They replaced recollections of a food-poisoned wedding night with a do-over: fine dining dressed in wedding attire, a limo ride home.
Tonight he carried her across the threshold instead of joining her at the hospital.
They were needy after recovery, work, and celebratory preparations. By the time he kicked the door closed behind them, they wanted each other—immediately.
She clutched at him, afraid to be parted again, her hunger urging her on.
Her dress fell away as he clawed at her fastenings. No fancy corset this time; she learned the hard way it meant little. In his desperate scrabbling to bare her flesh, he broke her pearl necklace.
“No. Don’t apologize.” She pressed her lips to his to stop his words, stepping out of the gown to kneel down upon it.
She stopped his words again, with her warm, eager mouth, working his turgid member with her lips and tongue in rapid strokes.
“Love, I’m so close—”
She pulled away, using her hands to finish him. looking into his desire-heavy eyes as he moaned through his release.
“There. A new necklace.” She smiled, craning her neck to the side, to show her now-relaxed husband her handiwork.
Copyright © 2013 Femme Malheureuse Words: 199 Originally submitted to Sinful Sunday—Week 37 via Rebecca Grace Allen Photo prompt: origin unknown | Word prompt: pearl necklace