Free Love Like Hallelujah by Lutishia Lovely

keyboardist began playing the instrumental wedding march, Luther Vandross’s “Wait for Love.” When the saxophone joined in with the melody, Hope, led by her father, came around the side of the boat. She was radiant. Every eye was on her. Her eyes were on Cy. A solitary tear slid down her face as he stood beaming.
    After Mr. Jones had escorted his daughter to the front, he joined his ex-wife. Having a child together created a lifetime bond, and both had put differences aside, even if temporarily, to be united in this moment. Cy reached for Hope’s hand and held it gently as her poem, “The One,” was read by a childhood friend. They turned and looked into each other’s eyes as Eric Benet’s duet with Tamia, “Spend My Life,” was performed with enchanting loveliness:
    “Can I just see you every morning when I open my eyes?
    Can I just feel your heart beating beside me every night?
    Can we just feel this way together till the end of all time?”
    In these moments, Cy’s only thoughts were for the ceremony to be over, the guests to be gone, and Hope to be in his arms. Hope was thinking the exact same thing. The rest of the ceremony went by in a longing-induced fog, repeating the vows, the ring, the kiss, purposely chaste so as not to fan the already searing flames of desire.
    And then it was official. Cy and Hope were pronounced man and wife. Bubbles were blown as the couple walked around the boat lined with guests, hugging and thanking each one for their presence. While this was happening, the caterers set up a sumptuous feast of tenderloin steak, baked chicken and fish, a roasted vegetable medley, and rice pilaf. Simeon toasted the couple, who in turn toasted the guests with their choice of either Krug’s Clos du Mesnil champagne or sparkling juice. Once the bubbly started flowing, the evening began in earnest. By the time the almond-vanilla frosted carrot cake had been eaten, toasts made, dances danced, and the boat finished sailing around the marina and docked outside the Ritz-Carlton, folks were speculating on who could get married next so they could have an excuse to enjoy such fun all over again.
     
    Cy and Hope faced each other in the middle of the king-sized bed. Maria, Cy’s housekeeper, had cleaned up the day’s mess and, with Frieda’s help, had set a romantic stage in the bedroom, with candles, orchid petals, and burning, scented oil. The newlyweds each held a glass of sparkling champagne with bobbing strawberries. Both were naked, having enjoyed a relaxing, sensual bath in the penthouse Jacuzzi. They’d explored and pleasured each other’s bodies. Their senses heightened by months of agonizing celibacy, the first orgasms came quickly. It was just the beginning, though. Cy planned for Hope to be thoroughly satisfied from head to toe before the night was over. Hope had likewise secretly vowed to make her husband’s pleasure her singular focus, believing that if she took care of his needs, she too would be satisfied.
    “A toast to you, Mrs. Hope Taylor,” Cy began, “the woman of my dreams.” He reached out and gently pinched her nipple, which took notice immediately. Hope’s quick intake of breath made him smile. He leaned over, nipped it, licked it, and continued. “It will be my life’s mission to make you happy, woman, to satisfy you in every possible way. I’m so happy you’re in my life, baby, and I will spend a lifetime trying to repay you for how happy you’ve made me.”
    Hope drank in his words of love. She tried not to cry—there had been enough tears for the day. But she was so happy, beyond her wildest imaginings. She took a breath and returned a toast of her own. “When I prayed to God for a husband, it was you I longed for in my heart. I didn’t know your name, or what you looked like, but I knew how I’d feel when I was near you…like I do right now. I love you, baby.”
    They raised their glasses and toasted new love. Finishing quickly, they fed each other the