"I suppose this means you think you're entitled to sex with me now," Rose says, when you let her down to her feet again in the foyer.
You rub the small of your back. "Gee, I dunno. We just got married. So I think that's customary. Traditional? You're traditional all of a sudden. So."
You lock eyes with her. You stare at each other for a few long moments. And then together, you dash upstairs to her bedroom.
Through her door, leaving it open, to her bed, tugging at your tuxedo jacket, as she crawls up to the mattress and turns onto her back and tries to help you. You mash your lips against each other, as if you're attempting to suck out each other's very souls. Your tongues entwine and you run your hands through the ruffles of her ornate wedding gown. You can't bear trying to get this ridiculous thing off of her -- too many clasps, garters, and other nonsense. You just want her, anyhow, anyway -- right now.
She must be the same, because you hardly manage to get your belt undone and trousers to your ankles, before she's pulling you by the tie right back into her arms. She doesn't even let you kick off your shoes, much less take off your shirt. She's nothing but limbs and kisses and breathy exhalations. You run your hands through her absurd hairdo, and grope her face, and feel her warm body through her dress. This one's going to be quick, you know, you're already hard, your cock is already leaking, and when your hands find Rose's bare pussy beneath the layers of the dress's skirt -- did she really go nopan to her own wedding? Jesus, Rose, amazing -- her cunt slit is already oozing wet and ready.
"Just -- just fuck me --" she sighs. "Fuck me, Alabaster."
It's important, as a husband, to listen to your wife.
You fuck her.
You shove your cock into her waiting body. Her warm pussy accepts you entirely, conforms to you, swallows you. Rose's feet, still clad in heels, kick skyward, and lock around your hips, the soles clacking together as you screw her. You press down on her, with all your might. You interlace fingers with her and feel her clench you back, her hands so small but surprisingly strong. She's all sweaty from exertion, and from the sultry confines of her outfit, but she's lost in bliss. She stares right back at you. Her jaw is hanging open and her tongue is hanging out but her eyes are dewy, and full of -- and yours, too -- you kiss her, again and again, letting your mind turn to mush. You fuck Rose for what feels like forever. It's the hardest you've ever fucked her but somehow the softest, too. Your cock fits inside her so nicely that you'd think you were literally made for each other. She's snug and tight, and just for you. Her pussy is just for you. The other girls might get their share of it, but it's yours -- and she wants you to have it. But not just her pussy. She wants you to have her, all of her. You want her to have you. You fuck her in a way that communicates this, without words. You fuck her like you never have, her or anyone. In a giving way. Giving yourself to her.
"Do it!" Rose pants. You didn't even have to warn her. She knows you're about to cum, and she's giving you full permission in advance.
"I--" you grunt -- beginning to say it, but you can't. Even now, you can't. Instead you say it physically. Your tongue in her mouth, and your dick inside her deepest parts, you and Rose become property of one another. You ejaculate, a huge, seemingly never-ending volume of it. You spray her full of semen and mark her as yours. In return, she cums around your jerking cock, and marks you as hers.
Perspiring, drained, exhausted, you fall atop her, and go limp. Your breaths are labored and jagged. Hers too.
"Are you fucking cuddling me right now?" Rose says.
"Yes." (Voice muffled by her breasts.)
"Don't get up..."
"I can't..."
It feels like perhaps half an hour passes before Rose finally speaks again.
"Today was fun," she says.