Light and Wine (6 page)

“Mea carissima, mea pulchra puella,” I whisper, kissing the side of her bit-bottom lip.

Precious, beautiful girl.

Through delicate cotton, her body parts for my fingertips as her lips open further for mine, and I groan within our kiss.

Little light of love is so wet she burns.

“Mollissima, minima agna … veni ad me,” I whisper, moving my fingers with gentle insistence along where she’s open and soaking to be adored.

Softest, smallest lamb, come to me.

Free inside my arms and steadying her knees, little agna Dei leans up and her bold right hand slips between us, moving the thinnest threads of lace aside to change the whole world for me.

As her head falls back, a low coo pours from her lips. Her arms loosen, but her grip on the starched white that sets me apart brushes against my neck, bringing us closer together as she rides. And the heat of her along my fingers—

The full and soft swallow of vulnerable skin melting and opening for my touch makes church air too thin to breathe in. I harden so entirely I feel little light rise. Her thighs tighten around me, and she rocks forward, bringing the tips of my first two fingers to the most private part of her.

“Mmm …” She hums, and I straighten for what sounds like the start of my name.

With my left arm around her waist, I gather glowing love closer, and with my face in her neck—my nose and lips breathing in the scent of new flowers and newer skin—all I feel is light, all around us. It brightens and warms with every helpless little sound that colors her inhales, and I kiss where I feel her heart fluttering in her throat.

She’s so small under my fingers, so chastely sweet that every soft-slide and slip-stroke I give feels new to both of us, like I could spend days touching her just like this and she would still feel brand new beneath me.
Sliding my
fingertips up with careful slowness around the littlest, most timid part of my heart’s beat makes her tremble hard, and I swear I can feel how pink she is for me.

“Marc,” she pants, breathless and gripping and rocking. “Please, please, Marc …”

It makes me groan, and I glide the tips of my fingers back down, pressing and circling against where she’s brightest hot and darkest pink feeling, open but not enough. She grips tighter and cries higher, circling with me, and I know.

She’s trying to bring me in.

She needs my touch inside her.

And I’m gathering her temple closer to mine, helping her slow down and working to give her what she needs when she spreads her knees outward.

“Father,” she pleads.

It’s barely audible, but fills me with beckoning I can’t deny.

Rubbing a slow circle around where pure yearning aches for me, I whisper under her ear, “Again.”

Beloved light curls wholly closer, burying her face in my neck as mine in hers, as she tries so adorably to ride.

“Father,” she begs and bestows. “Father, please …”

She grips me tighter as it leaves her lips. Her hand tenses into a fist behind my neck, crinkling starched white cotton, and her entire body strains with trembling as another wave of light moves through her. The way it makes her roll brings my fingertip inside, and a joyful little cry escapes with the last of her air.

“Good girl, Lacie,” I whisper, her belly still tensing with sensation against mine. “Bona puella, mea carissima.”

Good girl, my beloved.

Still humming under the surface, love whimpers for Latin she’s never learned in class, but only from my lips. Trying to pull herself closer with her arms, she parts her knees further and rocks her hips in effort to bring my touch deeper. Flames of ecstatic light flicker, and I curl my finger, not wanting the bliss she’s feeling to ebb.

“Come, good girl,” I whisper. “Closer, Lacie. Come here.”

Steadying and securing her to myself, I smile against her skin as I stroke carefully deeper to keep the little girl made of light shining.

“Come, baby. Come here. Come to me. Come, little carissima. Little light, little blessing, come, baby.”

With every kiss and whisper and slow-stroke I give, breathless, hidden-in-my-neck cries grow higher until they peak, and my soaking-warm, burning-soft love moves in sincere abandon. She arches with the effort to open for more, and I sit straighter, parting my knees wider to help her as I slide my first finger and middle finger together, and press slowly inside.
A groan of helpless devotion comes up from my chest, and Lacie sings grateful praise as she comes again, harder this time, the light of just a few moments ago burning through her with new strength. I kiss every bit of her bare shoulder my lips can reach, and keep our rhythm as she revels.
“Father,” she coos, lush and lost-sounding in her passion. “Father, God, Marc, Hallowed–God, God …”
“I’m here,” I assure her, tilting my face toward her cheek, wanting beautiful, nearly incoherently murmuring lips against mine. I rub her back, gently soothing small shakes while she continues to rock so shyly.
“God, Marc …” she whispers, opening and sliding and burning along my fingers. “Father.”

The beckoning this truth on her lips fills me with has always elated me. God’s most precious flock has always been mine to tend to, and hearing it now, with the collar she’s still holding brushing along my neck, opens a feeling like a promise kept in me. And I know why it’s so gratifying to hear.

It’s encouraging.

No matter where we go or what happens tomorrow, I’m going to always be to this person what I have always been. I’m her keeper, called
and consecrated to care for every need He’s laid within her, with or without my collar.

There’s nothing more natural than this love.

Melting in my arms, Lacie settles as close as she can to me, but her breathing remains ragged and rapid. The skin on her back is overheated under my touch, and I nuzzle a low hum into her chest.

“Lacie, look at me,” I whisper as I stroke, lovingly soothing newborn nerves and calming overwhelmed little synapses. I lift my head and find hazel irises beaming under her lashes, looking just as lost in love as she sounds.
Leaning back just enough, I ease my touch from her with care, trading her drawn out gasp for a gently deep kiss before pulling my undershirt off and away. I gather her to me with both arms, bringing her heartbeat that much closer to mine, and she gives all of her weight to me in the most tender surrender.

With my hands in her hair, across her shoulders, down her spine and pressed against the small of her back, Lacie rocks in the most precious little dips like I’m still within her. I feel her anew, heavenly hot and sweetly swelled, soaking through delicate lace and vocational black as she presses closer, her thighs tensing with want to close while my lap holds her open.
“Stay with me,” I beseech, holding her eyes as she rides need that’s lifting us both closer to purpose with every slide. “Eyes here, love. Stay here with me.”

She nods, and I gather all the breath my chest has room for, keeping her eyes as I return my right hand to soft, soft purity. Kissed-so-pink lips fall open as her hold tightens and lashes like wings flutter for contact restored.
“I’m right here,” I whisper, directing desire heavy lashes up as I move lace aside to give her my touch.

Shuddering as she takes a purposefully slow breath, my fulfillment of the law nods. I can feel her pulse skipping through her veins and the powerful, instinctive rhythm in her hips, but her awareness is static. Her lids clench as I gently circle slick innocence with my same two fingertips, and when her eyes open again, endless black longing dilates precocious hazel to a thin rim.

“Yes, Father,” she intones, but the sounds pass straight from her heart through her lips. As fast as they’re born, her thoughts are burning.

I curve my left hand along her jaw, and she rolls her head into my touch, so relaxed she’s nearly limp as her hips roll toward my right fingers. Under her skirt and between her legs, I press and circle my thumb around her tiniest little ache and place my middle fingertip where she’s struggling to let me in. Her open mouth pleads sweet notes, and I can see her straining to keep her eyes on mine, blinking away earnest impatience as I rub my thumb across her bottom lip.

“Do you know you’re mine, Lacie?” I ask.

Her eyebrows lift in helplessness, and her answer is immediate.

“Yes, Father. Yours.”

Between her legs, I slow my touch, giving heavy pressure with my thumb as I curl my fingertip toward me, pulling her gently, insistently open.

The sound that pours from her is the brightest lamp unto my truest calling.

“Lacie …” I draw her name out and mimic the soft persistence with my touch, guiding her closer to me and further open little by tiny, precious, patient little.

She moans, her brows furrowing as she fights to keep her lashes up. Weakened arms and legs tense around me, and I hear my collar bending with need in her hand.

“Do you know I’m yours?” I ask, cradling the back of her head and circling my right thumb around where she’s smallest and most sensitive once more.

Helpless and desperate as a fire, she’s next to impossible to overcome as she arches to bring me inside, but I keep my touch carefully only barely within and cradle her firmly.

“Tell me, agna Dei,” I whisper, curving just deeper inside God’s sweetest lamb, helping her open with gently purposeful turns. “Do you know I’m yours?”

“Yes,” she pleads. “Yes, yes.”

I groan, my lashes as low as hers as I slip deeper into where she’s softest and smallest, most soaked and most susceptible. Scripture burns through my veins and into conscious thought as she cries out, desperate. Seeking focus and control, I swallow, but the words are already on my lips.

“I cleave myself to you, Lacie.”

Beloved light closes her eyes as she tries to lift and arch again, and I bring her face to mine.

“Unconditionally.” I breathe the word over her lips and kiss her.

“Generously.” I draw slow circles with my thumb.

“Selflessly.” I kiss her deeper.

“Solemnly and sincerely and benevolently.” I press deeper and curve more, guiding swelled and supple warmth further open.

“Forever,” I whisper along her parted lips.

“Forever,” she repeats. It’s not untrue; it’s an echo of my word like my light is a reflection of her light, but it’s automatic. It spills from her tongue before she’s even tasted it.

And this is too important.

We’re here in forgiveness for our rushing, and I want to heed His grace in every way.

“No,” I tell her softly, tilting my head to kiss her jaw as I slow her down like I should have the first time, all those nights ago. Following the slope of blushed skin, over rosary beads, to her ear, I whisper as I hold her still. “No, Lacie.”
Leaning back, she opens her eyes. Confused and glossy and so close to running over, they hold mine as I swallow and bring her ever closer.
“Aeternum,” I say around a breath, securing her to me with my arm as I sink my touch all the way within, still curled and tugging.

Forever.

Shaking through a shallow inhale, I feel the temperature of her skin rise, and her heart thumps a heavy beat right against mine, acknowledging my nearness. It praises our love, communicating with its only touch as understanding dawns inside her eyes with those three syllables.

“Aeternum, Father,” she returns in the prettiest notes.

Forever,
she promises,
and I know.

She hears me.

This is more than the sacrament of just marriage. No person could put asunder what we share in Him, and death will not part us.

Forever doesn’t mean the rest of our lives.
Forever has no beginning and no end.
“Amen,” I whisper, curling my touch and stroking gladhearted praise along her softest, hottest place.

Unable to be still and without call to, Lacie blushes deeper pink, and a smile I love more than sunlight curves her lips. Slick lashes fall closed as I bring her closer, letting her ride easily now. I brush my free hand through her hair and bend my neck to whisper in her ear.
“You’re mine in the eyes of the church now, little lamb.”

My own smile grows as I speak the words, and she nods, circling her arms around my neck.

“I am,” she whispers.
I press deeper and stroke with purpose.

“You’re mine to love, forever and always,” I whisper along her ear. “In all ways, Lacie.”
She moans into my neck, and the pitch of recognition is so sweet I lift my hips like a reflex, desperate to feel complete.
The lush kisses she presses against my skin draw a low moan from my lips, and she shifts her weight forward, warmth clinging everywhere.
 
Hungry for the sight of sacred surrender, my eyes open and the light that’s always on in the apse is the first thing I see. It pushes darkness away from the altar as love rocks against me, and ever so slowly, I ease my touch from her.
Shivering a fragile sigh, she tightens her arms around my neck. As I bring my right arm under her and curl my left around her back, Lacie buries her face in my chest, and I stand. Over the creak of the pew and the rhythm of my footsteps, I hear her whispering.
Right over my heart, little light glows, and grace pours from her.