Page 23 of Ceremony of Lust

Damn, the ignorance and curiosity of this girl! “She did things for me, and they brought me pleasure.”

“Like what?”

I pop up from the couch, ready to leave because this conversation isn’t proper. Even us being alone together isn’t proper, yet she draws me closer with these seemingly innocent questions. “Yael, do not push me. I’m warning you.”

“If I can’t bring you pleasure, then what will stop you from seeking out someone else? Someone with more experience and knowledge?” There’s a slight tilt of her head, and even though her face is soft and gentle, there’s also brutal honesty.

“I won’t,” I promise.

“Then will you teach me, Zev?” She treads across the room deliberately until she’s in front of me, her brown eyes big and begging for information. How can she only be eighteen when she looks at me this way? One hand lifts inch by inch until she places it against my chest. “Your heart is beating like crazy.”

“I know,” I say breathlessly. It’s a risky move, but I reach up and brush her hair from her shoulder before letting my hand tangle in her long, dark tresses. “You want me to teach you, Yael? I think you’re the one who will do the instructing. I want to learn how to be good for you. Teach me how to be a man worthy of someone so pure and innocent.”

She lifts onto her tiptoes, leaving her face inches from mine. I remain perfectly still as she tentatively leans forward and presses our lips together. God, how I want to take absolutely everything from her right now. My hands ache to feel her soft, slight curves under them, and my lips tremble at the thought of drinking in more of her sweetness.

The kiss is over before it even started. Nothing more than a whisper, but I don't see shame or regret when I look down at my future wife. I see desire and lust. She backs up one step, but I latch on to her hand and pull her toward me.

“You have no idea what you’re doing, do you?” Moments ago, Yael was so confident in her demands, and now, with me pressed against her, she’s trembling my arms. She canfeelwhat she does to me, and satisfaction swells in my chest.Yes, sweetheart.That’s all me. “The next time that happens, be prepared.”

“For what?” Her challenge is a trembling whisper.

I accept her challenge with a growl. “For me to claim what is mine.”

“Is that all I am to you? A possession?”

“As soon as we’re married, you’ll be my greatest possession. If you weren’t, Anders Huxley wouldn’t have tried to scare you away.”

13

Yael

The next twodays are strictly business between Zev and me. Whenever he’s close, and I can smell his fresh, clean scent, I become confused. There is so much about the relationship between a husband and a wife I don’t understand, and the curiosity inside me grows more and more each day.

The dresses Zev left for me to choose from are borderline indecent. They push the limits of modesty, yet they’re absolutely beautiful. When I try them on and look at myself in the mirror, I don’t see a girl who just turned eighteen. I see someone ready to blossom and grow into womanhood.

“You cannot wear such a dress,” my grandmother scolds me from the doorway of my bedroom. “It’s far too scandalous for the Temple. What will everyone think?”

“I don’t care what everyone thinks. The only thing that matters is what my husband thinks.” My reflection smiles back at me; it’s full of secret desires for the man I will marry tomorrow.

“Dr. Hartman will be here soon to . . . talk about what to expect on your wedding night.” My grandmother says this as she bustles around the kitchen, and I notice her refusal to look me in the eye.

“Talk to me about what?” I ask, teasing her.

“Yael, please! Don’t be wicked. Honestly, what’s gotten into you?”

I laugh at her discomfort. “I’m sorry, Grandmother. I couldn’t help myself.”

When Dr. Hartman arrives, it’s hard for me to concentrate on what she tells me, if only because it’s not what I want to know.

“So, Yael, are you nervous about your wedding night?” Dr. Hartman’s voice is sweet and matches her youthful face and kind smile.

“Of course, I am. I want to be a good wife,” I answer honestly.

She produces two objects from her bag and sets them on the table. “These will help you,” she says.

The first is an ordinary bottle of ibuprofen. The second is a bottle filled with a clear liquid. “How will those help me?”

Dr. Hartman scans the kitchen and lowers her voice to a whisper. “Your first time will most likely hurt, and sometimes, a man can be quite rough on the wedding night. The liquid will help make his entrance a little easier.” She flicks open the cap and pours a dab on her finger. “Have Zev rub it on himself before he starts. When he finishes, take two ibuprofen to prevent any soreness.”