Chapter 6: Hmm, That's So Good!

Tara

The wedding has just been celebrated. Everything went exactly as I hoped. I even managed to steal a kiss from my sister's two husbands they were surprised by my fervor. Their lips are full, firm… hmm, she's going to enjoy herself. I watched them while my own husband placed a chaste kiss on my sister's head. He's not happy about this marriage: he avoids all contact. Clearly, I'll have to move to Plan B. But I'll wait until the last moment; if the sight of his beautiful body doesn't soften his aversion to me, I'll have other methods.

All day, we danced, played, ate. I tried several times to initiate a dance with him, in vain. I understand better why Daddy wished me "good luck." I don't consider myself defeated yet.

Tonight, as everywhere else, the parents are pushing us to "consummate" the marriage. After the wedding night, some choose to stay, others go on honeymoon abroad. Here, tradition dictates that we stay a week, then each returns to their family unless decided otherwise.

We enter the bridal suite. My mother locks the door from outside they do this for all the newlyweds; tomorrow morning, they'll come to open it. I turn to him, but he snubs me and heads to the dressing room to change. I need help removing my dress; I follow him.

— Mike, can you help me with my dress?

— No.

This categorical no freezes me. If I can't change, he'll never see my body. I soften, almost plead.

— Please, I need your help.

He gives me a hostile look but finally gives in. I turn my back so he can unbutton the closure. I feel his warm breath on my neck; I shiver. He unbuttons down to the waist: underneath, fine lingerie. His voice is husky:

— I'm done.

Does he desire me as much as I desire him? I turn around and pretend to trip. He catches me; we're so close our lips almost touch. Just as I move to kiss him, he recoils. Damn. I pick up my dress, take it off; he finishes undressing and goes into the shower. For a moment, I consider joining him, but I have a plan. I wait.

He comes out of the shower. I take my turn showering, then come out wrapped in a towel, another wrapped on my hair. He's already in bed, absorbed in his phone. I sit on the other side, dry myself, then drop the towel to take another and hand him the first.

— Please, can you dry my back? I say without looking at him.

I turn my back to him and let him admire the curve of my shoulders. He takes the towel and begins to massage my back slowly. I hand him the lotion; I can tell by the movement under his underwear that he's tense. He sulks:

— I've had enough. I'm not your handyman. I want to rest.

— It's the last favor I'll ask of you, I murmur.

He takes the lotion and starts applying it. His palm is surprisingly soft for a man of his build. I close my eyes and let myself be lulled by this stolen touch. He continues, focused on my skin, as if obsessed.

Then, slowly, I turn toward him. He stops the movement instantly. As I turn, my breasts come within reach of his hand. One gesture would be enough. Without giving him time to think, I throw myself onto his lips. At first he's frozen, then he responds to my kiss with unexpected fervor. Hmm, that's so good! I climb on top… he pushes me away.

I feel a storm of emotions: desire, frustration, power, and defiance. This kiss awakened something in him, and in me. The night is just beginning, and I intend to turn it into a victory.