My Sister Ran Before the Wedding, So I Said I Do novel · Chapter 2 of 24
Chapter 2: The Wedding Night
In her groom's bed Ines tells him to take his anger out on her, and afterward finds the annulment petition dated Monday in his jacket.
The Sequeira house stood at the end of Clark's Point, grey shingle and white trim, with the harbor on three sides of it.
Vasco carried nothing and said nothing for the whole drive.
At the door he finally spoke.
"My grandmother is asleep. She'll be at breakfast. Don't wake her."
"I wasn't going to."
"The room is at the top of the stairs," he said.
"Which room?"
"Mine."
He walked up ahead of me, and I followed, holding my skirts in both fists and wishing I had the nerve to take the veil off.
His room was big and bare.
A bed with a dark wooden frame, a window full of black water and a lighthouse blinking green, a chair with a tie thrown over it.
No photographs.
He shut the door, and the lock clicked.
"I'll sleep in the chair," he said.
"You don't have to."
"I'm not touching you."
He said it to the window.
He took off his jacket, and he hung it on the chair, and I watched his shoulders under the white shirt.
They were stiff.
He was angry in his whole body, and none of it had anywhere to go.
I understood it, which was the worst part.
Four hundred people had watched a woman leave him, and then another woman had stepped in to be looked at.
"You're furious," I said.
"I'm tired."
"You're furious. You've been furious since the vestry."
I folded my arms.
"You smiled at your cousin and shook the priest's hand. Now there's nobody here to see it."
He turned around.
His grey eyes were very still.
"Be careful."
"Of what? You've already bought me."
I stepped toward him, and the dress rustled.
"Take it out on me. I'm the one who's here. I'm the one who said yes."
"Ines."
It was the first time he had said my name.
"Don't do this because you feel sorry for me," he said.
"I don't feel sorry for you."
I reached up and took the veil off, and the pins pulled at my scalp, and I dropped it on the floor.
"I think you want to hit something," I said. "I'm offering you something better."
He crossed the room in three steps.
His hand closed in my hair at the back of my head, not hard, but he tipped my face up and held it there.
His mouth came down on mine.
It was not a gentle kiss.
It tasted like whiskey from the reception and anger, and I opened for it at once and made a sound against his tongue.
He backed me into the bedpost.
The carved wood pressed into my spine through the layers of the dress, and he kissed me until the room tilted.
"Tonight is the wedding," he said against my mouth. "In the morning you're my debtor."
"Fine."
"Say you understand."
"I understand. Get this off me," I said.
He turned me around and found the zipper.
It stuck on a pin my mother had left in.
He swore in Portuguese and ripped it, and I heard stitches go.
The whole dress slid down my arms and pooled on the floor around my feet.
I stood in a slip and a pair of white heels, and he stood behind me, breathing.
"Look at me," he said.
I turned.
His eyes went down my body slowly.
No man had ever looked at me like that.
"Vasco."
"Take it off."
I pulled the slip over my head.
I had on a strapless bra and white lace underwear that my mother bought on sale.
He didn't smile.
He unhooked the bra himself, and it fell, and he put both hands on my breasts and lifted them, thumbs over my nipples.
They hardened under his thumbs at once, and I gasped.
"Good," he said.
He bent his head and took one in his mouth.
His tongue circled it and he sucked, and my knees went, and I grabbed his shoulders.
He caught me around the waist and walked me back onto the bed.
I fell across it on my back in the white lace.
He stood over me and unbuttoned his shirt without hurry.
I watched his chest come out of it, wide and hard and dark with hair, and a ridged scar along the left ribs.
He unbuckled his belt.
I couldn't look away.
His cock strained against his dark briefs, thick and long, and when he pushed them down, it sprang free and stood hard against his stomach.
"Eyes up," he said.
I looked at his face.
"I've been wanting to put this somewhere all day."
"Then put it."
He pulled my underwear off my legs and tossed it away.
He knelt between my thighs and pushed them wide, and I felt the cool air on how wet I already was.
He saw it.
"Already," he said, low.
"Yes," I said.
He lowered himself over me, and the head of his cock pressed against my pussy, and I arched up to meet it.
He pushed in.
It was a stretch, thick and burning, and I clutched the sheet and bit down on my lip.
He went slowly for three inches and then stopped, buried halfway, his arms shaking on either side of my head.
"Ines."
"Don't stop."
"You're so tight," he said.
"Don't you dare stop."
He drove the rest of the way in with one hard thrust.
I cried out.
He filled me completely, his cock deep inside my pussy and his hips flat against mine, and for a moment neither of us moved.
Then he pulled back and fucked me.
He fucked me hard and fast, the headboard knocking the wall with every stroke.
His mouth was at my throat.
I wrapped my legs around his hips and dug my heels into his ass and met every thrust.
Each one hit something deep that made white light go off behind my eyes.
"Harder," I said.
"Ines."
"Harder, Vasco, I mean it."
He slid an arm under my back and hauled me up against him, and the angle changed, and he hit that spot again and again.
My clit ground against the base of him on every stroke.
I was close.
"Come on," he said into my ear. "Come on my cock. Do it."
I came.
It broke over me in a long hard wave, my pussy clenching around his cock in spasms, and I screamed into his shoulder.
He swore and drove into me twice more and buried himself to the root.
His cock jerked, and he came inside me in hot pulses, groaning my name.
We stayed like that, locked together and shaking, until my breath came back.
He pulled out and rolled onto his back.
The lighthouse blinked green on the ceiling.
He didn't touch me, and he didn't speak.
After a long time he turned on his side, away from me, and said into the dark, "Don't think this changes the paper."
"What paper?"
He was already breathing like sleep.
I lay there for an hour with my thighs wet and my whole body humming and nothing in my head.
Then I got up for water.
His jacket hung on the chair where he had left it.
A folded document stuck out of the inside pocket.
I told myself I wouldn't.
I took it out in the light from the window and unfolded it, and it was typed on a lawyer's letterhead.
PETITION FOR ANNULMENT.
Fraud as to the identity of the bride.
It was dated Monday.
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