It happened.

I’m Mrs. Dale Steel.

Dale and Ashley Steel.

As if I’m back in middle school, I imagine writing Mr. and Mrs. Dale Steel on the cover of my three-ring binder, complete with ornate calligraphy.

Mom and I talk all during the limo ride to the restaurant for our wedding dinner. Dennis chimes in now and then, but Dale is noticeably silent.

I make it a point not to second-guess him. If he wanted to get out of the wedding, he could have.

He didn’t.

So clearly he wants this as much as I do.

I look down at the sparkler on my left hand. So beautiful, but honestly, the plain white band means more to me. It’s that ring that Dale slipped on my finger as he wed me. After he promised to love me in sickness and health, for richer or poorer, till death do us part.

My hand rests comfortably in his warm and much larger one.

I squeeze his hand slightly.

He squeezes back.

Good sign. Definitely a good sign.

The limo pulls up at our restaurant, the Linen Room. The driver opens the door, and Dale helps me out. We walk in silence into the place.

“I hear the pastry chef here is excellent,” Dennis offers.

“He can’t be any better than you, sweetie,” Mom says, looking up at him with stars in her eyes.

“I guess we’ll all be the judge of that.” Dennis laughs.

“Mr. Steel,” the maître d’ greets Dale. “It’s a privilege to serve you tonight. Your table is ready.”

He leads us to a lovely table in the back of the restaurant, secluded from the rest of the patrons.

And I remember…

I remember the first time Dale took me to a fine restaurant.

We never made it past the appetizers…

We ended up in a hotel room, making furious love, and…

And…

He left me there with two hundred dollars.

I breathe in deeply.

That doesn’t matter. It’s the past. Tonight is the beginning of the future.

“Your server will be with you in a moment, Mr. Steel,” the maître d’ says. “In the meantime, is there anything I can do for you?”

“A bottle of your best Champagne, please,” Dale says.

Cristal. That’s what he ordered that night in Grand Junction. Dom Pérignon is probably what the sommelier will bring tonight. It’s considered the best.

“Absolutely.” The maître d’ bows slightly and leaves.

The bow. I can’t help a smile. The bowing thing bothers Dale. Will I bow when I’m a sommelier in a place such as this?

Probably.

It’s what we’re taught to do.

The bubbly arrives within minutes, and after Dale tastes it and pronounces it “fine,” the sommelier, presumably, a young woman with short red hair, pours four flutes.

Dale raises his glass. “To my lovely wife,” he says softly.

“And to mine,” Dennis agrees.

We clink, and I take a sip.

It’s crisp and tasty, as usual. A little citrus, a little wood, a little mineral. Perfect on the tongue.

“This is just the most wonderful wedding day I could have asked for,” Mom says. “The man of my dreams, and the man of my little girl’s dreams.”

“Absolutely,” I agree wholeheartedly.

Dinner passes in a blur.

I think I order salmon.

I think Dale and Dennis order the chocolate soufflé for four for dessert, and I think my mother says it’s not as good as Dennis’s.

I think we ride to the Cosmopolitan in the limo after dropping Mom and Dennis back at the Rio.

And I think Dale takes me to a suite. My stuff is already there. He had it all moved.

And I think…

I think…

Then I stop thinking.

I stop thinking because Dale is kissing me, undressing me, taking me to bed for the first time as his wife.

No more thinking.

Only feeling.

Feeling as he peels my new dress from my body.

Feeling as he trails his lips from my mouth to my cheek, my earlobe, my neck, my shoulder…

Feeling as he flicks his tongue over one hard nipple and then the other.

Feeling as he sucks the nipple between his lips, bites it lightly…

Then not so lightly…

Feeling as he lays me on the bed, spreads my legs, and dives between them.

One orgasm.

Then two. Three. Four.

Until finally he flips me over and slides his tongue between my ass cheeks.

And I know it’s time.

Time for anal.

Slap!

His hand comes down on my ass.

He growls. “Fuck.”

Has he done anal before? Doesn’t matter. Already I know it will be the best ever.

“Okay?” he groans, probing my ass with the tip of his finger.

“Whatever you want…” I sigh.

“Fuck,” he growls again.

Warmth coats my ass. Lube. Lube that he warmed in his hand. I’m still in a haze from my orgasms and from my marriage.

It’s all so unreal.

Yet it’s real. I’m here. Dale’s here. And he’s about to take my ass.

“Have you done this before?” I can’t help asking.

“Does it matter?”

“No.”

Then his warm cock is sliding between my cheeks, stopping at my entrance. I lift my hips in further invitation.

“Ah!” The pain is sharp as he slides in balls deep.

He begins to pull out—

“Wait! Let me get used to it.”

Then he pulls out completely.

I look over my shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“Apparently I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“You’re doing fine.”

He yanks the band out of his hair, letting it flow over his shoulders. “I didn’t even know how to hold your hand at first. What the hell made me think I could make love to you this way?”

I was right. He’s never done it before. And I love him all the more.

I wish I could give him something that I’ve never done before.

“Hey,” I say. “I trust you. This is the ultimate gift, and I want to give it to you tonight. Our wedding night.”

He scoffs. “You’ve given it away before, haven’t you?”

“Does it matter?”

“Hell, yes, it matters!” He rakes his fingers through his hair, making it a mass of gold around his perfect face.