3. The Honeymoon Suite

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~PAIGE MATHEWSON RUSSO~

We are supposed to spend the wedding night at the honeymoon suite of the same resort where we held our wedding and reception. That's what happens when someone who does not even have a break from work wants a wedding in three days. 

I am not pointing fingers. Just stating facts. 

I take a long long breath as I look at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. I huff and look over at my smirking husband through the transparent walls. 

Who comes up with shit like this?

Yes, there's a remote that can opacify the glass. Except the said remote happens to be with the object of my wrath.

I throw him the finger, the same finger I had moved my wedding ring to as a big F-you to my husband and grab a face wipe. Maybe he will run for his life when he sees me without makeup. I start to peacefully remove all the muck on my face but will it be normal for Dante Russo to sit still and let me be at peace? Um... No. 

So he waltzes in to the bathroom and comes to stand behind me.

"What?" I say dryly. 

He bends down and buries his face in my neck, and as much as I hate to admit it, I like it. "You are taking too long." He murmurs before nipping at my neck, his hands moving to the zipper of my dress. 

"I like to take my sweet time." I breathe out, the wipe forgotten in my hand. 

"I think it is me who wants my sweet time with you." He says as he peels my dress off my shoulders and my waist, leaving me in my tight lace corset and thong, the dress falling to the floor in a heap. He moves to the strings on the corset. Tearing off the tight corset feels good. 

I had stuffed all my abundant bounty inside my lace prison the whole day. I may not like the wedding but that does not mean that I want the wedding pictures to come back bad. I always have a point to make to all the 'friends' who 'abandoned' me. 

His hands are on my breasts immediately, as if it is all he had been wanting to do the whole day. It probably is. 

"Am I the only one who is going to be half naked here?" 

"Shh..." He grabs me by my face and kisses me and for the first time he is gentle. As he does it, he picks me up and carries me to the vast four-poster bed that fills the center of the room, with crisp white curtains and silk sheets, and white petals strewn everywhere. 

Dante says nothing stupid as he lowers me to edge of the bed, and kneels down in front of me. And I have to admit that by now, even my annoyance is dissipated off for arousal. From here, his head is at my waist as he drags his tongue along the seam of my skimpy underwear, then up to my belly button. He continues his path up and stands as his tongue reaches a nipple. 

He cups one breast as his tongue laps at the nipple, and I lean into him, stifling a moan. 

"Let your voice out, mia moglie. I want to hear your sweet voice." 

My hands make a move for his pants but he is quicker to stop me with one hand while he trails his other fingers around my hip and dip his fingers into my underwear. He slides them down, brushing over my clit and reaches my entrance.

I am not even surprised at how wet I am as I feel his finger inside me, and then two.  

"Yes," I hiss, and my hips move like they have a mind of their own, sliding over his fingers. 

"That's my girl!" I hear his voice as he dips down and latches himself to my clit, sucking and lapping at it. 

I close my eyes and throw my head back, my mouth forming a small 'o'. 

"Holy shit!" I am close. I am going to explode onto his face. Just when I am ready to let go, he stops. 

I open my eyes, opening my mouth to ask what's wrong but is silenced by his lips on mine. I can taste my wetness on his tongue. 

I hear the zipper and then he is inside me, his fullness stretching my insides.  

He pulls out again and slides back into me, and I am here trying to memorize the feel of his skin sliding along mine and the way my muscles grip him as he enters me. 

"Yes, God yes." I moan out.

He pounds into me, each thrust perfectly calculated. Taking his delicious lips away from me, he wraps his arms around me and pulls me up with him, sitting up on the bed with me bouncing on him. 

I come apart immediately as the change in position hits my deepest recesses but he doesn't stop. 

I throw my head back as the ecstasy becomes too much to take but I also cannot bring out the words to ask him to stop 

"Slow down." I finally say.

He grits his teeth and increase the pace instead, triggering another orgasm within a couple of thrusts. My muscles are clenching and releasing rhythmically, and I am bucking my hips wildly against his. He waits for me to ride out every second of this orgasm, and then he moves his hands to both my hips, pulling me down to him over and over as he spills everything he has into me. 

We collapse back onto the bed, Dante on top of me, his cock buried deep inside me. I want to ask him to move but I let it be for now. 

.

.

.

I wake up to his cock inside me.

I gasp as I open my eyes, taking in the deep forest greens of his as he pounds into me, sweat beading his forehead.

He still has his shirt on. He had not taken it off in the total of three times we had sex. And not even now.

As a moan escapes my mouth, the pleasure almost erases my train of thoughts, but I hold onto it and open my mouth to ask him, only for it to be covered my his.

Dante grabs my hips and collapses on top of me, his cock writhing inside me as he shoots his fourth load in me within less than twelve hours.

I whimper. I am less unsatisfied.

But I don't push him. I am not in the mood for banter. I am in the mood to enjoy the serenity of the morning.

As I lie there, gently running my fingers through his thick black curls, I become aware that we have not been using protection.

"Dante." I say.

"Yes, mia moglie?" He face is nuzzled into the crook of my neck.

"We forgot protection." I say, my voice breezy.

"We are married. And doing it raw is more fun." He murmurs.

"But..."

He sighs as he pushes him off of me, holding himself up with his both hands on either side of my head. "I have got you pills." He says. "Chill."

There is no Italian accent but the voice in the corner of my brain tells me that there is nothing to chill about.

Why is there such a feeling?

I guess that's what happens when you get married to a total stranger.

He places a kiss on my lips. "I need to get ready for work."

My eyes widen.

"Shit!"

I move too quickly and our head bumps but I don't stop moving as I push a groaning husband off of me and hop off the bed.

"Where are you off to, my naked bunny?" There's sheer amusement in his voice. I turn to him and give him the finger.

"I have an appointment with an interior designer today for something I am working on." I say as I make my way to the bathroom, not bothering to close the door.

"But didn't you say you won't be going into the office today?" He asks. I look over at him to see him put on his boxers and pants.

"I won't be. This is a zoom call and she is in another time zone. The only time she has is at eight in the morning." I pick up the orange bottle with my name on it.

I turn to him.

He perks up, something in me tells me he is nervous but he is doing a damn well job to conceal it.

"Relax, I am not going to throw it away. I don't want any children right now." I roll my eyes. "I heard something about having to take the oral contraceptive pills at the same time everyday. So I just wanted to know what time it is."

I watch him nod and look at his phone. "Seven minutes to seven." He says, his voice oddly throaty.

I nod and take a pill and pop it in my mouth, not caring for water. In the mirror, I see Dante let out a sigh of relief.

For someone who doesn't want children, he shows unusual zest in releasing his load in me.

"Can I have some privacy?" I call out. This time though, he does not object and uses the remote to opacify the glass and as I walk over to the close the door, I poke my head out and ask, "Do you want to go first?"

"You have a meeting at eight." He smiles, a genuine sweet smile which makes my heart skip a beat. "You go on in first."

"Or we could go together." I throw the bait at him.

He smirks, getting up and walking over to me, grabbing me by my chin and raising it before placing an open-mouthed kiss on my lips. "Then we both will be late."

I grin at him and pull away and close the door.

The smile on my face dissipates off just like that.

He will not take his shirt off in front of me.

Why?

The first possible explanation is obviously scars.

Did my husband have scars on him?

I walk over to the shower and put it on on scalding hot. I like to torture myself.

If not scars, it could also mean that he just did not want to take his shirt off in front of me?

Why?

I admit that my husband is quite a catch, someone who took my breath away the moment I lay my eyes on him, but that does not necessarily qualify him to act Christian Greyish now does it?

Or it could just be a coincidence. Let's see.

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