Page 48 of Slightly Married
“You’re staring,” she murmured, stretching against me like a contented cat.
“Observing,” I corrected, brushing my thumb across her cheek. “There’s a difference.”
She rolled her eyes but smiled, pressing a kiss to my chest before sitting up. “What’s the plan for today? More sailing?”
“Actually,” I said, sitting up, “I thought we might attend Mass. There’s a small church in the village where Theo and I had our communion together.”
“You want me to come to church with you?”
“I do.” I hadn’t planned this, but it seemed the best way to honor my friend.
She hesitated, fingers fidgeting with the edge of the sheet. “I didn’t exactly shop for church services.”
“You’ll be fine,” I assured her, dragging her up to kiss her lips. “Wear that blue dress you ordered. The one whose length you were complaining about.”
An hour later, we stood before the small stone church, holding hands. I watched Kayla absorb the details of the worn stone steps and the flickering candles visible through the open doors.
“This is cute,” she whispered.
Inside, the scent of incense enveloped us. We moved together through the rituals of service. When the elderly woman beside us whispered something, Kayla responded, and the woman beamed in delight.
Midway through the service, the priest called us forward with a warm smile. I felt Kayla tense beside me.
“It’s customary for visitors to receive a blessing,” I murmured, guiding her forward. “Trust me.”
The priest blessed our union, saying, “May your marriage be fruitful with children and abundant in joy.” I felt her hand tighten in mine.
After service, we lit candles for Theo, the twin flames dancing in the still air. Watching her bow her head and whisper a prayer for the departed—for a man she’d never met—made me want to marry her again.
The remainder of the day passed in quiet reflection and connection. We shared a simple lunch at a local taverna, where Kayla listened as I shared stories of my childhood friend.
As evening approached, the weight of the day’s emotions left me craving the simplicity of natural beauty. “Would you like to walk along the shore before dinner?” I suggested when the documentary about dolphins we were watching ended.
She smiled. “I’d love that.”
We strolled along the beach, holding hands, and the anniversary of Theo’s death weighed on me less. We reached a perfect crescent of sand sheltered by rocky outcroppings on either side. The setting sun painted the water in shades of amber and gold.
“It’s beautiful,” Kayla breathed, slipping off her sandals to feel the sand between her toes.
“Private, too,” I added.
Her eyes met mine, and she smiled, reaching for the zipper of her dress. As it fell away, I realized she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. “Race you to the water,” she challenged.
Minutes later, we both stood naked and waist-deep in the calm sea, the last rays of sunlight warming our bare shoulders. The water felt pleasantly cool compared to the lingering heat of the day.
“What are you thinking?” she asked, her arms encircling my neck.
“That I want to remember this.”
Her legs wrapped around my waist as I carried her deeper into the water. She leaned in, her lips brushing against mine in a soft, tender kiss. I deepened the kiss, my hands spreading wide across her buttocks, holding her closer.
As we kissed, her hips ground against mine. The surrounding water seemed to amplify every sensation, every touch. I let my hands wander, tracing the curves of her body, feeling the smoothness of her skin beneath the surface.
I positioned myself at her entrance, and her pussy swallowed me inch by inch.
The sensation was exquisite, with the warmth of her body enveloping me and the water creating a gentle resistance. I let out a low groan, gripping her hips, guiding her movements.
She began to move, slowly at first, her body rising and falling in a rhythm that was both torturous and divine. The water lapped against us, creating a gentle, sensual rhythm.
