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Painfully so.
“You’re such a bad girl, Del, taunting me like that.” She grins at me and gasps as I slam inside her slight body again.
“Yes, right there!” Her cries fill the cabin as I pinch her clit, and she sails into oblivion. I follow a minute after, pulling out to see her ass take my cum and watch it slide down into her slit. “Fuck, that’s an erotic sight,” I grunt, sliding my hand up and down my dick to get it all out. Rubbing the leftovers into her skin, I slip a couple of fingers into her pussy and rub her g-spot until she’s screaming and creaming all over me.
“Stop, Holy, stop, please!” Della’s begging is the cherry on top. I wring one more out of her, enjoying the tears on her cheeks because she’s so fucking sensitive.
Spinning her around, I lift her up and carry her to the shower. “Sorry, baby, but those orgasms of yours are highly addicting.”
“Whatever,” she grumbles into my throat, too wrung out to move as we step into the water spray. “Still can’t believe you didn’t even ask.” I grin as she taps her fingers against my back.
“Would you have had another answer other than yes?” Leaning her against the wall, I begin to wash her hair as she closes her eyes.
“No.”
“Stop complaining, then.”
“I’m not. Just pointing out the obvious.” She hides her amusement outwardly, but the emotion buzzes between us.
“I know, baby. Big wedding, though.” She lifts one eyelid to watch me. “I mean it.”
“I don’t care about the wedding, Holy.”
“Could have fooled me.” She swats my chest as I rinse her hair before she starts washing mine. I still haven’t let her feet hit the tub.
“How do we have a wedding when we’re already wearing the rings?” It’s unconventional, to be sure, but I want the world to know we’ve claimed each other. This seemed the best option. In my opinion, anyway.
“We haven’t said any vows, signed any papers. Your Dad hasn’t given you to me.” She finally relents and agrees with me. After we finish showering, I take her back to bed where we sleep most of the day before making love all night again and head back home in the morning.
We’re greeted with little surprise about our engagement and much enthusiasm over planning another wedding so soon after Malice and Odette’s. Happiness radiates from Della, and there’s nothing I want more than that for the rest of our lives.
Epilogue
DELLA
Three Years Later.
Breathing through the tears is excruciating. This wasn’t the outcome any of us were expecting. Little Betty James was a four-year-old with a curious nature who made me happier than I ever thought possible.
She was diagnosed with an incurable brain tumor, and for months, I’ve been gradually trying to heal her, but my efforts have been in vain because this morning, in her mother’s arms, she lost her battle, and I haven’t been able to breathe since.
“Baby, come on, you need to get some air.” Holy hasn’t taken his hands off me since we learned the news.
I allow my husband to guide me outside to the car. I don’t ask where we’re going because I just don’t care. I feel broken…lost. About two years ago, I asked Selena to assist me in getting a volunteer position at the children’s hospital so I could use my extraordinary gift to help the vulnerable of our world. This is the first time I’ve been unsuccessful. Sometimes, I’m able to heal them in hours; others may take days or weeks, but none have been as severe as Betty.
“You know it’s not your fault, right?” Holy says, but I can’t help but feel like it is.
I don’t respond; I just lean my head against the cool window and close my eyes as he drives. I’m not sure how much time has passed, but when the car stops, I sit up and look out.
“Holy,” I gasp when I notice where we are.
This past week, there was an ice sculpture contest happening here, and Betty and I spoke a lot about it. She filled me in on her desire to do one with her dad when she was better, and now, I can’t curb the tears when they fall as Holy opens my door and offers me a hand.
It’s not often it gets cold enough for these kinds of events, but I’m so grateful this year it was. “Come with me; there’s a special one I want you to see.”
I follow along as we meander through the maze of sculptures, marveling at the artists' talent and creativity. When he stops and pulls me forward, I begin to sob. In front of me is the perfect little ladybug. They even used dyes to run through the figure to bring it to life.
“She would have loved this.” Stepping forward, I place my hand on the frigid ice and close my eyes. A sensation of peace overtakes me, and I wilt in relief at knowing Betty is okay. That she’s finally pain-free. I don’t understand how I know it’s her, I just do.
