I step forward and kiss him as I begin unbuttoning his shirt, and he runs his hands softly, reverently up my sides until he cups my breasts.
I bite down on his lower lip as my core clenches and my nipples harden when he brushes his thumbs across them and rolls them between his fingers.
He releases one so I’m able to finish unbuttoning his shirt and pulls his arm free, one then the next. I reach down to unbuckle him, and he pulls my head closer, kissing me harder, as goosebumps cover my body at the connection, the warmth of his skin burning the chill from mine.
Eyes wide open.
He wraps his other arm around me and lifts me. I grab his shoulders when he sweeps his other arm under my knees, lifting me, cradling me in his arms right before laying me down.
I grab his face and pull him down for a kiss, and then it’s all hands and mouths and teeth and tongues until we both can barely breathe. Still eyes wide open, he kisses down my body, every inch, a lick, a kiss.
Now between my legs, he runs his nose across my panties, inhaling, and I swear I feel the beginning of an orgasm.
He sees it too.
Kneeling between my legs, he pulls my panties down. Kneeling at my feet, he unbuckles his belt and pops the button before unzipping his black pants, stands, and pushes them down. The outline of his cock causes my things to clench.
“My God, you’re beautiful.”
And he is. His body, long, ripped, and lean, and when he pushes down his black boxer briefs, my knees shake.
“Are you all right?”
“It’s been a long time. I—”
“You’re not alone in that.” He casually strokes himself. And it is a long stroke. His own hand barely fitting around it kind of stroke.
Stepping out of his pants, still stroking his—fuck you, Carlos—magnificent cock.
Dropping back to his knees on the blanket surrounded by pillows and white flowers, he grabs my ankle. “Every part of you is stunning, mi coroźan. I want to feast on your body.” He kisses my ankle then moves up. Between kisses, he says things, beautiful things that make be burn from the inside out. “Taste you, touch you, make you come, and come with you.”
“Matteo.” I grip the blankets. “I want you so, so bad right now.”
His lips surround my nipples, eyes never leaving mine, and then he moves above me, holding himself up with one hand, the other stroking himself against my entrance. His eyes roll, and he mutters something in Spanish that I don’t catch.
“Matteo, please.”
He presses his lips against mine and whispers, “You never have to ask. It will always be yes.”
Inch by inch, he pushes into me, my body trembling, stretching, burning, as he continues this slow entrance.
He wraps his hand around and hitches up my leg, spreading me farther, giving him more access and the ability to lay above me, between my thighs completely.
“You’re so wet, Tris. So hot. So tight. So perfect.”
His elbows beside my head, I spread my legs farther until he is finally fully seated inside of me.
“My God,” I moan as I arch my back, my nipples pressed against his skin to alleviate the ache.
He rolls his hips once, twice, three times, grinding against me, causing friction to tease my clit.
I wrap my legs around him and begin to move right along with him slowly, so slow, because … God, it feels so good. “You feel so … amazing.”
“You’ll come this way.” He grinds down harder, and my insides clench.
“Mmhmm,” I whimper.
“Good. I love seeing you come.” He grinds against me again. “I want to make you come every day.” He kisses me. “I want to feel just like this.” He pulls out then pushes in harder this time, and electricity begins to pulsate inside of me.
“Like this?” I meet his next thrust.
“Just like this,” he groans, pulling out and thrusting in harder.
And just like that, our bodies find a rhythm, thrusting, grinding, kissing, eyes connected, seeing each other’s pleasure, our bodies seemingly knowing each other’s next move, and connect in a way that is … incredible.
He cups my tit, stroking his thumb over my aching, hard nipple, and then he squeezes, rolling it between his fingers, again and again, and again.
His thrusts hasten as we look at each other. I know he sees it before I even cry out, “I’m gonna—”
My back arches, and I cry out as an orgasm rolls through me.
He pushes up on his hands and continues thrusting in and out, one leading to another, and the third. My God, the third is met with his.
Matteo rolls to his back, bringing me with him, and whispers, “I gave you my heart, Tris, pledged my forever. Now I give you my soul.”
“I love you so much. I am so—”
He sits up and wraps his arms around me, kissing me hard, then whispers, “You are so late for your own reception. What will the guests think?”
Smiling against his lips, I say, “Knowing that crew, they’ll think we came out here to consummate our marriage.”
Smiling, he picks something out of my hair. “You are my family, and now, so are they. And that is all the family I want and need.”
I search his eyes for something—sadness, anger—yet I see nothing but contentment and happiness. “Same, Mr. Arias.”
He smiles. “Thank you, Mrs. Arias.”
I wrap my arms around him and hug him tightly, like Dad gives hugs. “I love you so freaking much.”
High
Matteo
Walking hand in hand back to the place that Tris chose as our wedding venue, I can tell she’s high, and my God, its beautiful.
I know that it isn’t likely to last for a long time, but I will take it when it comes, and I will also take the low times, too, even if someday she gets angry with me. I’m man enough to see it and understand it.
While adjusting to my medication switch, I read an exuberant amount of research on the subject, because it is important that, when I do leave this world, she and everyone around her, her family and friends, can see in her eyes what I do.
This mental health diagnosis is not a sentence. To me, it’s truly a gift. She feels deeply, and it saddens me that she shoulders the burden of how she presumes those around her perceive her.
The fact that she has had to endure all that she has in such a short amount of time hurts my heart, and it is obvious that it hurts those around her, too. But the fact that she faces things, practically begging for a diagnosis so that she cannot feel so alone in it, and make peace with people … Marcello, so that she can grow past those things.
I have also been seeing Marley alone to better understand how to help her.
There is no question in my mind that Tris was given to me as a gift. She’s shown me love. Love that is not forced or attached to dollars or status … or bloodlines. I will make sure to give her that back in spades and love her through her highs and lows, through ever moment we have.
She squeezes my hand as we near everyone. “You’re quiet. Do you need to go back and rest?”
I squeeze hers back and tell her, “No, and if we were to return, I can assure you rest wouldn’t be what I’d be wanting to do.”
Quickly, she switches directions. “I’m down.”