why. But I’m beginning to now… Hah!”
The corset abruptly loosens, then falls away. I step out from the massed skirts and petticoats.
Ryan tilts his head. “There’s suddenly a lot less of you.” He moves close, his hands on my waist,
reeling me in. “You know, when I saw youing up the aisle in that dress, part of me was bursting
with pride. But…” His eyes twinkle… “… another part of me was nning to bend you over the bed and
fuck you wearing it. Then to shoehorn you out of it. Then tie you to the bed with the cords and fuck you
again, spreadeagled.”
This belongs to N?velDrama.Org.
I snuggle into him. “On another asion maybe. How about that bath?”
*****
The bath is already half-filled, brimming with foam. A battalion of bottles of oils and scents cluster on
the side. Champagne sits on ice, set on a silver tray with a single rose and foiled choctes. Candles
light the room. Soft music ys from somewhere.
Pressing my fingers to my mouth. “Oh, Wow…”
Ryan clicks his tongue. “They did a lot in a hurry.”
“That''s what friends are for, I suppose.” I pick up a bottle and sniff - rose oil - then hold it to Ryan’s
nose.
“Hmmm. Nice. Use some if you like. What friends are for? Yes, I''m hearing that phrase a lot today.” He
pops the cork, fills the two flutes with foam, waits a few seconds, then tops up until we have two
sses of primrose pale champagne.
I tip half the bottle of oil into the bath, swish the water around then turn on the hot tap again.
“Don’t make that water too hot.” Ryan waggles his eyebrows at me. “I have ns.”
I waggle back. “All the ingredients for a party all of our own.”
His grin fades, his eyes gleaming dark. Setting the sses on the tiled edge of the bath, he moves
close. His hands resting on the re of my waist to hip, his lips brush over mine.
He pulls back, his eyes locking with mine. “Thank you for marrying me. Thank you for today, even if it
hasn’t been quite what we intended.”
“What we intended was that by the end of the day, you and I would be Mr and Mrs Dougherty. Look,
we’re only partway through, and we’re already there.”
His voice is rough, but his eyes dance. “So we are.” His hands slide around me, tugging me in closer,
pulling me in tighter. One slips up my spine, cupping the back of my head as he presses his mouth to
mine, this time forcing me open. Giving his kiss. Taking mine. Pure passion. Pure heat.
Pure love.
Through the towelling of two robes, his shaft presses to me. I’m growing warm and liquid. “I want my
new husband inside me.”
At least, that’s what I want to say. But his mouth is locked over mine. Speaking isn’t an option. “Hmm
mmm mmm.” I tug at the belt of his robe, unravelling the knot.
Ryan bursts intoughter through the kiss, breaking his death-hold on my mouth. “Aren’t we in a hurry,
then.”
His robe hangs loose but not quite open. I nod down. “You know, that bulge there is spoiling the line of
your clothes. His eyes drop to where the evidence of his passion is making its best attempt to join the
party. “Ever made love in a bath?”
His lips curve and his eyes crinkle. “In fact, no. Have you?”
Ummm…
I settle for prevarication. “It''s going to be a day of firsts, isn’t it. Let’s have a water party.”
He pushes at my robe and it falls open, disying my breasts, my stomach, my loins. His eyes drop,
then lift. He slips it back from my shoulders, but pauses, the robe still clinging. “I love you, Kirstie.
Having you as my wife has been my dream almost since we met. Now, having this, having you, it’s my
Dream Come True.”
I cup his cheek. “My dream as well. Dreams of White Horses, remember? My Knight.”
His mouth works. His eyes grow intense. Then he smiles. “Time for that champagne, I think.”
Water and foam brim now. Ryan holds my hand as I step into the bath. White bubbles wobble their
ripples, weaving scented rainbows under the golden light.
Sitting up to my chest in warm water, Ryan facing me, we sip champagne. “I don’t think I’d realised…”
he says… “…how uptight I was until we got into the water.”
“Feeling better now?”
“Much better. You?”
“Absolutely. Look, I don’t know what they have nned down there…”
“A running buffet in the gym I think…”
“Yes, but it’s still perfect. It’s our day. This is all about you and me.”
He nods and we sit, in silence, letting music and warmth, champagne and foam, soft light and perfume,
and each other, wash away the tension, uncoil taut nerves.
Until…
… I’ve had enough of rxing…
Setting my ss to one side, I flick scented foam. Ryan swipes bubbles from his cheek. His chin lifts
and his eyes crinkle. His ss too is abandoned. “Well?” He tilts his head.
Getting up in the deep bath turns out to be unexpectedly awkward. The surface is slippery and I can’t
get a hold. With an ungainly flop, I twist, then drop, sending a small tsunami of foam sshing over my
husband, but I’m where I want to be: kneeling up, facing him. “About that party…”
Shuffling forward on my knees, I travel his outstretched legs until I straddle him. In our few minutes of
rxation, his shaft has softened, but that’s rapidly correcting itself, pressure burgeoning against my
thigh.
His face level with my breasts, he looks up. “Mrs Dougherty, as your Lord and Master, shouldn''t I be the
one on top?”
“I’m the Bride. You’re a mere groom.”
“And that outweighs everything else, does it?”
“Today, yes.”
“Ah, well…” The rough edge to his voice has faded. Arousal spills through: musical, lyrical… “I''ll just
have to live with that then.”
Surging forward, he grabs for my left breast with a hand, cupping it in his palm. Locking onto the right
with his mouth, he teethes at my nipple, tugging gently, stretching, then releasing it. The nipple
responds by hardening. Even in the warmth of the bath, the are puckers. He plucks at the nipple
with thumb and forefinger, rolling and pinching, his eyes flicking between my breast and my face.
Shooting stars sizzle their way to my sex and with each tug, I yelp.
“That’s a good noise you’re making there,” hements, almost conversationally. “We’d better have
some more of it.” And switching sides, he locks his mouth over my left breast, thumbing at the right.
Teeth gently gripping the nipple, I think he’s swiping over the tip with his tongue. Whatever he’s doing,
something is sparking right through me, sending crazy signals to my sex. But it’s the thumb that’s
driving me nuts, nudging and pushing at flesh already crinkled plump and hard. Warm though the water
is, my pussy is warmer, more fluid, twitching and jumping with every teasing touch.
I’ve got to have him inside me…