“On top of the world,” she says wistfully, her hands leaving my head. I know they’re stretched up to the sky, her eyes closed, her head back. Rose. Peaceful Rose. She makes me a really fucking happy man, but in this moment, that happiness is being tarnished by what lies ahead.
I wander slowly, relishing my wife upon my shoulders, the waves lapping the shore gently, the moon glowing hypnotically. I’ll miss this. But we’ll be back. I couldn’t go very long without it. I flick my cigarette away and hold up her sandals to take, laying a palm on each of her thighs under her dress. She squeezes her legs slightly, and I peek up, my smile small.
“I want to get married,” she declares out of the blue, and I frown at the shore.
“You are married.”
“Again.”
The stretch of beach ahead curves around to the left, clusters of lighting dotted along the way from the bars lining it. “Why?”
“Because we’re not technically married, are we?”
“We are according to me.”
“But not according to the law. It’s pretty impossible to marry a dead man, and since you’re coming back to life, I want to marry you.”
“You want a big, fancy wedding, baby?” I ask, slipping my hands inward, fingering at the seam of her knickers.
“Maybe,” she replies coyly, tensing, taking hold of my head. “Can I?”
“You can have whatever the fuck you want, my queen.” I stop just shy of a beach bar, hearing music, the decked terrace heaving with partygoers. Chainsmokers’ I Need You Right Now starts, and Rose begins to sway above me, her hand sweeping through my hair.
I drop one shoulder, reaching up and pulling her down my front, and she squeals, looking faintly dazed when she finds her feet. I take her heels, throw them aside, and pull her into my body. Her palms meet my chest. Her eyes stick to my scar. “I fucking love you,” I whisper, starting to move us slowly in perfect time to the distant track, my attention set firmly of my wife. My beautiful, resilient, warrior goddess.
Her hands slide onto my biceps and hold me, her face coming close, nuzzling, rubbing her nose with mine, her skin brushing over every part of my face as we dance under the moon, my legs slightly bent to keep our hips stuck together, lazily grinding, slowly swaying.
And it’s how we stay until the music fades and there is only us, the ocean, and need. So much fucking need. She breathes in, moving her hand down to my groin, cupping me, biting at her lip. “You want me, baby?” I ask, rolling into her touch as she nods. “Here?” Another nod. “Now?” Her hand moves over my trousers, rubbing me to full hardness, her lips parted as she traces from my eye to the edge of my lip. “Answer me, Rose,” I order gently, the air electric, my hunger for her going through the roof.
She smiles demurely, plainly loving what she does to me. But I do it to her too. I reach for her jaw and hold her face steady. “Say it,” I whisper, reaching under her dress and slipping my finger past her knickers, groaning when I’m greeted by hot, throbbing wetness. “Say it, baby.”
“Yes,” she gasps, jolting, her hands flying to my chest, her fingers clawing, dragging the material of my shirt into her clenched fists.
I smile darkly, moving to her ear and latching on to her earlobe, grazing her flesh through my teeth. “Do you want my tongue fucking your sweet pussy?” Another convulsion of her body. “Plunging. Licking. Rolling.” My mouth waters as I trace the shell of her ear.
“Fuck,” she breathes, rolling her hips, tugging mindlessly at my shirt, pulling a few buttons off.
“Your clit is vibrating.” Every inch of her is vibrating. “You want me to bite it? Nibble?” I roll my fingertip around the pulsing nub. “Suck it?” I ask hoarsely, a suppressed growl rumbling deep at the back of my throat. I pry her hands from my chest, guiding them down to her sides, and she fights me the whole way, wrestling with my grip, her eyes narrow but still bursting with desperation. “Don’t touch me,” I warn coolly, my forehead resting against hers as I reach for the bottom of her dress and pull it to her waist.
“I hate you,” she whispers, pushing her head harder to mine, furious, but still compliant.
“Yeah?” I kick my shoes off and take her hands, walking her backward toward the shore, anticipation swirling within me. The ocean. Rose’s pussy. Two of my favorite things. As soon as I feel the water, I stop us, place my hands on her shoulders and encourage her down. She inhales as her arse comes to rest on the wet sand, and I drop to my knees, pushing her to her back, and take the sides of her knickers, drawing them down her legs and tossing them into the water behind me. A gentle wave comes in behind us, and Rose inhales, her back bowing as the water gathers around her, splashing up onto her chest. The water. The white material of her dress. Her bra-less boobs beneath. I lick my lips at the sight of her nipples hardening to bullets, the dark areola showing through the wet silk. I flick my gaze up, my mouth open, my head spinning. She forces her chest up with another arch of her back, her hands sinking into the wet sand.