To Burn In Brutal Rapture

by Nyla K

  I can’t help the gasp that flees my throat.

  “It was wrong… I know,” he goes on, eyes etched with so many emotions. “And I never would’ve actually known that I felt something until the next time you kissed me… on my wedding day. My body reacted to you, like an explosion. It was so overwhelming, I didn’t know what to think. And you told me that you saw me…”

  He closes his eyes for a moment, and all I can do is stand there, gaping up at him in silence.

  “That was when I started falling for you,” his fingers run along my jaw. “I didn’t know it then, but it was. And when I found you at that club, I fell even harder. I was so confused about it, baby, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize what you’ve known since you were so much younger…”

  My lip quivers and I bite it. He tugs it between his fingers and the faintest dimple pokes out.

  “The night I took your virginity… I was lost to you. Because you made everything feel good. Like the joy was stronger than the pain ever could be.” His brows zip together and he glances away from me for a moment. “And then… your dad…”

  Pressure builds behind my eyes, and I squeeze them closed before the tears can sneak out.

  “When I told you the truth, and you told me you loved me anyway, that you would love me, despite how imperfect we are, even because of it…” He huffs and shakes his head. “That night solidified what I always knew. What I was too stubborn, or skeptical, or too scared to believe. All these moments, Traci… They showed me that there was a reason for it all. I came back for you.”

  “Lazarus,” I whimper and grab his arm before I topple over, spinning at his words and every emotion dancing through my vision.

  “I didn’t kneel last time,” he murmurs. My wide eyes stick to his. “Because it wasn’t real…”

  Then he drops onto one knee. And the whole damn world stands still.

  “This is real, Trix,” he speaks from down there, and clears his throat. I can see him shaking, but I’m shaking, too. I don’t understand what’s happening right now… “You’re the only thing I see, baby.”

  He finally lifts his right hand, holding out a small black leather box. A little square that makes me burst into hysterical tears before he even opens it.

  “Don’t cry, Little Trick,” he chuckles softly. “I need to ask you something.”

  “Oh my God, what the hell…” My extremities are trembling as I cover my face. He laughs again.

  “Are you alright? I haven’t even asked yet…”

  I blink at his gorgeous face, eyes wide and nervous, on his fucking knees.

  Lazarus Weston is kneeling for me.

  Holy shit… This is really happening.

  “I’m sorry,” I whimper, tears streaming down my cheeks. “Ask. Please ask…”

  He smiles and bites his lip to smother it. “Tracien Layla Wright… You mesmerize me, baby. Being with you is how it feels to burn in brutal rapture. Will you please marry me?”

  I’m having a fucking meltdown as he opens the box, and a strangled cry flies from my mouth.

  It’s my mom’s ring. My mother’s engagement ring. But it looks different…

  There are other stones around it, what looks like amethyst, sapphire, and opal.

  Tearing my eyes away from the stunning ring, I look at Lazarus.

  He’s perfect. Kneeling for me, with a ring, gray eyes pleading, something I never thought I would see. But everything he’s said is bouncing around in my brain and it solidifies that this was never just a crush.

  This was real, from the beginning. Every fucked up step led us here… Every brutal loss, every cut, scrape and drop of blood shed for this dazzlingly perfect rapture.

  And without a single shred of doubt in my heart, I breathe the words, “Yes. Yes yes yes, Lazarus Weston. Of course I will marry you.”

  He sighs out hard and drops his head for a moment, in what looks like relief, which makes me cry harder.

  “Really?” He peers up at me, grabbing me by the waist and resting his head on my stomach. “You really will?”

  “Lazarus, I’ve wanted to marry you since I was like thirteen,” I giggle through my tears and he rumbles a laugh.

  “You make me so fucking happy, Little Trick.” He removes the ring from its box. “I can’t wait to make you my bride.”

  I physically can’t stop shaking or crying as he slips the ring onto my finger and we both stare at it.

  “This ring was with his things…” Lazarus says. “I was going to give it to you as it was, but then that night you overhead me talking to him… That night when we talked about our future, I realized that I needed to make it our own. This is us, Tracien. I’ve wanted to ask you for a while, but I needed to figure out what me and you look like, outside of them. Now I know. I see it, baby.”

  “You do?” I fall onto his lap and drape my arms around his shoulders, gazing at my beautiful, unique ring while he holds me to him by my waist.

  He nods. “They brought us together… And now we’re going to soar on our own.”

  I weep into his neck, inhaling deep breaths as his heart pounds into me.

  He’s right. We wouldn’t be here without them, but now we get to be us.

  I harbored guilt over it for a while, and I know Lazarus did, too. But everything happened for a reason, painful or not. It brought us to this moment, right now.

  Engaged.

  I’m crying so hard, Lazarus has to rock me to calm me down.

  He whispers in my ear, “I love you so much, baby.”

  “I can’t believe you just asked me to marry you,” I finally blurt out, and he chuckles. Pulling back, I wiggle my finger before us. “This ring is so beautiful, baby.”

  “Isn’t it?” He kisses my finger and I swoon so hard I could pass out.

  “You know I wear her wedding band, right?” I ask, showing him my right hand, where my mom’s wedding band rests on my index finger. “I used to wear it on my thumb when I was younger, but now it goes here.”

  He smiles at me and kisses my lips. “I know.”

  My heart is overflowing. I can’t even fathom what’s happened here tonight. I’m blown away.

  If this is a dream, please don’t ever wake me.

  “You pay attention to a lot more than I give you credit for,” I whimper, and he chuckles.

  “It’s okay, Trix. You have the rest of our lives to make it up to me,” he grins through the endless kisses we’re giving each other, slow, sensual, and full of love.

  Way back when, I was just a girl in love with an older man she wasn’t supposed to have.

  Now that man is going to be my husband.

  Together, we broke the curse…

  And now we fucking rise.

  Epilogue

  Lazarus

  If someone had told me two years ago that my wedding would fall through, I probably wouldn’t have been all that shocked.

  But if that same person had also told me I’d end up marrying my best friend’s daughter, I would ask what kinds of psychedelics they’re on, and if they have any more.

  Today, Tracien Wright and I are standing on the beach, beneath a pink sunset and an arch made of bamboo and tropical flowers, while a pastor binds us in holy matrimony.

  I only proposed two weeks ago, but we didn’t want to wait. We were both so mother-loving excited to get married to each other we decided to tie the knot alone on the beach across from our home, with a guy playing acoustic guitar serving as a witness.

  I have to say, nothing has ever felt this right.

  I’ve always been something of a loner which is probably a nice way of putting it. And after facing so much tragedy in my life, I just want to settle into my future with the one person who truly brought me back from my own personal malediction.

  My wife.

  The ceremony is short and sweet. We read our vows to each other, pledging love and support, fidelity and honesty, communication and selflessness. I promise Traci that I will be every sing
le thing she needs in a partner, a lover, and a friend. And she promises me that she will honor and cherish me for who I am.

  We slip rings onto one another’s fingers as symbols of undying love, in sickness and health, for richer or poorer, in good times and bad, in joy and pain…

  As long as we both shall live.

  “I do.”

  And we kiss.

  Actually, we kiss kiss kiss, until the pastor has to clear his throat. It just makes us both giggle.

  The sun dips beneath the ocean while I clutch my young wife’s hand in mine, gazing at her in all her glowing beauty; flowing strapless white dress and a crown of flowers atop her wild mane of sandy blonde hair.

  We stay out on the beach for hours as man and wife, watching the waves roll, the peaceful harmonious sounds lulling me into a trance.

  That is, until Traci crawls onto my lap.

  “We’re married,” she whispers, loosening my tie.

  “Yes, we are.” My fingers sneak beneath the material of her dress to feel her velvety soft skin.

  “You’re my husband,” she purrs over my mouth, unbuttoning my shirt enough to slink her fingers inside and caress my chest.

  “Mmm… You’re my wife,” I nip her lower lip until she mewls.

  “Say my name,” she pleads, grinding on me in slow motion.

  “Traci Weston,” I grin, giving myself goosebumps over how damn good that sounds.

  She lets out a soft moan. “God, yes.”

  “You want to play with your husband, Mrs. Weston?” I don’t let her answer before tugging the front of her dress down enough to expose one of her gorgeous, perky handful tits. Leaning in, my tongue swirls around her sweet little nipple and she gasps.

  “Yes, Mr. Weston,” her hand slithers between us to cover my erection. “Your wife wants to claim her wedding night reward.”

  A growly chuckle leaves my lips while worshipping her perfect breasts with my mouth.

  “I don’t think I can make it inside,” I hum, and maneuver her panties down her legs. “Let’s consummate right here.”

  She laughs quietly, ripping my hair at the strands. “I think that’s illegal.”

  “I think I don’t give a fuck.”

  She giggles again. “Neither do I. Plus, we’ve already fucked in the water. What difference does it make if we do it on dry land, where everyone can plainly see exactly what we’re doing?”

  I think she’s being sarcastic, but it doesn’t stop her from pulling my aching cock out of my pants and rubbing the arousal seeping from her body all over it.

  “Well, then… let’s give them something to talk about,” I yank her down on my dick and she squeals, softly.

  “God, I love you so hard, husband,” she groans, kissing me crazy.

  “I love you just as hard, wife.”

  Since every day of the last eight months of our lives have basically been a honeymoon, Traci and I decided to keep it low key after the wedding.

  Or so she thinks.

  I convinced her to take two weeks off from the studio so we could have a stay-cation, when really I plan on surprising her later.

  Not telling. You’ll see.

  Today, we’re going scuba diving for the first time since we moved here. I know it sounds crazy, since one of the main things Traci said she wanted to do as soon as we got here was go scuba diving. But what with finding a house, remodeling said house, moving, starting a business, and humping each other’s brains out on the regular, we actually haven’t had all that much time for extracurricular activities.

  That’s about to change. Because my wife has been dying to go scuba diving and my primary goal in life is to make her happy.

  So here we are. We just completed the paperwork and the final safety class, and we’re getting suited up in all the necessary equipment. I’m helping Traci fasten her foot flipper thingies, and I can’t help but notice the smile of a borderline insane person on her face.

  “What do you have to smile about, Mrs. Trix?” I smirk, running my fingers up her thigh.

  “I still can’t believe I’m married to you,” she bats her eyelashes at my face. “You’re my godfather.”

  “Does that make you feel dirty?” I rumble, to which she bites her lip.

  “Everything about you makes me feel dirty.” I have to laugh at that. “No, but seriously. When I was thirteen, I never imagined in a million years that I would actually marry you. I wanted to, but I didn’t think it was possible…”

  “Trust me, neither did I,” I hum, taking her chin in my fingers and placing a soft kiss on her full lips.

  When we pull apart, I note the scuba instructor, who’s giving us a look. It’s not overly judgy, though I wouldn’t exactly care either way.

  I have no doubts or insecurities about my wife being younger. To be honest, it hasn’t hung me up in a long time. Is it weird to be forty-one with a wife who can’t even drink legally yet?

  Sure. But I’m a weird guy. Always have been.

  Plus, living on this island, we get to be ourselves. We’re private people and we spend most of our time together. Traci likes to hang out with some people from the studio, all of whom are used to our age-gap by now. Most of them are in their late twenties, early thirties. Obviously Traci can pass for at least legal drinking age, since no one even thinks twice about offering her alcohol. But she doesn’t drink anyway, so it’s never a problem.

  And apparently I don’t look like I’m in my forties, which I have to appreciate.

  The key thing is that we just don’t care.

  I know it’s not normal to love someone so much younger than me, and I know it’s even less normal to love someone who’s practically like family to me. Someone I held as a baby…

  Someone whose father was the first, and only, other unspoken love of my life.

  But I don’t care about normal. I don’t care what people see when they look at us, because when I look at Traci, I see an entire world I never would have seen if it weren’t for her.

  Traci’s endless love for me opened my eyes.

  It brought me back to life… again.

  So the long and short of it is that I’m in love, and the only thing that matters to me is keeping my bride smiling and laughing at all times.

  And touching me. She loves touching me.

  “You’re the hottest husband who’s ever existed,” Traci purrs, wrapping her legs around me from where she’s sitting, on the adjacent seat of the boat we’re in, floating in the clear waters, waiting to dive and explore all kinds of exciting Little Mermaid-like adventures.

  “Behave, woman,” I growl. “We’re here because you’ve been talking about scuba diving with me for what feels like an eternity. Stop flirting with your husband and get your ass in the damn water.”

  “Rawr,” she grins, snatching the mask out of my grip before I can hand it to her. “Yes sir, Mr. Scary Spice.”

  “That’s it,” I huff. “I’m not going with you unless you tell me what that nickname means. It’s been two years, I think I’ve waited long enough.”

  Folding my arms over my chest, I lift my brow, letting her know I mean business. Fortunately for me, I think the fact that I’m only wearing some fitted black swim trunks is working in my favor, because she can’t stop staring at my chest.

  I mean, the feeling is mutual, but still.

  Her grin widens as she shakes her head. “It’s really stupid…”

  “Nothing you say or do is stupid, baby,” I tell her truthfully which makes her awww, to which I roll my eyes.

  “Well, I call you Scary Spice, because you’re scary,” she chuckles. “You’ve always scared me a little… Probably more so before we started sleeping together.” This makes me grin. “You’re just a scary guy. And the rest is… kind of embarrassing. But you know how I love the Spice Girls because they were Mom’s favorite group growing up, and she used to play them nonstop?”

  I nod along, suddenly fascinated by her story.

  “There was one night when
I was thirteen, I came downstairs and saw you in the kitchen in only your boxers. I had my headphones in and I was listening to this Spice Girls song, 2 Become 1, about making love. I knew what it meant, but only in an abstract way. But that night I saw you… I mean, really saw you. As scary as you were, you were so beautiful. Older, bigger, and forbidden… Seeing you and hearing the lyrics to that song together, that’s when I realized how badly I wanted you.” She pauses and her eyes dart away. “Maybe I always had, on some level…”

  I’m speechless. The nickname is ridiculous, but I’m barely even thinking about that anymore. I just can’t believe that was the night she began to see me differently…

  That night.

  That fucking night.

  Something that feels like a vacuum sucks all the air out of my lungs and leaves my chest tight. I blink at Traci’s face, watching her closely and studying her features for any sign of Damien. I need it right now…

  And of course I find it. The shape of her nose, her cheekbones, her chin; the way she sometimes touches her tongue to her top teeth while she’s thinking. Hell, even the way she talks. In many ways, Tracien has always been a little Ophelia clone, but I also happen to believe she speaks and acts like Damien more often than not.

  Breaking myself out of my trance, I grab her face in my hands. Her wide eyes set on mine and for a moment I consider whether I should voice what’s on my mind right now.

  In the interest of open communication and no secrets in our new marriage, I green-light it.

  “That was the night you fell for me?” I ask quietly, to which she nods. My heart lurches again. I really just can’t fucking believe it… “Tracien, that night…”

  My voice trails, and I blink slowly. I can’t say it… This is all so trippy.

  Thankfully, my wife knows what’s in my heart without me having to voice it, and her eyes widen even more, lips parting in shock.

  “That night…” she breathes, my weary gaze locking on hers. “That was the night…?”

  I nod. And she releases a steady breath. But before I can panic about any of my many insecurities, she launches herself at me, hugging onto my shoulders as hard as her compact frame can manage, fingers slinking into my hair.