Looking down, Dawn spied a row of buttons along Mallory’s wrist, and internally sighed in relief that she would still get to put a wedding band on her love’s hand. She tried to suppress a giggle at the black gloves, which were a complete surprise to her until this moment. “Then make a queen out of me,” she set the challenge quietly, thinking that only Mallory would hear her.
Apparently, the registrar marrying them did as well, and he blanched and stuttered over the first few lines of the ceremony. That brought gales of laughter from their small gathering of twenty-or-so friends and chosen family, and Dawn had blushed scarlet as she realized that her whispering carried quite far in the peaceful outdoors.
“Whoo! Alright, Dawn!” Serena had shouted, and a new wave of titters broke through the guests.
The happiness and frivolity were contagious, and even Mallory had not been able to resist it. Dawn’s cheeks hurt from smiling so much – from the way Eileen had read a poem she couldn’t remember, and how Mallory knew exactly what to say for her own written vows to make Dawn melt. This she remembered, and would for all time.
“Ego dilecto meo, et dilectus meus mihi,” Mallory promised, tears flowing freely down her sharp cheeks.
Making no move to wipe the tears away, she slid a ring onto Dawn’s finger, where it would stay forever. “I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine.”
Finally, they were alone. With Isla gone with Elisabeth to her hotel, and the guests dispersed, Mallory recited those words with more confidence than ever, and without tears.
Kissing along the back of Dawn’s neck as she unzipped her dress, Mallory said them over and over against her overheated skin. The breathy words did nothing to cool Dawn, but they did send shivers of pleasure down her body as they fanned over her spine. With each inch of her back revealed, the ritual began anew.
Becoming impatient with the heady emotions swirling her heart, Dawn turned around and motioned for Mallory to do the same. To this request, Mallory shook her head and gave a lascivious smile – the one that never failed to make Dawn break out in goose-flesh.
Stepping away, Mallory reached behind her back to expertly unclasp and unzip her own dress. It fell away from her chest, revealing the undergarments, or lack thereof, covering the swell of her breasts.
'Happy Birthday to me,' Dawn thought, transfixed at the new corsetry, and how her wife’s every breath made dusky peaks appear over the edge of the low cut damask and lace.
Wife. The word had elicited giddy feelings earlier in the day, and if Dawn was being honest with herself, nervous excitement. Now, it only served to make her heart race in a different way. All at once, she was flooded with understanding of the devotion that so many wrote sonnets about. It was just a word, and yet—
"Wife," she whispered it, tasting the novelty and sweetness as the endearment rolled over her tongue.
"Yes?" Mallory replied, an amused quirk catching the corner of her smiling lips. She stepped out of the dress as the white silk pooled at her feet, and made to take off the black leather opera gloves she’d worn with it.
Biting her lip in response, Dawn’s mind raced. She wondered why an action so simple as taking off a dress – something she had seen Mallory do a thousand times – some how meant more tonight.
"Leave the gloves on,” Dawn commanded, more forcefully than she’d ever dared. It was a bold move, and her breath hitched in anticipation for what might come of it.
Mallory’s eyes glinted in the dim light of the candles someone had lit on every surface before leaving.
Stalking forward, she blew them out one by one as she passed, until only the few on the dressing table remained. At long last, her slow steps brought her to Dawn once more, and she curved her thumbs inside her frothy gown, at the hip.
Tugging it down ever so gently, Mallory placed a reverent kiss to Dawn’s lips when the dress fell to the floor.
Unlike her wife, Dawn had foregone wearing anything except the sliver of lace that she could hardly call knickers.
Surveying the view with an eyebrow that rose higher and higher, Mallory then leaned over to blow the last of the candles out. “As my Queen wishes,” she acknowledged succinctly.
Dawn pressed her lips together. She had taken the initiative with their lovemaking before, but this was entirely different.
Mallory seemed to sense the hesitation, and reached forward with a gloved hand to caress her cheek. Leaning into the offered comfort, Dawn’s eyelids fluttered closed, and she sighed.
The feather-light touch moved then; stroking down the side of her neck, over the curve of her breasts, and lower. Her desire to see outweighed Dawn’s momentary indecision, and she opened her eyes just in time to see Mallory crouch down to kneel.
“You didn’t laugh this time, not even a little bit,” Dawn praised her, unable to control the tenor of her voice as Mallory ran soft fingertips over the edge of her hips, until they reached the apex of her thighs.
Once at their destination, Mallory’s fingers delved behind the soaked strip of lace covering her.
“Amare…” Mallory reassured her before pressing a thumb more firmly against Dawn’s slick flesh, rubbing in a circular motion until she had brought forth a moan. “One ought never laugh at their Queen, especially when that woman is their wife.”
Gasping as a gloved finger swirled along her entrance, Dawn’s instinct took over. Bolstered by the declaration a moment ago, her hand shot forward to tangle fingers into Mallory’s hair, and she gave a tug.
Mallory looked upwards, her expression passionate and knowing. Leaning in to move the lace aside with her teeth, her mouth then pressed where a hand had been only moments before. “As my Queen wishes,” she repeated, the vibrations sending delicious jolts of pleasure everywhere.
Dawn’s head fell back against the wall, and her hand gripped the silky hair harder yet as she issued forth another command. “Don’t ever stop.”
If this was marriage, then she could become accustomed to it very quickly.
Oh yes, this she could get used to.
Peccatum in Carne: Sins of the Flesh (The Three Sins of Mallory Moore Book 1) Page 45