We are married within weeks. I like to believe it is true love or something of the sort, but I think it has more to do with why most marriages take place...we can't keep our hands off each other. Even though we know there is no way we will end up requiring a shotgun wedding...it is just the way we have both been raised. Marriage before sex. So marriage it is.
I wear a stunning ivory gown; ivory, because I feel white is no longer appropriate. Emmett looks, well, edible is the most appropriate word. Definitely edible. He has the broadest shoulders and chest I think I have ever seen. Our parlor is covered in a myriad of ivory roses; I can't bear to have the pink that were once in my wedding fantasies. We marry on the stroke of midnight, which I think is absolutely terrifying for the father who performs the ceremony, but you throw enough money at a person, and they will do pretty much anything. Thank you for that lesson, Royce.
The rest of the Cullen's disappear the moment the ceremony is concluded, they know us well already. We have no desire for a reception. Straight to the honeymoon.
Emmett scoops me up into his enormous arms, and with his new vampire speed has me upstairs and into our magnificent four poster bed before I can blink.
Another split second and he has shredded his suit. I refuse to allow such speed with my dress, however desperate I am. I intend on preserving it. He makes a fumbling attempt to undo the buttons on the back, begging me, after undoing the first 4, to allow him to just rip the rest away. A stern no, and I have them all undone myself, to stand proud and glorious before him in my suspenders, garter and slip.
Emmett roars, sounding remarkably like the bear that led him to me, and leaps, dragging me with him on his flight to the bed which promptly smashes. We're too busy pulling and pushing and grabbing to even notice.
Emmett proves to be big in every possible way, and my hands gravitate towards him. I'm not much in the mood for foreplay, and I have him positioned and impaled before he has even half raised my slip. So he just rips it. Fortunately for the rest of my garments, they manage to stay intact, but barely. We are writhing and flailing with such ferocity the remnants of the broken bed are being ground to dust. Emmett, desperate to push further into me, shoves me against the wall, leaving an enormous dent, and I laugh, I scream, I cry...I have found everything I could want in every possible way with this man. There is no gentleness, which I am thankful for, I don't want gentleness, I want savagery. I want my hair pulled, my skin to be torn and bleeding; in point of fact I want a caveman who will bludgeon me and drag me off to have his way with me. Which is precisely the kind of man Emmett is. Someone I can trust, who can give me the rough release I desire. Our efforts send us crashing through the wall and yelling our relief.
The next day is spent repairing our damage. And creating a new mess. We are left to ourselves for an entire week, repeating this process countless times.