Chapter Three Saraya's POV

The intensity of the emotions his touches geared in me was disarming. I jerked up as his soft lips closed around my left nipple and at the same time he used his hands to frame and caressed my middle. Trailing his open palm over my flat stomach to the small of my back while he suckled the beaded bud gently but insistently. My entire core quivered with pleasure. I ran my fingers through his rich, full hair, enjoying the silky, soft feel of it and him. He grunted and cupped my ass, lifting me up and making me widen my legs for him so his big form could fit in between them.  When he drew back from me so he could pull down my panties, I cried in protest, “No! Don’t go!” 

"I'm yours, Saraya, I'm not going anywhere," a manly voice replied, sounding deep and alluring.

His lips touched and trailed down my navel, making my skin burn and tingle. When he latched his mouth to my clit an intense jolt of pleasure made me cry out. 

"Dane!" 

My eyelids flicked open and I lay panting with my chest heaving on my bed, staring up at my white ceiling, naked and alone – again. Tears blurred my vision. I shook delicately as I cried.

"Please, God, make it stop…" I whispered in prayer as I balled up on my bed. The feeling of profound loss gnawed at me. My body ached and shook from the unfulfilled need geared by the phantom who persisted in dominating my dream. 

***

It was Jamie's idea to put our wedding date a day after my twenty-fifth birthday.  His excuse was for us to create some sort of double celebration later on,  but I figured it was just a gimmick to ensure he never forgets our wedding anniversaries. 

Just like me, he also grew up in an orphanage, and celebrating birthdays was not something we were used to. Understandably, he grew up blanking the special day out of his memory but I was the exact opposite. Perhaps it was because I was an artist -- a creative soul and a dreamer to boot. I love celebrating my birthday and after we met at university and began to date, I made sure I celebrated with him too. He often acted like he was humouring me,  but I could tell he enjoy the attention I gave him on his special day. 

Celebrating my birthday on the eve of our wedding was tasking this year though. My lips stretched in a smile. With the preparations and all, Jamie had found a way to make it special nonetheless. In his bid to respect the tradition of not seeing the bride a day before the wedding, he had planned a private party for two at a swanky rooftop restaurant in the middle of Manhattan on the eve of my birthday.  It was a thoughtful gesture that truly warmed my heart.  His ability for careful planning and attention to my emotions and needs was one of the reasons I agreed to the nuptial. Although sparks don't fly when he touched or kissed me, he was my best friend and the perfect partner any woman could dream of. 

I figured the love and passion lacking on my side would develop in time.  Jamie was good-looking and a good man, there was no reason not to fall for him. A treacherous voice reminded me I hadn’t thus far, but I shook it off. Jamie was exactly what I needed to brave the future. 

The memory of the dream of me having consuming, steamy sex with my hazel-eye phantom flashed in my head and I shook my entire frame visibly. ‘No!’ I thought vehemently. Jamie is my reality. And I'm certain when it is time to be physical, I will love every minute of it. Yes, that's exactly what I need. Perhaps then the experience would stop the damning dreams. 

"Are you okay?" an older man who had come to stand by the door to the church asked with a concerned gaze levelled at me. I went very still, wondering what had made him ask that particular question. Throwing him a big smile,  I nodded. He wore a priest vestment and I assumed he must be one of the church leaders. He was of average height and his grey hair was cut low to his skull. He looked in his late fifties and I figured he couldn’t be more than sixty. He had kind green eyes and was smartly dressed.  I wondered if he was part of the ones to officiate my wedding. 

"Just getting ready!" I said, my voice sounding squeaky. He nodded with a warm smile. 

"Wedding jitters, huh? Don't worry it would pass in a bit," he said in a knowing voice, and I nodded hesitantly, drawing in a deep breath. 

"Ready?" he asked as he gestured to the closed door. 

"Yes!" I replied with an overbright gusto that didn’t quite reach my heart and didn’t move from the spot. 

"Are you going in alone?" he asked looking down the hallway behind me.

"I'm an orphan, and so is my fiancé. It's okay…" I replied in a faint voice, bobbing my head. He gave me a warm smile.  

"I just came back from officiating a wedding in a couples’ home. I’m pastor Paul Winters. Would you mind if I … walk you in?" he asked with his eyes gleaming with a wealth of knowledge. My eyes welled with tears. He didn't wait for me to reply before reaching for one of my hands and making me slip it through his looped arm. I nodded my gratitude. He patted the back of my hand, giving me a smile before pushing the double door open. The first melodious key of the traditional wedding song to usher in the bride echoed loudly in the expansive space. We didn’t have many invites – just a few friends from work and old college friends. They were about ten in number and occupied the first two benches on the right side of the pew. All of them stood up and turned to watch me walk in. A few waved excitedly at me. I plaster a big smile on my face. Mighty glad now that I wasn’t walking in alone. 

“Thank you for doing this…” I said under my breath, leaning into him so he could hear me. 

“It’s okay. I am glad I get to walk a beautiful bride down the aisle in my lifetime,” he replied and I threw him a side glance. I thought that was sad. “I don’t have any family of my own—” he explained.

“I’m lucky to have you do this for me then,” I replied. He smiled. 

Jamie beamed at me when we got close enough for the pastor to offer him my hand.  He took it with a gentle nod, giving the older man a quick glance. I was certain he would be wondering what that was about. But before the pastor could leave, I drew back from Jamie to stop him. He was taller than me; I’m guessing exactly six feet. I stretched up to press a kiss to his temple. His smile brightened and he nodded at me. 

“God bless you, child,” he muttered before walking away. Jamie helped me up the three flights of stairs to the altar. His eyes darted hurriedly in their sockets as he searched my gaze under my wedding veil. I giggled, infected by his enthusiasm. He looked really good in his traditional groom suit. The black tuxedo and white undershirt clung to his trim frame. His beautiful light, blonde hair was combed back with no strand out of place. His lovely blue eyes were animated with glee.

A priest with a more ceremonial vestment came to stand by us and we both turned to acknowledge him. He gave us both a warm, fatherly smile, readying himself, and asked Jamie to lift up my veil. He did so with a happy grin. 

“Ready?” Jamie asked in a soft whisper. I nodded. 

The priest cleared his throat and began the ceremony. Five seconds after, the double door to the church was forcefully pushed open. The loud, intrusive sound caused the entire church to go silent and turn in that direction. An impossibly tall, broad-shouldered, muscular man strode in. He wore an all-black getup with a hoodie concealing his face, but when he was about halfway through the aisle, he flicked back his hood. A gasp rented the air from the altar. I was certain every single hair on my skin stood on end. The priest standing by us backed off and the rest standing behind immediately dropped to their knees, bowing their heads on the carpeted floor. Murmurings of prayer hummed in the background.