Lust

by Victoria Christopher Murray

  “Uh . . . I think you two need to get a room.” Sonia laughed from her seat next to me.

  “Oh, we have a room,” Damon said, as he brushed another piece of shrimp across my lips. “As a matter of fact, I think we need to get to that room right now.”

  “We can’t leave!” I protested like I was astonished, even though I knew Damon was kidding. “We still have the cake.”

  “And don’t you have to dance with the best man?”

  I hated the way I shivered a little, just at the sound of his voice. For the hours that we’d been here, I’d acted like Trey was not. I did my best to keep my voice light, but my eyes . . . I glared at him. “I’m only dancing with my husband tonight.”

  He just laughed: that laugh that was a reminder. Of last night. I had to fight to keep the humiliation from rising within me as I turned back to Damon, making it my turn to feed him.

  When it was time for the toasts, tears filled my eyes when Sonia stood and took us all on a stroll down her memory lane, from the days when we met in seventh grade to how we’d worn purple everything to our first Prince concert at the MCI Center in 2004, to our roommate days at Howard. When she closed with “Deseo tu felicidad,” I wiped away a tear, tapped my hand over my heart, then blew her a kiss, before Damon and I raised our glasses to her good wishes for our happiness.

  Then Trey stood, though I hardly listened to his memories. I wasn’t interested in his history with Damon. So, I sat there, not cracking a single smile at his jokes, but when he got to his closing, I had to raise my glass with everyone else.

  He said, “And, like Sonia, I wish you two all the happiness that you deserve.”

  I leaned forward to click my glass against Damon’s and was a little surprised at the way my husband hesitated. I followed his glance, which was on Trey, a hard stare, as if Trey had said something wrong. But before I could question him, Damon turned to me with a grin and we clicked our glasses together.

  Damon only gave me time for a quick sip of champagne (which my grandfather had approved for the wedding reception) before grabbing my hand and pulling me to the dance floor, right in front of the band.

  We never did get to enjoy the fourth course of steak and lobster, though we did pause to do that traditional cake cutting/feeding/photography thing. But then we were back on the dance floor and partying like it was 1999.

  “I’ve got to take a break!” I laughed at Damon when we’d danced for what I was sure had to be more than an hour straight. “I’m gonna run to the restroom.”

  Damon nodded, but instead of releasing my hand, he pulled me closer. “Okay, but when you come back, get ready to leave, Mrs. King.”

  “What time is it? I thought we had this room until two.”

  He nodded, but said, “It’s just a little after eleven, but I plan to have you upstairs naked and in that bed before the clock strikes midnight.”

  His words brought that flash:

  Me.

  Naked.

  Spread-eagle.

  Waiting.

  Wanting.

  The laughter.

  “Do you know how much I love you?”

  I blinked myself back from that misery, and when I looked into Damon’s eyes, all I saw was his pure love. He pressed his lips against my forehead and I warmed with expectation. The days of abstinence before our wedding had been the right thing. I knew for sure that tonight would be the night with him.

  When Damon leaned back, I leaned forward and kissed him, all tongue, all grinding, making promises of what was to come.

  He moaned when I stepped away. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Hurry,” he whispered.

  I held up my dress, and then through the crowd of friends and family, I maneuvered, smiling, stopping, speaking a few words. I spotted my grandparents on the dance floor, and just as I turned toward them, Trey brushed past me. I stood still, though my eyes followed him, and when he got to one of the exits, he paused, turned, stared, then smiled. He held my gaze for too many seconds before he strutted out of the ballroom.

  It only took me a moment to do a three-sixty scan of the room to make sure that no one noticed that little exchange. I lifted my dress higher, lowered my head, and pressed through the rest of the guests until I was in the hallway.

  Looking to the left, I saw just a glimpse of Trey before he disappeared around a corner.

  I followed, walking for the first few feet, then, I put some pep in my step and almost trotted, making that same turn that Trey did. And I bumped right into him. Hard. He caught me before I fell.

  “What are you doing?” I hissed, pulling away from his hold.

  “Making sure that you don’t fall and make a fool of yourself.”

  “I’ve already done that.”

  Even though I’d snapped at him, he chuckled as if my words pleased him.

  I straightened my dress, then looked around to guarantee that we were alone. When I turned back to him, his eyes were waiting for me. Still dark. Still seductive.

  I sighed. “I need to talk to you.”

  “Talk.” He smiled and took my breath away.

  I was so mad at myself.

  He said, “So . . .”

  That simple word captured me. After all the tears I’d shed and all the promises I’d made, all I wanted to do was to have that feeling again. All I wanted to know was what it would be like to be with him. In every single way.

  I hated myself.

  “Tiffanie?”

  It was everything about this man, down to the way he said my name.

  “Are you going to say something?”

  I leaned in closer so that no one would hear our words. “I just want to make sure that you’re not going to say anything to Damon.”

  Then he did that thing. Licking his lips. From the left . . . to the right. So slowly. And I watched every milli-inch of his movement.

  I had to get away, but I had to know his intentions, too. So, I took a couple of steps back, then crossed my arms as an extra barrier, and waited for his answer.

  It seemed to take him forever to formulate his thoughts, but finally, he said, “Do you want me to tell him?”

  I wished my glare were filled with heat—the same kind of heat that warmed me whenever I was near him. Then, with just my eyes, I could set him on fire and make him burn in that place that was thousands of millions of miles south of heaven. “Of course not. I don’t want you to ever say anything to Damon. This isn’t a game, Trey, and this isn’t a joke.”

  “Do you see me laughing?” He did that licking-lips thing.

  And I had that waiting . . . wanting memory again. Only this time, in my mind, he finished what he’d started. This time he took off his clothes and lay on top of me. He licked his lips. And then . . . he licked me.

  Oh. My. God.

  What was happening?

  “I just need”—I had to take my eyes off of his lips to ­continue—“for you to give it to me straight.”

  “Okay.” He stepped closer, breaking the space barrier that I’d built between us. But I kept my arms folded. “You want it straight? Here it is—straight, no chaser, as your husband would say: I’m not saying a word to Damon.”

  I breathed or at least I tried to, but it was difficult with him all up in my space this way.

  He said, “Why would I do that and mess up this good thing?”

  “What?” I folded my arms tighter. “You don’t have a good thing with me.”

  “Oh, yes, I do. I have a very good thing. Because this is what I know—I can have you at any time and in any way that I want.” His glance started at my feet and strolled up my body, at the same speed that he used his tongue. He paused on certain places, as if he were imagining what I looked like beneath this wedding gown. Only he didn’t have to do much imagining.

  When his eyes met mine, my
breath caught in my throat. Then he stepped even closer, if that was possible. So close that I almost felt his lips; I wanted to taste his lips.

  With the tips of his fingers, he lifted my chin. “I want you, Tiff.” He didn’t even lower his voice.

  My hands dropped to my sides.

  He said, “I’m just waiting for the right time.”

  He held me in place, with his fingers and with his stare. When he’d made his point, he dropped his hand and walked away.

  All I heard was the beating of my heart, pounding so loud I was sure that the sound filled the entire hotel. I felt sick, but not in my stomach. My pain was in my head and my heart. Because of the throbbing between my legs. The throbbing that was for the wrong man.

  “I have lost my mind,” I whispered as I leaned back against the wall and closed my eyes.

  Just a moment later, I felt him and my heart quickened again. I opened my eyes.

  But it wasn’t him.

  I looked into Sonia’s eyes.

  She held the same stance that I had just minutes before. Arms folded. Eyes glaring.

  For a while, we stood there, her eyes filled with disapproval and mine filled with tears. I heard the faint sound of music coming from the ballroom and . . . my heart, doing that pounding thing again.

  Without a word, she whipped around and marched away and I followed her, knowing where she was going, knowing that she wanted an explanation. What I didn’t know was how much she’d seen, how much she’d heard.

  Inside the restroom, Sonia led me to the left, to the lounge away from the stalls. She closed the door, and when she turned back to me, she looked like she wanted to fight.

  “Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

  I was standing in front of the person who knew me best. She was way more than a friend; this woman was my sister. Which meant that any lie I wanted to tell would only prolong the misery.

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  My countenance, my shame didn’t deter her. “Why don’t you start with why you’re having secret meetings with Trey.”

  “It wasn’t like that.” I shook my head. “I just wanted to talk to him to find out what he was going to do. I had to know if he was going to tell Damon.”

  Her arms fell to her side. “I already told you that he wasn’t going to say a word.”

  “I know that’s what you said, I just wanted to know what he had to say.”

  “Maldición, Tiffanie.” She stomped her foot in temper-­tantrum mode. “Don’t you see that you’re playing his game? I heard what he said to you.”

  “Oh, God,” I moaned and fell back onto the wicker love seat.

  “So, are you trying to play this game with him? Are you trying to have an affair? Did you hope to set up your rendezvous? On your wedding day?”

  “No! Of course not.” I couldn’t believe that I was in this restroom, just hours after I’d said ‘I do,’ about to burst into tears because my best friend was making this accusation. “Why would you say that to me?”

  “And why would you be hunched up in some corner with your marido’s best friend? After last night?”

  I squeezed my eyes together, fighting to keep that flash (that came whenever I thought about or heard the words last night) out of my mind.

  “Well?” she said, sounding just like my grandmother when I was little and she was waiting for an explanation for my bad behavior.

  “I already told you why I was talking to him.”

  “Well, this is what I have to tell you.” Her tone was still harsh, still stern, still like my grandmother’s. “Stay away from Trey.”

  “How can I do that? He’s in the ballroom, should I ask him to leave?”

  I thought that was a dumb question, but I thought I was making a point until she said, “If you have to do that, do it. Or, if you and Damon have to leave, do that. Lo que sea, stay away from him for the rest of the night. Is he heading back to Atlanta?”

  I shrugged. “I think so.”

  “You better hope so.”

  “Do you think I want any of this?” I held my hands out, palms up, and my voice trembled with my tears. “I can’t even explain why I’m drawn to him. It’s like an unnatural pull that I can’t control. Like something inside of me just has to do this, even with the risks. And I hate myself for feeling that way every single time.”

  She stood there for a moment, just looking, and then I felt her softening. “Oh, chica.” When she sat down next to me, she wrapped her arm around my shoulders.

  At least that brought me a little bit of relief. My friend was back and she’d console and convince me that everything was going to be all right. But then she asked, “What do you mean every single time? How many times . . .” She stopped, thought, and added, “I thought you said it was just last night.”

  I sighed. “I’m talking about just being around him. Every time I see him.” I paused, wondering if I should say the words aloud, and then I reasoned that I should. Because if I did, I’d take away the power he had over me. So I said, “Every time I see him, I want him.”

  She gave me a long, sideways glance. Then “Damn!”

  “Please don’t start that again!”

  “Lo siento. But really, it’s like that?”

  I nodded and I cried. “Every time. I hate him, but I want him. I want him to make love to me.”

  She shook her head. Said, “Damn,” then held up her hand before I could protest. “This is just lust. Pure, unadulterated lust. And that means that it’s something you can fight.”

  “I want to do that, but how?”

  “By staying away from Trey. Just until the end of the reception, and then when you and Damon hit it tonight . . .” She stopped like that was the explanation and the solution. “Damon will knock that lust for another man right out of you.”

  Sonia thought that she and I were the kind of close that had no secrets. And we were. That close. Except for this one secret. I’d never told her again that Damon couldn’t satisfy me. Because after I told her the first time and she’d been so sure that it would be fine, I didn’t know how to tell her that even after knowing me, nothing good happened. And I’d never been sure if the problem was with me or with Damon.

  But clearly, that question was gone. Trey proved that my body could feel . . . things. And that feeling? I wanted to have it again and again and again and again.

  This would have been the time to tell her, but Sonia stood up, grabbed one of the scented cloths on the counter, and wiped away my tears. Then she returned to my side, took my hands in hers, squeezed them, and assured me, “After tonight, all of the desire that you have for Trey will be gone. I promise you it’s different physically and mentally when the man you’re with is your husband. When the sex is between your ears and between your legs . . .” She paused and waved her hand, cooling herself. “Damon’ll make sure that you’ll never want another man.”

  I nodded, though I didn’t believe a word of her promise. And I hugged her, though all I wanted to do was sit here and cry alone.

  When she pulled me up from the sofa, I went with her. I followed her from the restroom to the ballroom, and I stayed with her as she led me straight to Damon. And then she gave my husband my hand in the same fashion that my grandmother had during our ceremony.

  “I’ve been looking all over for my wife,” he said. He gave Sonia a grateful grin, but then he whispered just to me, “It’s time for us to go upstairs, bae. Time for us to really be man and wife.”

  He sealed his words with a kiss.

  24

  Damon

  Women just don’t know their power.

  Not at all. Because right now, inside this bedroom that glowed with its all-white everything and the flicker of the candlelight that surrounded us, my wife had complete and total control over me.

  My wife.

 
; She hadn’t done anything. Was just sitting there on the edge of the bed. But it was the way she sat, so demure, almost pure, completely perfect.

  And she was all mine.

  Her eyes raised to look at me and I’m telling you, at that moment, I would have given her anything, given her everything. But she already had what I held close; she already had my heart.

  Taking her hand, I lifted her from the bed and as she rose, her eyes never left mine. I kissed her, keeping my desire at bay, just wanting her to feel how much I loved her.

  When she leaned away, her eyes glistened in the candlelight, and the way she looked at me . . . this was love.

  I turned her around and she lowered her head as I reached for the zipper on the back of her dress. My fingers trembled, though of course, it didn’t come from fear. It was just that this was the first time I’d have this woman as my wife. I wanted it to be a time that she’d always remember.

  As I let the zipper go down, down, down, I took a deep inhale of air at her lower back when I saw the top of her thong.

  She turned and faced me, letting me slip the straps from her shoulders. When the dress fell to her waist, she did the rest, doing a little shimmy to slide it over her hips. I took a couple of big steps back so that I could really take in this vision. She stood before me in nothing but her bra, thong, and those stilettos. And I’m telling you, I didn’t know how I was going to hold it. Then she challenged me as a man when she did a little striptease—first her bra, then her thong. Gone. All she wore were those shoes.

  It wasn’t like I hadn’t seen my girl naked, but there was something different, now that I could call her completely mine.

  All I wanted to do was toss her onto the bed and go at it, but these moments before our consummation we’d remember for the rest of our lives. There would only be this first time, so I wanted to stay right here for a while.

  Her hips swayed as she placed one leg in front of the other. One of those sexy model strolls. But I couldn’t really enjoy it because I was nervous about what would come next. If she touched me . . .

  And then she did. With just one hand behind my head, she pulled me to her for another kiss.