Page 54 of Corrupting Lily

“You are mine now,il mio fiorellino,” he mutters as the priest continues. A shiver runs down my spine, mingling with the lust pooling in my core. Now explained explicitly, those words lodge in my heart, where my budding love for him blooms. I just don’t know if it will be nourished or destroyed.

Make no mistake, I was marrying for love, but I still wasn't sure if he was marrying me for the same reason. He may love me, but it still feels like something else lurks behind this. Perhaps living in a perpetual state of always waiting for the other shoe to drop makes me doubt everything.

“Do you, Dominico Sante, take Lily Valentine to be your wife, to have and to hold, in rich and in poor, in sickness and health, until death do you part?”

Not a second of hesitation.

“I do,” his gruff voice answers, his eyes still locked with mine.

Seconds later, a massive diamond ring is slipped onto my finger, and the priest announces that we are now man and wife.

That is all this possessive man needs as he steps forward, his arms circling my waist before his lips capture mine. As jaded as I am, I have always been a sucker for a good romance. I thought that thing that happens, where the world disappears, was just a made-up fantasy. It is not. All two hundred guests fade into non-existence, along with the grumpy priest, Matteo, directly behind me, and Dante and Nero behind Dominico. It is just him and me, and I cling to him as if I fear he will vanish like the rest of them.

When we pull apart and reality comes crashing down, he smiles as if he has won Don of the Year while all two hundred observers whistle, clap, and shout things I do not understand. I will have to start learning the language if I want to fit into this world. They might not be happy he married me, but they are happy he has wed.

Hand in hand, we walk through the crowd, which throws confetti and satin white rose petals before heading to the reception hall. The night flies by, with people approaching the head of the table, offering lavish gifts and congratulations before moving on.

Dominico keeps his hand on my thigh, and his firm grip helps me stay grounded. Holly sits at a nearby table with Dante and Nero. She smiles at me, the only friendly face among a sea of strangers. While many women clapped in the chapel, that show of congratulations is absent in this environment. A lot of them are angry with me. Understandably. I am an outsider and now in a position of power, not that I could wield it. An envious title if ever there was one.

I startle when Dominico stands up. He holds out his hand, and the confused look on my face as I take it and rise prompts him to explain.

“It's time for our first dance, and then we can finally leave. I am eager to get to the next part of this evening.” I blush, thinking about what is to come. It is not as if my imagination has not already conjured up the scenario numerous times. However, nervousness still pools inmy stomach, churning with my single glass of champagne. I wanted to be sober for what is to come.

“I haven’t danced in a while. I hope I don’t embarrass you,” I whisper as we stand in the center of the dance floor.

“You could never embarrass me, Mrs. Sante,” Dominico smirks as my eyes widen, the title sounding even more delicious when it comes from him.

The music starts, and we move, forgotten steps coming back to me as easily as if I were riding a bike. However, it would not be necessary. Dominico effortlessly leads, my body a willing passenger on this journey across the dance floor. His hands purposefully brush areas of my body with an aim to tease. To arouse. To prepare. By the time we are finished, I can feel his hardness pressing into my stomach, opening the flood gates of my desire.

“Time to go,” he growls, dipping his head and signaling Matteo, Dante, and Nero, with Holly following closely behind.

We do not say goodbyes; we simply leave in three black SUVs, arriving minutes later at a dock.

“Are we spending our honeymoon on the water?” I ask as Dominico lifts the skirt of my wedding dress while I walk onto the luxurious yacht.

“No. Somewhere else. It’s a surprise. Go downstairs with Holly. There is a change of clothes in one of the rooms.”

Holly is behind me, and when she overhears our conversation, she bolts forward, eager to evade Nero, who is close behind her.

“Let’s go.” Holly grabs my hand and part of my dress and leads me down the stairs to the lower deck, poking her head into each room before entering the one near the back.

“Here we are, Mrs. Sante.” She jabs me in the ribs playfully, a big smile on her lips.

“Are you nervous about tonight?” she asks as we struggle with the clips at the back.

“Very. I’ve imagined having sex with Dominico but actually doing it…” I trail off, unsure how to express myself. One of my fears was that I lacked experience, having only slept with two people in my life. My first time was with a boy from the shelter, Tommy. It took place in a handicapped bathroom, far from the romantic scene I had dreamt of. But he said he loved me, and I believed him. I wanted someone to love me. He took advantage of my vulnerability, promising me things he never intended to honor. The next day, he was gone. I never saw him again.

The second person was Johnathan. He was a selfish lover, even from the beginning. I rarely had orgasms, but he blamed me, telling me I was a lousy lay. Towards the end, just before the last incident, he began forcing himself on me when I said I didn’t want to, which hurt physically and emotionally. What if sex with Dominico was the same?

“How the fuck did they get this thing on you,” Holly grits out, the tugging at the back of me jolting my body around. The many dress fitters around when I put it on definitely made it easier. By the time we get the dress off, Holly has said so many swear words that I am hysterically laughing, tears streaming down my face.

“Okay, finally.” She groans as the dress slips to the floor. She gathers it up and tosses it into the corner of the room as if it isn’t worth thousands of dollars.

“So, as we were saying, you’re nervous about tonight? Don’t be. The raging inferno we were all witness to in the church when you guys locked lips is enough to know that the sex is going to be hot, and your lady bits are going to be singing with joy. Weeping with joy, actually.” She laughs when I blush while slipping into the beautiful white dress laid out on the bed for me. Although plain, it is extremely short, andthe plunging neckline leaves little to the imagination.

“You look like a slutty angel. I like it. I’m sure Dominico will love it. Here, let's unpin your hair. It will look better down.”

My hair has so many pins that my arm is sore when we finish.

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