Page 186 of Kingmakers, Graduation

I look up at the sky through the lacework of branches, cumming slowly with a sound like a sigh.

Adrik sets my hips down, then places his hands on either side of me, looking down into my face as he slides his cock inside me. I’m wet and swollen and extremely sensitive. I squirm under him, barely able to stand it.

He pillows my head on his arm, cradling me, thrusting into me slow and deep.

“Tell me you love me,” he says.

“I love you so much it hurts.”

“Tell me you’llalwayslove me.”

“I couldn’t stop if I wanted to.”

“I’ll make you happy,” he says. “You don’t have to be afraid.”

“I’m never afraid when I’m with you.”

His arm tightens, pulling my head against his shoulder. His body is tight and immensely strong on top of me. Every muscle contracts as he thrusts deeper and harder, driving his cock all the way inside.

“You’re everything to me,” he groans. “My whole entire world …”

“Ya tebya lyublyu, Adrichek…”I whisper.I love you, Adrik…

He cums as deep as he can, then relaxes, pressing me into the ground. His body is heavy, warm, and spent.

We lay there, breathing in the same cadence, our hearts beating at the same time.

The wedding will takeplace on the lakeshore right at sunset.

We kept the guest list as small as possible—just the people who love us most.

I dress in the small bridal suite close to where we’ll eat after the ceremony, the tables bearing garlands of fresh ranunculus and olive leaves, covered over by canopies of gauzy white muslin that float in the breeze off the lake.

My mom finds a minute wrinkle on the skirt of my dress and takes it into the back room to steam.

Sloane pokes her head in while I’m sitting at the vanity in my crinoline and bra.

“Come in, come in!” I call to her.

“I don’t want to interrupt you?—”

“You’re not!”

She joins me at the vanity, sinking down on a ruffled pink pouf that could not be more incongruous to Sloane’s style.

Her dress is sleek and simple, her dark hair parted on the side and pinned with a bronze clip. The green of her dress pulls out the same color in her hazel eyes.

She takes my hand and squeezes it, smiling at me. Her fingers are strong like my mom’s—both capable women who work with their hands.

“I brought you something,” she says. “Not for today, just for you to have.”

She holds out a little box to me, the velvet patchy and worn.

I open it up.

Nestled inside is a pair of garnet earrings, as rich and dark as pomegranate.

I lift one of the earrings. It dangles from my fingers like a teardrop, heavy and glimmering.

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