by DD Prince
He’s looking down into mine.
His thumb grazes my cheek and he wipes a lone tear away. It’s a happy tear. A hopeful tear.
“I love you,” I tell him. “And I do want all of you. Every bit.” For a split second, I regret saying it. Will his mood shift again?
He lets out a breath, “That’s the problem. You’ll have it. And most of it?” He shakes his head. “It ain’t good, Mrs. Romero.”
I snuggle in, goosebumps prickling over my skin everywhere. Mrs. Romero.
But, I don’t believe that. I know I’ve had to endure a lot from him and most girls would’ve closed up and given up long before now, but I just … I don’t want to give up. I feel like I’ve always had a sixth sense about people’s true nature. I feel like I’m right about him. I’ve never doubted it. I know he has demons. I don’t know much more than that. But I see something in him. Something that tells me he needs me to keep believing.
When the song wraps up, after however many minutes of feeling like I’m floating on air, we stop. He passes me my champagne and touches his glass to mine and then he takes a sip. I take one, too.
Another song has already come on and it’s familiar.
“If the sun refused to shine…”
I quickly realize it’s Thank You by Led Zeppelin but this isn’t Led Zeppelin performing it. It’s someone else. A familiar voice. Angie loved loud rock music and loved 70’s acid rock, too, so I’m not unfamiliar. It might be the guy from Sound Garden singing.
This song gives me chills as I absorb the words with new emotions that I’ve never felt while listening to it before. He puts his glass down and then takes mine and sets it down beside his.
He isn’t dancing, he’s just holding me. Looking at me. He then takes my hand and leads me toward the bathroom.
“Not all of anyone is good, Alessandro.”
I look at him with awe as he removes my veil and sets it on the long dark wood dresser outside the bathroom door. He gestures to the bathroom doorway.
“Let’s just enjoy tonight. Figure the rest out later?”
“Deal.” I smile.
“You make a beautiful bride, Holly,” he says.
“You’re the most handsome groom I’ve ever seen,” I return.
He doesn’t smile.
I turn and go into the bathroom and I’m relieved to find the Victoria’s Secret bag my sister had brought me, as well as the toiletries both from my Alaska luggage as well as from what Robert the concierge sent up to the other room. All our things have been moved here and someone has unpacked most of them.
The song is still playing as I take off my wedding gown and hang it on the back of the door. I finger it lovingly and then unwrap the contents of the bag that contains my lingerie.
A white, mostly sheer (other than the breasts) chemise with ruffles and white ruffled French cut panties. Simple and beautiful. Virginal, too.
The song has ended by the time I’ve gotten changed and taken the pins out of my hair. Another slow song comes on but I hear the music go off and I hear him shuffling around. I’d spritzed on a bit of peach body mist and rolled on more deodorant, brushed my teeth, and now I wander out to silence and mostly dimness. He’s blown out all the candles except for ones on the tables on either side of the bed.
He’s in the bed, on top of the blankets.
It’s not even dark yet outside, but you’d never know it because the drapes have been closed and the room is dim. Even still, the candlelight shows how his eyes heat as he sees me.
He gets out of the bed. He’s in sexy black skintight boxer briefs with Versace across the waistband in gold.
He gets to me and lifts me into his arms and then he takes me to the bed and gently lays me on my back.
I wait, chewing my bottom lip. He stands over me, looking at me with a look I’ve never seen on his face. A warm and gentle expression. I’m not scared. I’m in love with the expression on his face. He’s looking at me with appreciation.
His hands touch my ankles. They move upwards, slowly, until they’re at my hips. His hands splay across them, gently. He hooks his fingers into the panties at my hips and gently peels them down, his eyes on mine.
“Alessandro?” I start.
“Knees up,” he whispers, putting the panties to his nose and my tummy flip flops.
I pull them up. The chemise rides up to my belly. He tosses the panties behind him.
He jerks his chin and I know what he wants. But, I have to say something first.
“It’s been more than three months since I had that shot. Dr. Jimena said it’d last three mo---”
“It’s okay,” he assures without changing his expression and does the book opening gesture with his hands. I don’t know if “It’s okay” means I won’t get pregnant or if it’s okay if I do get pregnant.
I throw my arms over my head and then I let my knees very slowly drop, giving him the show he wants.
He is blinking and looking down at me.
His tongue skims across his teeth behind his closed lips and then he reaches down and peels his own underwear down and steps out of them, then puts a knee to the bed.
His knees are between my legs. He leans forward and undoes the single golden toggle that is holding my chemise closed between my breasts. I slip my arms out and return them to above my head.
“You’re perfect,” he tells me, dropping the garment to the floor.
I give him a nervous smile. His words feel like warmth running through me.
“And you’re mine,” he tells me.
I nod.
“Even more mine than before. Before, I decided you were mine. Now, you’ve given yourself to me.”
I nod again.
“Thank you,” he says and I can see it’s with sincerity.
I smile. Goosebumps rise all over me. My heart is so full right now, I don’t think I’ve ever been happier.
“And I’m yours. All of me. Good, bad, everything.”
I smile bigger.
“There isn’t much good.”
My smile twitches.
“In fact, today I’ve mustered up all I’ve got. It’s probably all gonna be used up for... maybe for good.”
“That’s okay,” I keep my smile, but it’s not easy.
He shakes his head. “You don’t know.” And he looks vulnerable. It’s strange. It’s scary to see him like that. I’m more frightened with him looking like this than when I see him angry. This is what he looked like in our limo right after the ceremony.
I swallow.
“It’s okay,” I assure.
“You don’t,” he repeats, “You’ve got no idea what you’ve signed up for.”
He moves up and lines his erection up against my entrance. It’s touching me right at my opening. I don’t move a muscle except for my heart, which is racing. I’m not sure if I’m even breathing.
“I had maybe this much good left, Holly.” His thumb and index finger are two inches apart. “It’s all here in this bed, what’s left of it. I’ve held onto it the way I’ve held onto you. But now, now that I’m about to tarnish you, make my flower wilt,” his lip curls, “That’ll be it. It’ll be all gone. It was saved. Now it’ll be spent.”
“No, it won’t.” I tell him. I reach to touch his face.
He catches my wrist and he holds it roughly.
“It will,” he grinds out.
“Goodness isn’t finite, Alessandro. You don’t have only so much to give…”
He laughs, “Such an optimist. My little wife.”
I blink. His wife.
His eyes warm for a second and then suddenly he looks sour.
I shake my head. “Do you think you won’t want me because I won’t be pure anymore? Because I’ll still be yours, only yours. No one’s touched me but you. And I’m your wife. Your flower. Some flowers bloom over and over in the right environment.”
His expression darkens and he stares at me for a long minute. “You want it? Want the rest of the good? Or you want it saved, Holly?”
His question throws me. But I say, “I want it,” and I say it without hesitation because I know I won’t use it all up.
“Good. Because waiting has been killing me slowly.” He slams his hips forward and enters me hard, fast, to the bottom of me, and the pain is extraordinary.
I gasp and cry out. But as I cry out, his mouth descends and he swallows my cry.
We’re joined. I’m his. Even more his than I was.
I feel this, I feel it straight down to my bone marrow.
He’s still. His lips are against mine. It’s a long moment and I’m feeling so much. So fucking much. He has my hand in marriage, he has my heart, and now my body is his, too --- explicitly his.
I’m feeling the pain. I relax into it. I submit to it. And then it starts to subside.
He lets out a cough and my eyes shoot open wide, because it creates a sensation in me that’s both pain and… not. I see he’s watching me and is expression is dark, pained.
I reach up and stroke his face with my fingers. The pain on his face? I feel it.
He’s so lost. In so much pain. He’s picked me to save him from it, whether he realizes it, is willing to admit it, or not.
I wrap my legs around his, digging my heels a little bit into his behind and he starts to move his hips. The pain ebbs a little. And then it transcends. I close my eyes and absorb it. I breathe slowly through it as it changes into pleasure.
His thumb grazes my nipple and then descends to where we’re joined. He starts to rub his thumb between us, at my clit. The feeling starts to change again and it makes me arch. This feels...amazing.
“Alessandro,” I whisper.
His mouth is on mine again and he’s moving in and out of me, gently. He’s deflowered me beautifully. He’s giving me what I asked for last night. He’s given me that all day long.
He’s mustered all that he can within himself to give me the wedding day I asked for. It means so much. It means everything.
My fingers thread into his hair and I start moving with him. I’m running my fingers through, grabbing his hair almost roughly, kissing him with everything I’ve got.
He rolls, taking me with him, and I’m on top. He’s still inside me and the pain is back. It takes me a second to adjust. It hurts even more this way, him so deep. But I power through when I see the look in his eyes.
He’s looking up at me like I’m… like I’m his world. If I could draw his eyes right now? My God. I’ll never forget how they look in this instant.
I start to rock a little, my knees planted at his sides. My hands are on his beautiful washboard abs and I move them up, over his nipples, to his shoulders. I rub my hands up and down his warm olive skin that’s lightly dusted with hair. It’s sexy. It’s manly. I lean forward and his hands come up from my thighs and are on my breasts.
“Give me your mouth, princesa,” he says and I lean forward and he grabs my hair and kisses me roughly, possessively, and I foolishly hope, beyond my own advice, that this is something I can keep.
Him, holding me, touching me, losing himself in me. Letting me get lost in him, not caring if I’m ever found again.
I have never known a feeling like this in my life. He’s not fucking me; he’s gotten lost in me. He’s making up for denying himself me, denying himself something he wanted --- by making every nerve ending in my body come alive. By making every nerve ending sing, then implode.
How have I gone from being the little girl with no daddy, a drunk mommy, an empty belly, wearing dirty tattered threadbare clothes in the dead of an endless Alaskan winter to finding myself in the arms of this incredibly complex man here in this lavish place? I belong to him. I am his. He saved me, he protected me, and now he has fully and completely claimed me.
And now I'm gonna find a way to save him, too. From himself.
He has put his cock in me. Everywhere. My mouth. My ass. And now used it to deflower me. He is drinking my oxygen away and I look forward to wherever that will take me.
I climax so hard, so big, that I’m on the precipice of a blackout.
I could die this moment and feel like I got something complete. I got it, I got to drink from the Holy Grail or whatever that thing is that life is supposed to be about.
He doesn’t stop. And it doesn’t stop. If anything, seeing that I’m coming spurs him on harder and I am still coming. I keep thinking it can’t get any bigger, but it does. I can’t. I can’t take anymore of it. I could die from coming too hard.
I’m whimpering and bucking, my body out of my control.
He cups me between the legs, squeezes hard, with a grunt, a claiming, ‘yeah, that’s fucking mine’ kind of attitude, and it doesn’t stop me from coming. It just makes everything I’m feeling freeze and then vibrate.
I’m flipped to my belly, he yanks me up by the hips, and then he slams his cock into my pussy once, out, twice, out. This is making my eyes roll back in my head. Then, instead of going in for a third time, he lines up with and then slams into my ass. I screech as he follows through until his pelvis is smacking my lower back dimples. He used my wetness from the front to get into the back and this time, it feels different. It feels almost good. I’ve already come and I’m still buzzing from it, and he’s just still lost in me, taking what he needs.
I can be that for him. The place he can get lost. The place he can be who he truly is, not who he wants others to think he is. This is sex, the thing people pay for, people take, people plead for. But whatever he’s doing to me? It’s not just sex; it’s more. I collapse, falling onto my face.
He keeps going. His fingers find my vagina again and he starts rubbing my clit. I start trembling, hard, my vagina convulsing. And then he comes with a roar inside the back of me, slapping my ass with his palm and then digging his fingers in deep as he roars out his orgasm.
I guess that’s how I’ll be okay. Not get pregnant. The grand finale in the back. I guess I’ll need to get another birth control shot. A fleeting thought of having his babies makes me feel all warm and tingly. Before I give it a chance to completely sink in, he falls onto my back. His full weight is on me and I can feel his heartbeat slamming into my shoulder blades.
He slides out, which hurts, then he rolls off, over, and then over onto his belly. And I roll with him and land directly onto his back and rest my head on his back. My pelvis is on his bum and it’s very comfy. I think I’ll sleep here. Every night for the rest of my life.
I kiss his cheek. I kiss his earlobe. And then I loudly kiss his back and roll over to the other side of him, almost falling off the bed. He grabs for me, saving me from the fall, and I snuggle into his side so that my lips are a breath away from his.
I pucker and his mouth claims mine.
“Beautiful,” he says. “My little Holly.” His hand travels up my face and rests with his fingers woven in at my temple. Pain returns to his face and he chews the inside of his cheek, looking at me with a wondrous expression. He looks almost boyish for a split second.
He shifts us over a little so that I’m not on the edge of the bed any longer.
“That was beautiful,” I say. “I love you so much. Thank you for making that so beautiful for me.”
He rolls to his back and looks at the ceiling.
I climb onto him, wrap my arms around his shoulders, and push my chin into his chest so that I’m looking up at his face.
He kisses the tip of my nose and squeezes me.
“Sleep for a bit.” He takes my hair into his hand and smushes my cheek against his chest. I hear his heart beating strong and sure. A nap sounds good.
I close my eyes and obey my husband.
My husband.
***
I’m vaguely aware of a hand pulling my hands together. The clink and ratcheting sound of handcuffs rents the air as cuffs are slapped on my wrists. I gasp, coming wide awake.
What on earth?
It’s pitch dark around me. Tape is roughly slapped over my mouth and he starts to talk. Low. Gruff. I feel his breath aga
inst my face.
“I’ve emptied what was left of my soul inside of you, mi pequeña flor. It’s yours to keep safe for me, okay? I’ll come back to you and rejoin it as soon as I can.”
He throws something over my head. A dark hood? And then I hear him say, “Take her.”
I’m screaming behind the tape over my mouth and I’m being pulled away from him.
No!
1993
Alessandro
“Papa, why? Why’d you steal Mama from her family and make her marry you?”
“Because, mijo, a real man seizes what he wants. I saw her and knew she’d give me a family. She gave me you. A boy. A strong, smart, handsome boy. So, she gets to be my queen. If you wanna be a man, have a lot of nice things and respect, you seize what you want as yours. Money. Power. Your queen someday when you grow up. You control your destiny, Alessandro. Don’t let no one make you a puppet on some strings. Except your papa. Your papa gives you life. He teaches you to be a man. You respect papa and learn from him how to be a man and then when your papa’s job is done, he goes on to heaven, but he stays with you, inside your head, helping you make the choices to keep you strong. Okay, mijo?”
“Yes, Papa.”
***
Mama is waking me up. It’s dark in my room.
“Come,” she says, “We have to go quickly, my son.” She’s speaking to me in Italian. I know that means I have to move very fast.
Mama only speaks a little Spanish. She talks English or sometimes Italian. She talks mostly to me in English around Papa but she secretly taught me her language and told me never to show Papa that I know it. She tells me if she ever speaks it to me that I should know I must listen and do only what she says. I know what to do. Follow her. Be quiet. Be strong.
We are on vacation with Papa in Disneyland. She takes my hand and holds it and we slip out of the hotel. Papa is asleep on the couch in front of the television. Many empty bottles sit on the table in front of Papa. Some are spilled over.
Mama and me go along the hall and down to the stairs. Not the elevator.
She has a small suitcase and my hand. We go outside. We walk a long time. It’s dark and a little bit cold. I don’t like the cold. Mama tries to carry me when my legs get very tired but I’m too big so she can’t do it for long and I must be strong and walk.