Laughing through her sobs, she said, “No, I promise, Rome. It’s just…”
“What?”
“This song.” Her eyes met mine, and I knew I still looked just as confused.
“You’re upset because of this song?”
“Not upset.” I watched as she took a deep breath, and I lifted her to the counter, cupping her face so I could see her better as I placed myself between her legs.
“You’re going to have to explain, baby. Why are you crying because of a song?”
“It was my mother’s favorite song. My dad would play it on their wedding anniversary, a kind of tribute, I suppose. It’s kind of a tradition… a good one. I loved it, looked forward to it every year. He did it so I would know my mum in some small way, and you know what? It did make me understand her a little. After Dad died, my grandma continued to do it for them both. And well, when she passed too, it was something I continued doing for myself. When I hear it, it feels like they are all somehow still with me.”
I let myself exhale and pressed my forehead to hers. It was her parents’ wedding anniversary? Fuck. I didn’t know what the hell to say in response, so I simply said, “I love you, baby.”
Brushing a kiss on my lips, she whispered, “I love you too.”
Sting’s “Fields of Gold” played as my wife and I swayed on the spot, happy tears falling from Molly’s eyes. I knew I’d done right by this song. It was meaningful to her, and now it would forever remind her of this day. No words needed to be said, and I knew she would understand why I’d chosen it—I wanted her to feel like her family was here, in some small way.
Our family and friends stood and watched us take our first dance as man and wife and eventually joined us on the floor.
It was perfect.
As the last few bars played out, Molly lifted her head, her hand pressed to my cheek, and she whispered, “Let’s go, Rome. I need to have you alone.”
“Christ, how many damn buttons are on this dress!” I complained as I tried to get my girl naked, the long line of tiny pearl buttons at the back of the dress dangerously close to being ripped apart due to my increasing frustration.
“Hurry,” Molly ordered, her voice rough with need. We were in a private luxury cabin. We picked somewhere off the beaten track, completely secluded, for our first night together as a married couple.
As I unfastened the last button, I pushed the tight dress apart and it fell to the floor.
Fuck. Me.
“Mol, you’re friggin’ killing me,” I groaned as she stood before me in a white lace bustier, tiny white lace panties, white stockings and a friggin’ garter wrapped around her thigh.
Smiling, she asked, “You like?”
“I f**kin’ love!” I croaked, my c**k nearly bursting through the zipper in my damn tight pants. I quickly rid myself of my jacket and shirt, snapping the fly to give my crushed dick some relief.
Molly stood before me, looking like a virginal goddess, and my hands twitched, needing to touch her. “Get on the bed, baby,” I instructed, watching her tight ass as she climbed on the mattress and sat up on her knees, waiting for what came next.
“Lose the bustier.”
With an excited smile, Molly began unhooking the tight contraption. She was pushing her luck, taking her sweet time, and by the playful glint in her eyes, she knew she almost had me at my breaking point.
“Don’t f**k with me, Mol.” I warned. “I’m barely holding it together here.”
Reaching into my boxers, I stroked along my dick. Her wide eyes watched the movement, and with a final pull, the lingerie dropped to the cream-colored bed and her full br**sts were completely on show.
“Touch them,” I growled, pointing to her br**sts. I roved my eyes down her insane body. The only thing left was the stockings, garter belt and the panties. The panties were a problem.
Flushing in excitement, Molly moved her hands over her chest, slowly palming the flesh, tugging on her ni**les, and closing her eyes in pleasure.
I f**king broke.
Marching to the bed, I crawled over Molly, knocking away her hands. “Enough, they’re mine now.”
I cut off her surprised giggle with my lips. I plunged my tongue straight in her mouth and she pushed hers against mine, her fingernails scratching along my back. My hand wandered south and I stroked my fingers over her hip and into the waistband of her panties.
“I need these off,” I said as I broke my lips from Molly’s and shifted until my face was met with the tiny scrap of white lace.