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“Not in bed you weren’t.”
“That’s different.”
I sighed. “I’ll be right outside.” I kissed the top of her head. Grabbing a washcloth from the linen closet that smelled like old lady soap, I stood outside the door. As soon as I heard the toilet flush, I came in.
“Oh, my God, Gus. Hold on.”
I turned on the tap to let the water run warm. With the cloth wet, I knelt behind her at her feet. Decca watched me, a smile playing at her lips.
“Spread your legs.”
With gentle strokes, I attended to my precious wife. The woman worth more than rubies. She’d taken a lot tonight. Not just my dick, but the orgasms, the instructions, the talking. It was a big change in our relationship. I didn’t know if she’d regret it tomorrow. If she regretted it already.
My cock still felt the echoes of her pussy. My brain still drowsy and loopy from the thrill of being inside her.
She said nothing as I cleaned her, but to me, she was in her element, leaning against the sink basin with legs spread wide, hands resting on the porcelain edge.
There was no room to hide herself. No shame. Not in her, the way she studied my face with the smirk of a queen. Not in me supplicating myself before her, kneeling on the hard tiles of the bathroom floor and looking adoringly into her eyes in the mirror.
Decca
I stretched my handout next to me between the sheets.
Cold, but rumpled and slept in.
Well, maybe notslept, but Gus had stayed in our bed last night. He’d woken me again and again during the night and this morning, to fuck, and feel, and kiss, and cuddle all the parts of a woman that had been forbidden to him for so long.
All the parts of me.
His celibacy had been a levee, holding back his desire, but only just. Once he’d cracked its walls, the storm couldn’t be stopped. He couldn’t get enough. And I drowned on each swell, just as insatiable.
This was why people went away on honeymoons. Humans were useless once they how good fucking could be. I’d need at least a month before I would want to do anything else.
Gus’s deep baritone floated up, along with the ambient noises of the kitchen, and I slipped a vintage negligee over my head, practically shivering from the feel of the silk slipping against my breasts and floating over my thighs.
I was pleasantly sore between my legs, my every movement a reminder—a reward—that Gus has finally given himself to me completely. On top of that, my body was floating inside a tiny slip of gossamer that tickled my senses and soothed them at the same time, and my husband was baking homemade bread on the floor below. Nothing was better than this.
No wonder Gus had felt the need to repress it for so long.
I brushed my teeth and splashed cool water on my face, failing to regain my composure. I couldn’t stop myself from smiling. So what if the water dripped down my chest and stained this expensive silk? Today I didn’t care.
I tiptoed down the steps, listening to Gus’s prayers floating up to me.
“In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit,” he intoned in Greek. Certain things were repeated often enough in church and his prayers for me to catch onto their rhythm.
I loved the burnished depth of his voice when he prayed. The way he started the phrases on a lower pitch and scooped up to the right note. It wasn’t proper choral singing. I knew that much from high school choir, but Gus told me it was the ancient methodology of Orthodox chant. There was no note, no word, no embellishment in the canon that wasn’t crafted for metaphor.
Every sound was a prayer in itself.
I meditated as he prayed, standing unseen at the bottom of the steps. With my eyes closed, I prayed to God, to the Universe, to the swirl of the air around me, the simplest words of gratitude.
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
Opening my eyes again, I swung around the hallway and couldn’t help but dance into the kitchen. It was like all my muscles and tissues had evaporated and my bones could disarticulate, but insteadof falling into a heap on the white pine floors, they performed a skeletal ballet across the kitchen.
“I’m sorry if I woke you,” Gus said, holding a match to a piece of charcoal.
I floated up to him, inhaling the scent of frankincense as he spooned the resin onto the coal.
