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He keeps going the whole time, gently rocking up into me, slow and steady until neither of us can stand it anymore. “I want to feel you come,” I murmur. “I want to feel your cum inside me, Luke.”
He obeys me this time, tightening his grip on my hips and speeding up his thrusts until he’s driving up into me, again and again, until I can feel the shudder building in him. When he comes, I pull him against me, kissing him hard to muffle his groan. I feel it in every inch of his body, the pleasure, the release. The way he breaks apart to gaze at me with awe, like I’m some kind of magical, beautiful creature who he can’t quite believe is with him right now.
I know the feeling. I slide off his lap, and we lie side by side on the sand, face to face, on top of his coat. He traces my lower lip with his thumb. I reach up to run my fingertips along the sides of his face, his jawline, the edges of his lips.
“Did you mean it?” I whisper, eventually.
“Did I mean that I love you?” he responds, reaching up to pull me against him more tightly. His lips find my temple, my cheek, my jawline. He nudges forward, kissing the spot where my neck meets my jaw, and I gasp a little before I sink into him, surrendering.
“No,” I breathe, trying to keep my heart rate steady, my breath from hitching. “Did you mean it… when you said that the dream doesn’t have to end?”
He pulls back, and I freeze, worried I’ve done something wrong. He shifts me off him and stands, and then he wraps both hands around mine and tugs me to my feet.
“What are you doing?” I ask, but he doesn’t answer me. He just takes my left hand in his, ever so gently.
“Can I have the ring back, Celia?”
My heart sinks. So, no, he meant. He didn’t mean it. The fantasy does have to end. Trying to ignore the sting in the back of my throat, I reach up with shaking fingers and slide the ring off my finger, before I pass it to him. I hold my breath, unsure what he’s doing. Unsure what any of this means now.
“I don’t want you to be my wife for now, Celia,” Luke murmurs, and my heart starts to stutter, to beat faster with fear. But then he sinks down in front of me, onto one knee in the sand. He’s still holding my left hand in his—he never let me go. “I want you to be my wife forever,” he says, kneeling in front of me, looking up at me in the dim glow from the moon that’s starting to rise outside our little cave. “Will you marry me for real, Celia?”
My eyes sting with fresh tears all over again, but these are happy tears, tears of joy. It takes me a moment to find my voice. I just start nodding at first, and he laughs, and then I laugh too, and it all bursts out of me at once. “Yes. Yes, Luke, I’ll marry you for real.” He slides the ring back onto my finger and stands, picking me up in his arms and spinning me around, sand flying around our feet.
He kisses me, again and again, and I smile into the kiss, unable to stop. When he finally sets me back on my feet, we’re both breathless, laughing. I lift my hand and wiggle my ring finger, studying the diamond in the light.
“It feels heavier now,” I observe. “Like it really means something this time.”
When I glance over, I find him studying me closely, through hooded eyes. I recognize that look. It’s the look he gets when he wants me, so badly he can hardly stand it.
It’s one of my favorite looks.
“That’s because it does,” he replies, taking a step toward me. He catches my hand and brings it to his lips, kissing the ring first, and then each of my fingertips in turn. “It’s because this time, the ring was given with intention,” he says, smiling. I smile back. I wonder if I’ll ever stop doing that instinctively, smiling at him whenever he does. I hope not.
“I love you, Celia,” he whispers. “I can’t wait to be your husband for real.”
