To Save an Angel

eighteen

Marco

THE REST OF THE CEREMONY was really for the guest, all of which I knew. Salvatore and his kids, his wife couldn't make it. Luciano and his girlfriend.

Some friends of Sal, Pietro and DiAngelo, their wives, their kids and their wives/husbands.

A couple other people I knew came, but I wanted Angel to have someone at her wedding that she loved.

Unfortunately, the member of her family that she loved was dead and the rest of them...

I wanted everything to be perfect for her. We left, after we cut the cake, ate some cake, took some pictures. Angel threw the bouquet, and with that, we grabbed Sera and went home.

Luciano told me he'd have my marriage certificate, and the pictures on my desk by tomorrow morning.

Perfect.

When we got home Sera was still sleep, so we put her to bed. The only thing left was...

Well, sleep.

I was undoing my bowtie, when I heard her.

“Marco, can you help me!” Following the sound of her voice, finding her in her her wedding gown, struggling.

That kiss seared behind my eyes. Focus Marco.

“What do you need help with?” Swallowing, I fought hard not to let my accent leak in too strongly.

Contrary to what Angel thinks, I am not a saint. Seeing her walking around the house with just my t-shirt on(it helps her sleep), or soaking wet in a white shirt isn't something I can ignore.

And the wet t-shirt thing happens far more often then you'd think. Sera is messy.

Point is, it is already hard enough seeing her curvy body, those full hips, round ass, soft lips without throwing her down and f*****g her like an animal.

This is testing my boundaries.

“Sure, fatina. I will help you.” Taking a step closer, I notice how small the bathroom really is, compared to my figure.

“What do you need me to do?”

"Just unzip me." That evokes a bit of a grimace from me, but I tug on the small zipper taking care not to rip it.

It goes down down down until it reaches the curve of her ass and dio mio!

Think of something else.

“Do you like the ring I bought you?”

"It gorgeous Marco," she turns around putting us chest to well, chest to abdomen. She's short.

Giving a brilliant smile, she rest her hands on my chest, while talking. That hand felt like hot coals resting on my skin.

“Everything was beautiful, and perfect. I felt like a goddess.”

You are.

“I am glad. You are one, mia dea,”

Lavender sparkles in pure joy, the first time I've ever seen her this happy. Hell, I'd get married to her everyday if made her smile like this.

“Gracias, Marco. Aprecio todo lo que has hecho por mí.”

(I appreciate everything you have done for me.)

I grin. Our languages are very similar, so I can understand what she says. I won't tell her that though. Being a foreigner myself, I use my language as a barrier.

When I want to say something but can't, I say it in Italiano, because most people don't speak it.

Shit the things that could've happened if the people around me understood Italian...

“I got the thank you. The rest is all Greek to me.” Ironically I speak Greek.

“I said I appreciate everything you have done for me. And for Sera.”

That reminds me...

“Speaking of Sera, the immigration department is going to want her birth certificate. I was wondering if we could annex her name—”

“We'll change it. Right now, Sera doesn't have a real last name. Her last name is Santos, but that is not...”

This conversation took a nasty turn, and stole la mia fatina sorrioso.

(My little Fairy's smile)

“I will have it done. Now, let's get out of the bathroom.”

Deliciously sliding against my body she left the bathroom, giving me time to adjust myself, and come out.

“What are we doing for our honeymoon?”

Her eyes got big, her lips parted, eyes glazed over a bit.

“What were you expecting?”

“Truthfully, I was going to suggest we watch a movie and just relax. Take a month off work, do what we want. You?”

“Ahh, sì, sì, me too. What do you want to watch?”

Grinning, I shrug.

“Well, according to all my married friends, you are always right. So whatever you want.”

“I like that rule.” Her teeth graze her bottom lip. I walk out of the room, telling her I had to undress.

Once out of the room, I bit my own lip. Based on my wife's dazed look, I think I might like it too.

I HATE MOVIES. Angel and I are in my room, because I have the biggest TV. She told me she wanted to watch a sad movie. I asked her why, and she said because wanted to, she we are watching, drum roll please... Titanic.

Right now she is in my arms crying.

“Do you want me to turn it off?”

“No.”

“But it is making you cry.”

Unexpectedly, she snuggles into my chest, hiding her face there.

“Make it better.”

I frown. “I cannot make it better, bella. I cannot change the ending.”

“Just please, do something that makes it better. I should've listened to you, this a dumb thing to watch on our wedding night.”

“Wedding morning technically,” That gets a watery giggle from her.

Placing my finger under her chin, lift her head to look at me.

“It is okay, bella. I am here.”

With one more glance at her mouth, I draw her closer. Closer, closer until her lips are on mine, and I am enjoying her kiss.

Her lips are so soft, sending me somewhere else for a minute. When I come to, she is on my lap straddling me, her hands in my hair, my hands cupping her ass and the small of her back.

She is aggressive, taking and taking. My mind flashes to the day we met. She stole my breath then too. I gave it to her willingly, eagerly, like I do now.

Her lips trail provocative kisses down my throat, sending my hips bucking, grinding against her mound, strings of soft curses and moans overlaying the soundtrack of the ending movie.

I give, offer myself to her. She uses me wisely. Our grinding becomes frantic, more desperate, until finally her hands stray to my sweat pants where my erection stands at attention for her.

Aspetta aspetta aspetta, Marco. Rallenta. Questa è la sua notte di nozze ma domani i suoi sentimenti possono cambiare. Sosta prima che va a lontano.

(Wait wait wait, Marco. Slow down. This is her wedding night but tomorrow her feelings may change. Stop before it goes to far.)

Ma, ma ... non vedo l'ora. Vuoi ora. Ne hai bisogno ora. Domani domani, oggi sono acceso.

(But, but...I can't wait. Want her now. Need her now. Tomorrow is tomorrow, today I'm turned on.)

Chissà quanto tempo sarai sposato? Vuoi tutto ciò per vederla?

(Who knows how long you'll be married? Will you screw up everything just to screw her?)

Solo la punta?

(Just the tip?)

Non è mai solo la punta, Marco. Mai.

(It's never just the tip, Marco. Never.)

I hate my conscience, that filgio di puttana! I thought I killed it!

“Aspetto, wait,” Panting, I pull away from her lips only to be pulled back in. “Angel, no more, no more, fatina.”

Like she didn't hear me, she grinded against me harder, moaning lowly when the fabric hit her c**t.

Fuck.

“Baby, no. Stop that, cazzo, are you listening— s**t that feels good!” Throwing back my head, she takes that a go ahead to bite my throat.

Talking wasn't doing anything, she kissed over my talking, even my yelling.

So I did the next best thing.

I got up, her clinging to me, prying her off me, throwing her on my bed why did I think this was a good idea? And stepping away from her.

Breathlessly, I repeated what I had been saying this whole time.

“No, Angel. Not tonight.” Hurt sparkled in her lavender eyes, the ones I could never say no to.

“It is not you Angel. It's just that we just got married, and I—”

“Lo siento,” She whispered correcting herself when she realized she didn't speak English.

“Sorry, I understand.” Getting off the bed she walked away.

“Angel I—”

The door shut leaving me to hold my head in my hands, wondering what the hell happened.

“How did this go so wrong?”