by Amber Burns
“Why is there so much wetness?” She asked, looking down.
“You just had a very, very intense orgasm,” he said, his eyes closed as he lay in the hay next to her, “Sometimes girls ejaculate too.”
They dressed and strolled lazily back to the house, both laughing and blushing when they ran into her dad halfway back to the house. Roy simply smiled and raised an eyebrow at the two of them, then slowly meandered off toward the empty paddocks. All the big animals had been moved, sold no doubt, and only a handful of chickens, and a flock of geese remained.
The first dinner Annabelle cooked on the farm was a chicken Art had left for them, slaughtered and freshly cleaned in the refrigerator. She roasted it and made potatoes and rice, and the three of them ate together in the large kitchen, comfortably gathered around the table as though they always belonged there. Annabelle couldn’t help but love Michel even more in this environment, with his tousled hair, flannel shirt, and worn jeans. It warmed her to see him happy, and she was relieved that he was away from bad influence, drugs and bad people. She could keep him safe, even if it meant saving him from himself.
Once settled, Annabelle started delving into wedding preparations almost immediately, measuring the barn and sending invitations to only two of her mother’s friends and a handful of colleagues she doubted would make the drive up here anyway.
She had baked apple pies the week they arrived on the farm, taking them to the neighbors, and now wrote out invitations for the three couples who lived near them. It had turned out that they lived in a cluster of houses owned by relatively young people, and she thought sharing the wedding might be a good bonding opportunity. Michel did too, and set about finding picnic tables to place around the barn for their casual reception lunch.
Art and Eva arrived three days before, and the place was a happy buzz of activity. Annabelle had a lot of fun doing things herself, even though this would never have been the kind of wedding she’d have had with Malcolm. Everything was turning out perfect for her, relaxed and stress free. She got to kiss Michel in passing, and they stole moments alone wherever they could, much to the delight of the older couple, and at night when they went for walks around the property, disappearing for hours at a time, all they got was an indulgent smile upon their return.
Annabelle did not know that Eva was surprising her with a cake, and kept trying to order one, much to the other woman’s chagrin. She was also unaware of the sneaky decorating of the barn the night before the wedding, when they ensconced her in a luxurious bath in the master suite, and then left her with a masseuse for two hours. Bunting was hung from the barn rafters, and fresh flowers, red roses, carnations, and babies-breath was set out. Speakers were rigged for music, and a set up put in so that guests could play music from their own playlists.
The pastor who would perform the ceremony arrived, and was staying with her father in the guest cottage. All the friends Annabelle had invited had shown up, proving her doubts wrong. They had RSVP’d to her father though, and all of this was a surprise.
Annabelle was expecting a quiet, small ceremony when she went to sleep that night.
***
It was a mad few days, and even more so trying to keep things from Annabelle and not arouse her suspicion. I had made damn sure people arrived only after she was well and truly occupied with being pampered on the opposite end of the house, and at that they stayed mostly with Roy, who luckily had a lot of space. There were also beds set up in the barn loft, thank heavens for warm weather and guests as keen to surprise Anna as I was.
My biggest undertaking was the purchase of the wedding present I wanted to give her, well, us I suppose. I took Art with me to go and look at horses on a local farm, Friesians to be specific. They were beautiful, big and docile animals with beautiful personalities. The two I had my eyes on were already friends, if you could call horses such things. The one was a grey mare, and the other a black as night stallion. The perfect pair, as I knew Anna would take one look at him and fall in love.
Art inspected the animals thoroughly, and also called a vet to check them over. I was scared their breeder would be offended, but this was all standard practice apparently. When they were pronounced fit, we negotiated a price, and even though I was horrified, I bought them.
Next it was off to get tack and saddles fitted, all this being done while anarchy was happening at home mind you. They horses were measured, and the shop promised to deliver to my house. Art fetched the animals and brought them home the night before the wedding, placing them in a paddock furthest from the house.
When I walked into the house to go and have a shower, and fall into bed exhausted, all I wanted to do was hold Annabelle. I was however met in the passage by Eva with a bundle of blankets and pillows, and handed my toiletry kit.
“You can’t see your bride before the wedding day, it’s bad luck,” she said, smiling sweetly.
I opened my mouth to protest, but she beat me to it.
“Plus, you smell like horse, what is she going to think?”
I couldn’t argue, so I shrugged, walked off to the guest bathroom and showered, and slept on the couch, too tired to care, it was comfortable.
16
Annabelle stood facing the mirror in the master bedroom of the house, her hands on her waist. She took a few deep breaths to steady her heartbeat, and tried to calm the doubts she was suddenly having about getting married.
“Michel is a good man. He loves me and will protect me no matter what,” she said these things softly to herself.
As she did this, the door to her bedroom opened with a soft creak and Eva walked in. They had become strange friends since the sale of the property and the move. Annabelle felt a warmth from Eva, a motherly affection that seemed to come quite naturally. The woman now came to stand behind Annabelle, and put her hands on her shoulders. As Annabelle lifted her gaze, she smiled at Eva.
“I am so nervous.” she giggled.
Eva patted her shoulder.
“Oh dear, it is normal to have a few jitters. It’s a big commitment to make, spending forever with one man, but you are marrying a really nice one. Michel seems a good man, a really handsome one at any rate.”
She winked at Annabelle. Annabelle smiled and nodded.
“He is a good man, and I love him. I do love him. It’s just, standing here like this, it reminds me so strongly of being left by Malcolm. When he left me I never thought I’d wear a wedding dress again.” She took a deep breath again. “What if Michel decides to leave me? What will I do if that happens?”
With a measured tone Eva moved around to stand next to Annabelle and handed her the bouquet of white roses.
“Darling, I don’t know him, or you for that matter, particularly well, but I haven’t seen anything in you that would make me think he would leave. He loves you more than I think you know.”
“Thank you Eva, it means a lot to hear that from someone else,” Annabelle said softly, and wiped a stray tear from her eye.
Eva looked at the clock against the wall nearest the door and patted her.
“It’s time!” She said, excitement rising in her voice.
Annabelle freshened her lip gloss and brushed a few strands of hair into place, and then she followed Eva toward the door, toward the beginning of her life as Mrs. Deverroux.
As she walked out of the house and down the steps toward the lawn where they were saying their vows, she heard many people talking, and stopped in her tracks. She turned to look at Eva beside her.
“Why are there so many voices?” She asked, her eyes wide.
Eva smiled mischievously, “Go see for yourself young lady.”
Annabelle turned the corner and gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth and dropping her bouquet to her side when she saw her mom’s friends, her colleagues with their partners, their neighbors, and her dad. Her eyes wandered to the top of the aisle of hay bales, and when she found Michel she smiled widely, and started walking toward him.
The Goldberg variatio
ns started playing in the background, and when she turned to the sound she saw her dad sitting at a piano. He hadn’t played since her mother had died, and that brought tears to her eyes. He nodded to her, gestured to the top of the aisle and Michel, and carried on playing. She walked toward him, tears running down her cheeks freely mingling with laughter on her lips. Michel reached for her hand when she got to him, and kissed her fingers.
“You look breath-taking Anna, beautiful,” he said softly, and then they turned to face the pastor.
He began to speak, and though the blood pounded in her ears, she listened carefully.
“We gather here today…”
After the ceremony, which seemed no more than a blur, the newly married couple jogged down the aisle while being pelted with flower petals. Their guests shouting their congratulations as they passed, and then ran to hide behind the barn. Michel gathered her in his arms and kissed her so hard she got goose bumps.
No sooner did she swoon in his arms than they heard a shutter click, and the photographer said, “Gorgeous, you two are gorgeous!”
He was a flamboyantly dressed man in his mid-thirties, and he now came walking up to them as Michel released Anna’s lips, still holding her pinned against the barn wall. Her hair was wild, her cheeks flushed, and tulle flew around them both as she hid her face under his chin. The photographer kept snapping away, and from there, guided them away to finish taking photos.
Michel interrupted him an hour later to take Annabelle to the paddock farthest from the house, and watched her face as she caught sight of the two horses. She turned to him.
“Michel, what is this?” She asked softly, opening the gate and walking slowly toward the black stallion.
He followed her, and when she reached the large horse, standing taller than her by a head, he answered.
“It’s a wedding gift, he is yours, and she,” he said, pointing toward the grey who walked sedately toward them. “Is mine.”
Annabelle reached up and placed her hand on his soft velvety muzzle, laughing as he snorted into her palm, nudging her.
“He is a handsome boy,” she whispered, “So big.”
Michel placed his arms around her waist.
“Best you be careful, I might get jealous if you pay too much attention to him today.”
They left the paddock and made their way back to the barn, which now stood open, and again Annabelle found herself with tears on her cheeks.
“I am crying too much today, luckily it’s all happiness that seems to be leaking from my eyes.”
She giggled and walked in, looking around at the bunting, flowers, and then seeing the cake. Everybody started applauding, and then Ed Sheeran’s ‘Give me love’ started playing. Michel swept her onto a cleared space, spinning her into their first dance.
“Hey Mrs. Deverroux, I cannot wait to take you to bed tonight…” He whispered in her ear as he pulled her close.
She smiled, “Hmm, husband of mine, neither can I.”
***
I eventually sat down after we had socialized with each group, greeting and mingling. We finally got to eat, picking up plates of the rich pie and salad, with chunks of crusty home-baked bread. I picked up my glass of wine, and looked at my new wife.
She was so beautiful today, glowing and smiling, her hair now wild about her face, loose curls down her back, falling all the way to her waist. My gaze fell to her middle for some reason, she had filled out a bit, and even her breasts were more full. A few flags went up in the back of my mind, we had been having unprotected sex for months now, and though she was on the pill, something nagged at me.
The day seemed to pass swiftly, and before we could blink, guests started standing up to leave. In a flurry of hugs, kisses and farewells, we were left alone. I wanted nothing more than some peace, and took Annabelle back to the house as the sun started to set over the horizon. To my astonishment the house was empty, and candles burned everywhere.
I poured us each a glass of champagne, and though we were mildly tipsy, we stood on the porch, sipping at the sparkling liquid. I slowly unbuttoned the back of Annabelle’s dress, and screened by the wall of the porch I let the dress fall to the floor, marveling at the weight of the fabric. She sighed in relief as the corset around her waist loosened, and we walked back into the house with the mass of white fabric trailing behind her.
In the bedroom I watched her clean her face, standing in front of the basin in her bare feet, stockings reaching up to the middle of her thighs, and white lace lingerie. Her body was ivory pale, milky and soft. Her full breasts peeked over the cups of her bra when she turned to face me as she brushed the knots from her hair, and I watched in awe as the satin waterfall of her hair cascaded over the soft curves.
“You are a sight to behold today,” I whispered, mesmerized by the soft rounding of her belly.
I ran my finger under the waistband of her lace briefs and pulled them away. There was not a hair in sight, and her skin was velvet beneath my hand. I looked over at our bed, covered in new white linen, with creamy flower petals strewn across the top, and gently pushed her in that direction. She giggled shyly as I lay her down and removed her panties, leaving the stockings and bra in place, it added to the air of innocence she seemed to wear so well.
I straightened once to take in the sight of my wife, spread out for me like a banquet, her hair a dark halo around her head and under her back, the candle light picking out the auburn highlights. Her firm breasts were encased in a sheer white lace bra, her knees bent, ivory-stockinged thighs, and between them, that wonderful, smooth sex. I must have licked my lips like a predator before its prey, because she looked nervous. I took off my jacket, lay it aside on a chair, and bent to kneel between her knees, pushing them apart.
She placed a foot over each of my shoulders, and pulled me closer with her legs, which I then pushed wider, revealing the delicate peach of her most intimate being. She mewled softly as I ran a finger up and down the lips, parting them to reveal her moisture coated clitoris and inner labia.
“So juicy for me baby,” I murmured, leaning closer to teasingly lick at the tender little pieces of flesh. She jumped under my tongue, bucking her hips.
“What do you want Anna?” I asked, peering at her over her mons.
I waited for the eye contact that would be so difficult for her to make in this intimate situation, she was still shy. She slowly looked down toward me, her blush a bright pink, extending to her chest.
“Touch me Michel, please,” she said softly, dropping her head back.
She arched her back as I lay a finger on her clit again, running it gently up and down, pressing down a little more with each stroke. She moaned, moving her hips, and I replaced my finger with my mouth, sucking on the now engorged and swollen clit. I tugged at her labia alternately, and felt moisture run down my fingers. I slid first one, then two fingers into her, and felt the muscles deep inside her clench around them. When I found the little spot of skin that was so distinctly different, the G-spot, I rubbed it in slow, small circles, continuing my sucking, licking, and adding a nibble or two on her clit. By now she was clutching at the sheets and her breathing was erratic.
I knew she was close to coming, and wanted it to be a very intense orgasm for her. I didn’t stop, or change what I was doing, I held on through the movement of her hips, and enjoyed the cries that stared issuing from her, the moans. When she came every muscle I think she has in her beautiful pussy contracted around my fingers. I continued stroking her. She cried to God, to me, and to a few saints I think, and then her orgasm filled my mouth.
When I raised my head, licking her one last time, she was coated in a fine sheen of sweat and flushed to a soft glowing pink. Her eyes closed, and her hair wild and plastered to the sides of her face.
I stood, removed the rest of my clothing, and climbed back onto the bed, and turned her on her side. I lay behind her, this was truly one of my favorite positions, I could reach her breasts, hold her, and it was intimate. Annabelle lift
ed a leg, bending it to lie partially on her stomach.
“Come Mich, take me for your pleasure now. I want to feel you inside me,” she whispered.
I slid into her with absolute ease, and reached around to cup her breast in my hand. She moved against me and changed angles so that all the friction was for my pleasure. I thrust slowly, lazily almost. There was no rush, no hurry, I had just married her and had the rest of my life to make love to her. We lay in that position, our movements languid and intensely pleasurable. I felt my own release imminent, and when I came, my arm held her tightly to me. I spilled myself deeply into her. As I moved a last few times she grasped my hand.
“Oh don’t stop.”
She moved a few times more, crying out again in her own second orgasm. We made a right mess of that beautiful white bed, and pulled off the white quilt before crawling under the covers to fall into a comatose sleep.