The Marriage Dare

“I love you, Monica,” he says, thrusting deep. “I’m going to keep fucking you until you know.”

“I know,” I say, gasping. “I know. But please don’t stop.”

He chuckles, low and dark. “Never.”

Daniel fucks me. And he doesn’t hold back. Every ounce of strength and frustration and love and lust is powered into his movement. All I can do is take it. Another orgasm explodes through me, and I scream again. This one isn’t muffled, and I don’t give a shit. I’m seeing stars and rainbows and the whole damn universe behind my eyes as the pleasure burns me alive. And it doesn’t stop.

Every thrust of his cock goes all the way to my core, and he grunts with every thrust. He’s close, and I’m still there, coming over and over again until I think I’m drowning in it.

I feel it when he comes, burying himself to the hilt and pouring heat straight into me. I fall into one last orgasm, groaning as Daniel does too. We’re falling together, and that’s the point. We’re together, and we always will be. I know it. I feel it.

We’re both shaking and sweating now, and I’m not sure if my legs will support me. “Tell me you know,” Daniel says, voice fierce in my ear. “Tell me you’re sure.”

He lets me up and pulls me with him, though he has to keep me upright. “I know,” I say. “I believe you, and I love you too.”

And an idea is brewing in my mind that I think he’s going to love, and that might help smooth over things with his parents. “Good.”

He tucks himself back into his pants, and helps me arrange my clothes. “Let’s go.”

“Where?”

He kisses me hard. “Upstairs. I don’t plan on us sleeping for a long time, and we haven’t eaten dinner. Maybe I’ll eat it off you instead.”

I laugh, because it feels so easy and so natural for Daniel to be tugging me toward the door and up to our suite. It feels perfect when he pins me against the elevator and continues to ruin my already ruined lipstick. And it feels like forever when we tumble into bed and get lost in each other again.

15

Daniel

“Yeah,” I say. “That’s perfect, thank you.”

I hang up, and feel some measure of relief. That was the vineyard in Southern California where Monica and I have decided to host our wedding. Things were up in the air, but now it’s finalized. Monica loves the venue, and I was willing to put a lot on the line to make it happen for her.

I’m sitting back at my desk, when I hear a knock at the door. I look over, and speak of the devil, it’s my wife. I can’t keep the smile off my face any more than I can keep myself in my chair. I spring up and I’m across the room before she can close the door behind her. I catch her in a kiss, and I love the way she melts into my arms. She kisses me back, and suddenly I wish that we weren’t in my office.

It’s only been a couple of days since the confrontation with my parents, and nothing has changed. I can’t keep my hands off this woman, and I love her more than life itself. I reach down and hold her hands in mine, feeling for her wedding ring. “Hi, wife.”

She’s grinning when I pull away. “Hello husband.”

“How are you?” I notice now that she has a package in her hands. It’s wrapped up like a gift, in bright blue paper. “What’s that?”

“I’m good,” she says. “I just saw the first sketches of the dress from Alex, and it’s beautiful. And this,” she says, holding out the present, “is for you.”

“How’s the dress?”

Monica rolls her eyes. “As if I’m going to tell you that. No bad luck.”

I laugh. “I am hoping that you and I have had all but bad luck that we’re going to have, Princess.”

“Me too.” She blushes. “Don’t you want to open your gift?”

I pull Monica over to the couch in my office, and we sit together. “Why did you get me a gift?” I ask.

“I think that will be answered after you open it,” she says.

And so I do. I tear off the paper and reveal a simple white box. Lifting the lid, absolutely everything goes still. It’s like the world goes quiet for a second. Lying inside the box is a Game Boy.

But it’s not just any Game Boy. It’s the exact same kind. The same model I had that day when she tossed into the street.

The punch of emotion in my gut is not something I entirely expect. It brings up that memory, and the pain behind it. And though I’ve moved on, it’s still a strong visual for me. “Why?” I ask.