The Way You Make Me Feel (13 page)

Damien and Stevie saw that the small church was packed with well-wishers and Stevie's eyes filled with tears. What wonderful people these were.

Then they were at the altar and their dream was becoming a reality.

“Dearly beloved, this is our hour in the sun.” Thus began the words they had worked on together, uncovering the depths of their hearts, putting on paper all that they felt.

They said as one, “We will treasure each other, love and honor, swear to be faithful, hold each other in the highest esteem. We will do no hurt to each other and help each other in any way we can.”

They covered the waterfront with their tender words, but, Stevie thought, they had spoken of love and honor, and Damien could no longer love. Should they have left that word out? Stevie didn't think so. What they had was a kind of love, a depth of understanding few people ever achieved. It had to be enough. She told herself it was enough.

And Damien wondered, too. He felt Stevie deserved so much more than he could give her, but she wanted him as he wanted her. They had bone-marrow-deep passion for each other and each kiss brought them closer. They kissed often.

They finished their vows and the best man handed Damien the diamond-encircled ring that matched the six-carat round white-diamond engagement ring. He had bought both on Diamond Point and they were exquisite. She raised tremulous eyes to him, misted with happy tears, as he slipped the ring on her finger and squeezed her hand. A lump filled his throat and he wanted her so badly he groaned inside.

A murmur of approbation went through the congregation and they smiled knowingly at a lovely wedding and coming honeymoon that would surely be splendid.

“I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Damien drew Stevie close in a daze, and her presence blotted out all else for him. He felt her rapid heartbeats against the thunder of his own and he wished for precious privacy to make her his own in ways neither would ever forget.

The pastor's wife kissed them both, and the pastor kissed Stevie's cheek, shook Damien's hand.

“Now begins the merriment,” the pastor said. “Your dress is just right for our grand little party. We are all in our Sunday best.”

“Oh, the bridal bouquet!” the pastor's wife cried. “You must toss it. We have no stairs, but I want the women of the congregation to gather around and you will stand onstage, my dear, and throw it to them.”

Laughing, Stevie turned back and went onstage. The women gathered eagerly and she closed her eyes and threw the bouquet deep into the crowd. There were gasps of delight when a young woman caught it and cried with joy. The pastor's wife met Stevie at the bottom of the stage and told her, “Miriam lost her husband in a boating accident two years ago and she has been inconsolable. Perhaps now…”

Touched, Stevie sought out the young woman and wished her well. Then, with Damien again, they were led past a tall bamboo fence and into the huge backyard of the ministerial couple.

Damien paused a moment and his glance locked with hers. “We will have fun, my love. I promise you joy.”

“I have joy whenever I'm with you,” she responded.

The backyard was gaily decorated with balloons and crepe-paper streamers. Flowers were everywhere. Damien got a knife from the pastor's wife, cut a red rose and put it behind Stevie's ear. “As if the smell of your body isn't heady enough,” he told her.

The aroma of food lay on the early night air and a full moon was already overhead. “Ummm,” Stevie said. “Did you by chance choose this particular time of the month because of the full moon?”

“Guilty. Nature is my running buddy.”

He was so full of love, she thought now. How sad that he should be so afraid of it when he was afraid of little else.

Food had never tasted so good to Stevie. Tables were covered with snowy-white linen and laden with roast suckling pig, roast beef, pork and chicken. Golden-brown fried chicken lay heaped on platters. Deep bowls of couscous and potato salad were quickly emptied.

Vegetable salads and their dressings were island specialties.

But the desserts were outstanding. Pies and cakes of every description were on a table to themselves.

Stevie and Damien were led to a table with its contents covered with white linen. Upon the cover being gently folded back, they gasped with pleased surprise at a four-tier wedding cake.

“This is my gift to you,” the pastor's wife said. “Enjoy!”

Damien's hand guided hers as Stevie cut the cake and moments later she fed him from her fingers.

Damien grinned roguishly. “Be careful I don't lose it and eat you alive.”

Her eyes flashed as she told him, “My hunger goes deep, too.”

Music sounded with drums, guitars, violins. Flutes carried haunting melodies and the aching rhythms of love that sprang from the earth itself. The drums were heartbeats pulsing desire. A strolling guitarist paused before them and bowed low as he told them, “The world is yours for a while. Bonbini! And enjoy. Enjoy!”

The next tunes the band played were soft and dreamy, rife with passion. Damien held Stevie close and his minty breath on her face and throat entranced her. “What are you thinking?” she asked him.

“What can I think about except you? Us.” He held her closer still and she melded into him. The dance was long and others danced around them, smiling, happy in the soft lights.

When the first set was over the pastor came to them. “It is our custom not to have wedding festivities last too long. The happy couple deserve quality time alone and we will see that you get this. Let your bonding be complete when you retire to your honeymoon bungalow.” He smiled at them broadly. “I will not forget to give you your Bible before you leave. There is so much in it for wedded bliss.”

Damien had begun to be concerned that Matt couldn't make it after all. He was pleasantly surprised when the tall, bespectacled man and his wife, Leila, came to them. Damien introduced Stevie to the couple.

“Oh, my dear, you look beautiful,” Leila cried, “and you, Damien…You both look so happy.”

“We
are
happy, and made for each other,” Damien said.

“We
must
swap dances,” Matt said. “Did you have a good trip over?”

“Perfect,” Damien told him.

“The manager of the honeymoon cottages told me the cottage you selected and it really is ideal. I wish you could stay longer. I want to host you, but that trouble in the hills is keeping all our feet to the fire. You have my special invitation to come back soon and I will show you the time of your life.”

Leila laughed. “I'm afraid you're late, dear. I think they're having the time of their lives.”

Stevie danced with others, and the men proved to be excellent dancers who showed her many of the island steps. Then the pastor danced with her.

“Be happy, my dear,” the pastor said. “This is one of the loveliest weddings I have presided over. Stevie, I see a small shadow that crosses your countenance from time to time. God is good, and He will assuage whatever it is that troubles you.”

Stevie thanked him and thought what a wonderful shepherd he must be for his flock.

Later, nestled in Damien's arms as they danced slowly with a violinist nearby, she heard Damien whisper, “We can leave at any time. They expect us to. They all know there's very important business waiting for us.”

She blushed vividly and her blood ran hot. “Don't do this to me,” she whispered as he kissed her throat. “You know you have only to suggest making love to me and my knees don't hold me up.”

“Then I'll hold you and carry you over the threshold.” With wicked glee, he began to hum “I Want to Kiss You All Over.”

A
t the threshold of their cottage, Damien stopped, picked Stevie up and silently carried her over and set her down. She gasped when they entered. The scent of roses and gardenias permeated the air. Vases of the flowers were set about in every room and rose lights were turned low, giving a romantic glow to everything. Perth, their houseman, was there to greet them with congratulations.

They thanked him and he continued. “I have prepared delicious food for you to tide you over until I return in the morning,” he said. “Also, I have engaged a small band of musicians. It is the custom of the islanders that on a wedding night the couple be serenaded throughout the night to send them into a life of bliss. They will begin sharply at ten.”

Where had the time gone? Stevie wondered. They had landed on the island in the very early afternoon, now they were married, and about to find themselves in true paradise.

The food was under glass and silver, and when she lifted a cover wonderful aromas came forth. Soft island music from a CD player caressed their ears and Damien hummed one tune. Perth left then, after giving them his home and cell phone numbers and making them free to call him at any time. “My wish is that you enjoy your stay here, ma'am, as Mr. Steele has always enjoyed his.”

After Perth had left, Damien turned to Stevie and held her at arm's length. “It fascinates me how much more beautiful you get as the days go by.”

Her whole body and spirit yearned for him as his hot gaze swept over her. “You promised me soft white sand and a waterfall,” she teased him.

“All in time, but for now, this place will have to do. I can wait no longer.”

He led her out on the wide balcony shaded with palms and tall hedges. The moon was high and twinkling stars spangled the sky. “Bear with me,” he said softly. “I'm so anxious I'll be a bit clumsy. Please turn around.”

He unzipped her dress and it pooled at her ankles. Running his hands over her sheer lace panties and bra, he unloosed the firm, high breasts and brought one to his mouth. She was half fainting with desire and her soft skin aroused him to fever pitch.

Swiftly picking up her clothes she placed them on a chair and came back to him. “Now, allow me,” she whispered. She unbuckled his belt, unzipped his fly and passed ardent fingers over his shaft, rigid and impatiently waiting. It rose to meet her. Then she unbuttoned and removed his shirt and undershirt, his pants and his boxer shorts, and they both stood naked.

He took her in his arms and his seeking mouth claimed hers with savage need. Thrill after thrill shook them both and both were ravening.

“It's a good thing you didn't take too much longer,” he finally growled, “or I'd have ravished you.”

“Greedy,” she whispered.

“For you, yes, I'm greedy. I warn you I'm going to need a lot of you to fill me for the next hundred years.”

“Don't talk. Make love to me. Fast and furious.”

And he did as she asked. He led her to a chaise lounge where she sat down and he kneeled before her. “Lie back,” he said gently, “because you're going to faint before I get through.”

She laughed. “Promises. Promises. Just wait. There are things I'll do to you to shake you up.”

He began kissing her belly, his tongue flicking into the indention and lingering there. With wet kisses he tongued her and slowly, maddeningly crept down to the soft hairs. At the bud, he began the circular licking that nearly drove her crazy with desire, and she gripped his hair and pressed his head hard against her writhing body.

Moaning with delight, she panted and led him on.
How could anything be this good?
she wondered. She thought she was going to explode sky-high with rapture as he continued his delicious journey. She stroked his face, then bent and kissed his hair. “Okay,” she finally murmured, “two can play at this game. Sit down, my love,”

A sharp thrill gripped him as he sat down and she laved his shaft with a tender tongue. He knew even more now than before he belonged to this woman who knew what to do with his body and who was fast beginning to be part of his own heart and soul. And that was fine with him because he needed her the way he had needed nothing and no one ever before. This night would be theirs and they would be together for the rest of their lives, he was certain.

A big water bed lay near the windows and Perth had sprinkled their rose satin sheets with rose and gardenia blossoms.

Damien had intended that they spend only a little time indoors, then out to the waterfall, but passion got the best of them and his shaft demanded that he enter her waiting body right then. She was wet with raging desire, but he made himself go in slowly and easily when he wanted to storm her. She lifted her legs and crossed them scissors-fashion over his muscular back and pressed down as he panted.

The musicians had begun their music outside and a mockingbird sang nearby. He kissed her long and ardently and his tongue in her mouth blended superbly with his shaft in her sheath. His tongue lingered in the corners of her mouth, then both their tongues danced with desire in each other's mouths.

“You've got a wicked tongue,” she murmured. “It does strange, wonderful things to me.”

“And yours doesn't do the same to me?”

“I try.”

He pulled out a bit, then went all the way in past her womb and she cried his name and told him, “I don't want this ever to end.”

He crushed her to him. “I can take you as long as you can last.”

“We'll see about that. I love you.” She hadn't meant to say it.

He slowed then. “Stevie,” he said solemnly, “if I could love anyone, it would be you. You're closer to my heart than anyone. Please let that be enough for now. I keep praying that things will change, that I'll change because you deserve all the love any man has to give.”

“I didn't intend to crowd you. That just slipped out.”

He drew her closer. “And I'm glad it did. I hope you mean it because with your love I believe that one day I'll know love again.”

“Don't rush it. Healing takes time. Isn't that what you always tell me?”

“Yes.” He smoothed her hair, then kissed her forehead, and his fingers massaged the butter-soft flesh of her scalp and cupped her face. He throbbed mightily inside her as if her words had unleashed the power of his manhood.

“You have a powerful penis,” she whispered. “A raging shaft.”

“You do that to me. He's crazy about you.”

“And I'm crazy about him. What d'you call him?”

“I've never thought to name him.”

“How about Merlin, the master magician? Remember Merlin from the legend of King Arthur?”

“I do. You really think he measures up?”

“Oh, he'd put any magician to shame. You're going to have to take me to the madhouse any minute. I don't know how much more of this I can stand.”

“We've got a long way to go. Think of that warm sand and the waterfall. Do you want to stop now and continue there?”

But as he asked the question, he half turned her over and his big hands squeezed her buns and pressed her hard into him and she came almost violently. She was an ocean wildly crashing onto a sandy beach and she knew glory unlike any she had ever known before.

Turning her over onto him, he felt the soft weight of her on his muscular body as she massaged his biceps, his pecs and pushed herself up a little to feel his washboard abs. He intended to wait for orgasm, but he exploded with desire as she traversed his body with all the passion she felt. Then he lay spent and panting and she held him inside her, feeling him continue to throb. And he could not remember a time when he'd felt more satisfied or more contented.

After a few minutes he rolled off her and squeezed her as she stroked his face.

“All that work,” she said tremulously. “Aren't you tired?”

“No. Are you? I'm good for the long haul.”

“We've got wedding cake. Would you like some?”

“Hey, you're restless. Didn't I give you enough to slow you down?”

“Plenty, but I'm looking for more. Okay, we'll leave the cake for later.” She began to massage him lightly. “What is there about you that makes me so hungry for you?”

“The same thing that turns my greedy button up to high for you. Baby, I need you the way I need air, food and water.”

She nestled closer. “I'm glad you need me. I certainly need you.”

“We could be planting a baby. That ought to be some child.”

“If not now…This is my fertile time.”

“That's great. Listen, let's get the swimsuits and hit the beach.” He brushed some of the rose and gardenia blossoms off the water bed, then scooped a small heap of them up and showered them over her.

She pulled him back down to her. “As much as I want to be on the beach, I hate leaving this place. I've dreamed of lovemaking like this.” And the thought came unbidden that she also dreamed of being deeply loved.

 

Under the full moon they walked the small distance to their section of the beach. Wild rose hedges had been planted for privacy, and the powdery white sand under their bare feet soothed them. The waterfall fell into the quartz basin below it and Stevie thought the scene was one of the most beautiful she had ever seen.

Before they went into the enclosure they could see in the distance night divers plunging from the sea wall and small boats dotted the horizon.

“Doesn't this place ever sleep?” she asked.

“They don't come here to sleep. Are we sleeping?”

She balled up a small fist and lightly hit him on the arm. “I don't know what you're doing, but I'm turned on to full-throttle lovemaking mood.” Then she grew somber. “Thank you, love, for freeing me from my hellish prison of hating my passion.”

“Thank you. Stevie, we're going to have a great life. I can just feel it. And it began the night you stumbled back into my world. I'm never gonna let you go.”

He pulled her close and removed the short white eyelet smock she wore over her navy bikini. She bent and slid his swim shorts down and threw them aside. Then he deftly undid her straps and slipped the bikini bottom from her, threw it on top of his suit and crushed her to him. His hot mouth ravaged hers for long moments and his big hands cupped her buns, squeezing and stroking them. He licked her face and throat with the tip of an avid tongue, tasting the sweetness of her that was like the fully ripe tropical bushni fruit they had eaten that afternoon.

She stood against him, moaning her pleasure, aware of the music up the beach from them, but hearing only the music their bodies made as they came together. He bore her naked body down to the talcum-soft sand and entered her again as she clutched him to her, crossing her legs over his back, her nails lightly scratching him, then with the pads of her fingers, digging in. She didn't want to hurt him, but she wanted him to feel her in every cell of his body and in every part of his heart and soul.

He put his face in her hair and inhaled the fragrance of good shampoo. “How beautiful you are in the moonlight,” he whispered. “My woman. My wife.”

“My husband,” she murmured. The moonlight was so bright she could see his pale-brown eyes with the big dark-gray flecks, and the expression in those eyes made her heart turn over. He cared deeply about her; that much was certain. She could live without the rest.

She felt his mightily swollen shaft throbbing and thumping inside her and he bent and suckled her breasts hard, then softly, then hard again and her blood ran hot and fierce under him. He rolled over and pulled her on top of him with her breasts splayed against him. She kissed him in a way that made him think of a tigress with her mate and it heated his blood to fever pitch. “Oh, man,” he told her. “It just doesn't get any better than this.”

Taking a small amount of sand, he rubbed it onto her sides and she did the same to him. They were silent in their ecstasy, with juices running wild and the night around them luring them on. Then she heard the music because it was a lovers' song they played. Gina Campbell's old hit signature song, “Love, Be Good To MeTonight.” Damien would have told them to play it, and play it they did with a lead guitar and the drums taking precedence. Those drums blended with her own heartbeats and she nibbled on his ear. She had just learned that this turned him on—high.

“The hard and the soft of it,” he told her. “I said it and I meant it. I want to kiss you all over and that's just what I'm going to do.”

He began with her scalp, her face, her throat. Her arms and her fingers got full measure of his wet kisses and feather-soft licking before he moved to her breasts and suckled hungrily, licking the nipples with circular movements. By the time he traversed her belly and came to her pleasure point, she was bucking with a fever that matched his own. His tongue found her bud again and paid it homage as she cried out.

He lifted his head. “Is this good to you?”

“Oh, yes,” she moaned, pressing his head into her body as she threaded her fingers through his hair.