Vows were exchanged with a quiet intensity that left no doubt of the couple’s devotion. Imani’s speech was soft, yet direct. Roman’s was the same, yet his dark eyes sparkled with playful mischief that grew more vivid with every word passed between them.
Father Khalid Oyeleran pronounced the couple man and wife and urged Roman to kiss his bride.
“I’m never letting you go-I hope you know you’re never getting rid of me,” Roman vowed while claiming his wife’s mouth with his kiss.
“Do you promise?” She whispered.
“I do,” he said, joining her when she laughed.
~15~
The reception carried on into the small hours of the morning. Long before that time though, Roman and Imani stumbled into the bridal suite that had been especially furnished in their own private wing of the Kamande home.
Like two drunks, the couple leaned on one another, arm in arm and laughing wildly.
“What was in that drink Pitch kept throwin’ back?!” Roman’s question was wrapped in laughter.
“Nipa?” Imani’s response held on a similar chord. “My mother loves it.”
“I think she’s the one who introduced it to him,” Roman mused.
“Yes, they definitely hit it off,” Imani recalled. “Candace says he has a way with older women.”
“He did. That legacy may be in jeopardy when word gets out that Nipa puts him on his ass.”
Indeed, the brew had Pitch passing out right after his brother and new sister-in-law cut their wedding cake. The Palm Wine and potent Nipa had been poured non-stop during the party, Food offerings included Macaza which were grilled shellfish kabobs and Bacalhao, a flavorful salted cod. There was also a smorgasbord of American delights-cakes, casseroles and cobblers among them.
Roman’s and Imani’s highs weren’t induced by the abundance of food and drink however, but by a much more intoxicating entity.
Roman relaxed against the double doors of the suite and locked himself inside with his bride. His ebony stare followed Imani intently while she twirled the room in her wedding dress.
“It’s made right here on my parents’ property, you know?” She went on discussing the strong drink. “Out of cashew nuts, if you can believe that,” she laughed then twirled a bit more, absolutely in love with her dress far more than she expected to be. She rarely bought into the whole princess thing, but had to admit the day and the dress had made her feel like precisely that.
She eventually came to a stop and smiled at her husband leaning on the door, his hands hidden in his trouser pockets. “I’m glad Pitch and your father could be here,” she said.
“So am I,” Roman tugged away the white bow tie that already hung loose at his neck.
It was suddenly clear to Imani that the time for reminiscing over their reception had passed for the moment. Wisps of her earlier uncertainty began to shimmer in the closer Roman drew to her. Imani held her ground, determined not to shrink back like some frightened kitten. She was about to experience what she had literally begged him for, after all.
Nevertheless, the breath she tried to keep steady, caught in her throat when he moved around behind her. Imani had never considered herself a small girl. Roman Tesano had a way of making her feel delicate-decidedly feminine and she adored the feeling. Wearing only the wedding slippers, she felt even more delicate when he drew near and dwarfed her.
Playfully, Roman tugged her unadorned earlobe and then let his finger trail the side of her neck and across a bare shoulder. He moved even closer to whisper near her ear.
“Time to take this off, Princess.”
Imani tried to respond, cleared her throat noisily when words refused her. “They had to help me into it,” she told him.
Roman surveyed the gown that was spectacular to be sure but looked completely inaccessible to him. “How’d they do that, exactly?”
Imani’s brow wrinkled. “It’s a blur. Three zippers, I think.”
“A blur?”
“I had other things on my mind...”
“Me,” He spoke the word against her cheek and then cupped her jaw. Tipping her head back, he helped himself to her mouth. As they kissed, he found the zipper at her back and tugged.
Their kiss gained intensity. Roman took Imani’s mouth more voraciously until her moans and whimpers accented the room. He retreated a step when the zipper parted and the top silken layer of the gown separated from the underskirts.
For a time, Roman’s dark eyes fixed on her chest, heaving with a growing urgency that steadily pushed the dark mounds from their strict confines. Close behind her once more, Roman drew a kiss across her nape, lingering at the spot as he searched for the next zipper. While one hand worked at the chore, the other played around her bosom. For a few moments, he simply let the back of his hand rest there. He took supreme pleasure in the rhythmic thump of her pulse keeping time to the rise and fall of her full bustline.
When that torture grew too unbearable, Roman slipped his fingers into the deep valley between her breasts and depended their kiss. Imani gasped loudly in reaction to the contact. Expertly, Roman insinuated his fingers into the snug bodice until he found a nipple and launched a scandalous exploration of the firm peak.
Imani felt unsteady on her feet then, but Roman was there with a supportive arm around her waist. She was torn between meeting the hungry thrusts his tongue gave hers or moaning and panting to show her appreciation for the tweaks and rubs he put to her nipples. She was desperate to turn in his arms, but he refused the move. To show her disagreement, Imani beat her fist against the steely forearm at her waist.
Roman understood her impatience. He was impatient too and it could prove unfortunate for her if he gave into it. He was desperate to cool what drove him to make her his in the only way that counted. She deserved more than that. She was going to be his forever. He wanted her to desire him, not to dread him.
Unfortunately, his efforts to move slowly, were driving him toward doing the opposite. She clutched his hand wedged half into her bodice and caused him to break their kiss.
“Imani please,” he sighed at her temple.
She leaned into his mouth. “I want to...”
“Then let me go slow, okay? I want you to like this.”
His words carried on an innocent chord that endeared him even more to her. Imani marveled over the reality and wondered if she could ever fall more in love with him than she already had. She could see them reflected in the floor mirror across the room. The dress underskirts still billowed around her. Roman continued to epitomize the fairytale prince in the white tux he wore. He stood close and kept her secure in his embrace-treasured, adored. She had her answer. She could fall more in love with him. She already loved him more now than she had when she’d become his wife earlier that day.
Imani hadn’t sensed the billowing skirts loosen around her until Roman was bending to slip one arm beneath her knees while the other braced behind her back. She blinked, realizing she wore only a cotton chemise, stockings and the dainty slippers when he lifted her from the mounds of fabric.
