CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Jackie
It all seemed like a dream—a crazy, insane, wonderful dream, but a dream nonetheless. The weeks had passed slowly, but now we were at the end of the season and were ready to be married.
I was staying with Scott—he had decided we would move into his apartment until we found something that suited us both perfectly. I had told him about my dad and his need to be near us and he had understood completely.
“Jackie?” a voice called at the door.
“Mm?” I replied dreamily. I opened the door to find Barbara there. She was my bridesmaid. She had laughed about that, saying that at fifty-two she was hardly a bridesmaid. But I had insisted. Now she was here to help me dress.
I let her in and she went to the bed where the dress was laid out. I had been looking at it apprehensively all morning. Barbara picked it up with the same ease with which she peeled carrots or cleaned paintbrushes.
“Here we go,” she said, the Dior creation over one arm. “Let’s see if we can figure this one out.”
I laughed. She helped me with the corsets and underthings, then fastened the dress up behind me. It was stunning.
It had a classical look, with a low V-neck and a tight waist, a long skirt gathered in at the waist and falling in soft folds to lap the floor behind me. It was white, but a sort of pearl white, almost like gray pearls. It matched my eyes. I swallowed.
“It’s beautiful.”
“No, you’re beautiful,” Barbara corrected stubbornly. “The dress just matches you.”
I swallowed and hugged her impulsively. “You look beautiful too.” She did.
She was wearing a butter-yellow dress with a low neck and high waist that fell perfectly. It matched her auburn hair, which she had curled and fluffed so it framed her heart-shaped face appealingly. She looked at least ten years younger than I knew she was, and really cute.
“Oh, nonsense, she said, flapping a hand at me absently. “Now. I think we’re supposed to let the hairdresser in just now. Oh, hell. There’s the bell.”
She ran to answer the door. Scott was already at the church. I stood and looked at myself in the mirror, feeling as if my heart might stretch and burst if anymore happiness filled it. I slid my hands down the slippery silk and stared into my own surprised eyes.
I looked beautiful.
Barbara returned, hairdresser and stylist in tow, and soon I was in the seat behind what had become my dressing table, with my hair being styled into the most elaborate, beautiful style of my life. I stared at myself as she lowered the veil onto the elegant bun she’d made. My face was framed with wavy curls, my hair arranged on top of my head in a style that cascaded down the back, falling into loose ringlets that brushed my neck.
“Right,” Barbara said. “Now, the lady I just let in has to do your face.”
I laughed, still amazed at Scott and the way he was spoiling me. As if a daylong beauty treatment yesterday hadn’t been treating enough, without my own stylist and makeup artist here in our apartment, doing my face and getting me ready!
They finished and I drifted, my mind in a haze, down to the car that waited for me. It was supposed to be a surprise, and it was.
A vintage Rolls, cream and beautiful, awaited me. He couldn’t have picked a better bridal conveyance than that. I felt my heart melt. I looked up, not wanting tears spoiling my face.
“Right,” Barbara said briskly. “Let’s get in. Amelia has the baby.”
Amelia was our Au pair. She was coming with us, Stella on her knee. I wanted to take Stella myself, but Scott had insisted—probably fairly—that she might mess up my gown and he had a point there. She did have a habit, at three months old, of putting things in her mouth.
I slipped into the seat and looked over to where Barbara and Amelia rode with us.
“Hello, baby,” I whispered to her. She looked at me as if not sure what to make of this strange creature. Then she recognized me and smiled.
“Nah”, she said.
I laughed. That probably meant high praise. I grinned at my daughter.
“You look beautiful,” I replied. She did. Not content with spoiling me silly, Scott had ordered her a proper gown too—an adorable white silk one with puffed sleeves and a bow at the waist. She looked like a lovely doll.
“Wuh.”
We all laughed. My dad was there too, looking stunning in a black suit. He smiled at me, eyes crinkling. “She has good sense, your daughter.”
I laughed and nodded, unable to speak.
“You look beautiful, baby.”
I did cry then, though fortunately my makeup didn’t smudge. I squeezed his hand. “Thanks, I said, my voice wobbling dangerously. “You too.”
Then we were speeding away to my wedding.
I didn’t see anything of the crowd, the photographer, the journalists each taking pictures of their own. I didn’t see anything, really, until I walked in. Then I saw Scott. And everything faded.
He was wearing a black suit he could have been born wearing, it fit him so well. Tall and dark haired, with that lovely chestnut curl to his hair that brought out the blue of his eyes so perfectly, he looked like a painting. I couldn’t quite believe what I was seeing.
He was smiling at me and I smiled back from under the veil. I went to stand beside him.
His hand moved so that it stroked mine and I wanted to grin. I gripped his fingers briefly and then let go sternly, forcing myself to concentrate on the task at hand.
The ceremony seemed brief. The words washed over me and seared into my heart with their beauty. Then I was saying my vows.
“I do.”
I listened to the verse and then to Scott’s reply. Low, level and unshakeable.
“I do.”
“You may kiss.”
He turned to me and, with trembling fingers, lifted the veil. He kissed me and it was a burning, passionate kiss, a hungry one that, although brief, promised to make up for that lack later. I shivered and kissed him back.
We were man and wife.
We turned to face the congregation and I felt a little dizzy. In the pale light that filtered down on all of us, the group before us was a sea of blond and red and brown and gray and pastels and the black of suits. I held Scott’s hand, swaying a little with amazement.
We looked at each other. His smile said all the words that were inside me. He looked so happy. I smiled back.
We walked down the aisle into the flow of confetti, happy shouts and congratulations. Then we were piling, laughing, into the car. Scott had Stella cradled to his chest. We kissed on the back seat.
“I love you,” I whispered in his ear.
His hands traced over my shoulders, his touch setting my body on fire. He drew me into his embrace so that we were both—Stella and I—held against his chest. “I love you too,” he whispered. “I love you too.”
***
I followed Jackie through into our bedroom. I had thought we should jet off somewhere for our wedding night, but she had insisted on having the evening together at home. Now that we were here, I wasn’t sorry about that. The media would have followed us anywhere else and it wouldn’t have felt as, well, personal.
Now I leaned against the bedroom door with her in my arms and kissed her. She looked so, so lovely. I was almost shy to touch her.
“Jackie,” I breathed.
She smiled and cupped my cheek in the way she had that made me feel so warm inside. I kissed her hand, and she smiled at me, her eyes unfocused.
I laughed. Ran my hand down her hair. We had left the veil in the sitting room, and I stroked her soft, fluffy hair in the magnificent style. I looked down at her and kissed her again. Her body was pressed against mine and I could feel my cock harden as I held her close.
“Jackie,” I whispered as I kissed her neck. Her skin was so sweet and warm under my lips. I sucked it gently and she laughed, a small, happy sound. It made the blood flood my loins. I reached down and locked my arms around her, lifting her so that she was in my arms.
I carried her to the bed, laughing and protesting. Put her down on it. My own body was so aroused now I wasn’t sure if I could slow it down. But I had to. I wanted to make this a night to remember.
I held her against me while I reached behind to unfasten the dress. My fingers were trembling so much I could barely lift the little loops of silk off the small, round buttons, but I managed. While I worked I kissed her neck. She was giggling as my lips tickled her and the sound was setting me aflame.
I kissed her back onto the bed and slid the dress forwards over her arms. Worked it down over her feet where it slid away. I stared at her.
Wearing bridal lingerie, she was unbelievable. My cock throbbed angrily, a warning that I had to do something now or I was in danger of spending myself just looking at her. I went to the bed, fumbling with longing, blinded fingers for the laces of the corset. I managed to work it off and stared at her hungrily. It was like unwrapping Christmas gifts. Everything I took off revealed something amazing.
I did it slowly, kissing her left breast and then the right one as I slipped the bra off. My body flooded with heat as I felt that warm roundness with my hands. I pushed her back onto the bed and slowly, so slowly, slid her panties down. My eyes feasted on her lying there.
My bride. My wedding.
I sighed. She was smiling at me. “You also need to get rid of something, there.”
I smiled. “I suppose I do.”
“Yes,” she purred. She sat up and fumbled with my buttons. I felt my heart melt as she undressed me too. I gathered her in my arms when she’d taken off my shirt, longing to feel her silk skin pressed against my chest.
We sat like that for quite a while, her body pressed to mine, my face buried in her warmth. I couldn’t quite believe the depth of feeling that ran through me. Love, joy, amazement. Wonder. Happiness. I choked. I couldn’t quite believe it.
Then, as she moved in my arms, longing rose again to overwhelm me. I shifted and finished what she’d started until we were both naked on the bed.
Then, slowly, as slowly as I could, I parted her thighs and felt her wetness. She was as ready as me! I gasped.
Trembling, I knelt between her thighs and slid inside. I gasped as I filled her, feeling the sweet, warm welcome that only she gave me. I couldn’t believe how amazing it felt to be inside her. I pulled out and in, slowly, trying to find the ways that pleased her most. When I found the spot that made her cry out, I stuck with it.
In, out. In, out. In, out. Faster and faster and faster. My eyes were closed, breath gasping.
She was moaning and then she cried out, a ragged scream. Then it came. Crashing over my head like wildfire. I gasped and moaned and it kept coming. The biggest, strongest orgasm I had ever felt. I was pumping in her, my body spending itself.
I collapsed into her arms and we lay like that, my mind a featureless blank, until she moved.
She ran her hand down my back and into my hair, stroking me. I sighed and moved closer, kissing her neck.
“I love you,” I whispered in her ear. “Thank you, dearest.” I couldn’t find words to describe how incredible I felt. I had to thank her.
She smiled. Her face was so bright it seemed as if all the candles in the room had sparked there. “Thank you too, dearest.”
We lay there, our bodies pressed together, sharing the warmth of skin and the drowse of release until I rolled off her and held her in my arms.
We kissed, then, and, kissing, began to feel our desire kindling again. It was going to be a long night, I thought with some rising excitement. A long night, and a long morning. It was our night.
Our wedding night.
I still couldn’t quite believe it.
When I woke next morning, with Jackie in my arms and the scent of her in my nose, looking at the sweet smile on the curve of her mouth, I did start to believe it.
“Good morning, wife.”
She giggled. “That’s nice.” She opened her eyes. “Good morning.”
We rolled into each other’s arms, and it was a long time before either of us left the bed. When we did, drowsy and sated, we looked at each other—both, I think, a little awed.
“I love you,” I said, staring at her where she stood in the hazy daylight filtered through the curtains.
“I love you too,” she said.
We kissed.