A Thing Called Love

Chapter 17

Rosemarie woke to the grinning figure of Elvis Presley staring down at her. Warmth spread through her at the look in his eye. A better man could not be found in this world and somehow, for reasons she would never be able to explain, he was meant for her. Somehow it felt as if every experience in her life, the good and the bad, all summed up to create this moment. This perfect moment she would treasure as long as she lived. She now suddenly knew what her mother meant when she said that it was the little things.

This man, a man who was akin to a god to some, a man who should logically consider himself above common folk, looked at her as though she was a goddess though some of his fans clearly despised her if only on principal.

"Mornin'," he whispered in his smooth, deep voice.

"Good morning, honey." Her hand moved to his head on its own volition, running through a head of hair that was already a mess.

"Not sure if it's a good one. Honeymoon's over." Elvis threw himself down onto the bed dramatically. "I don't wanna."

"Me neither," Rosemarie admitted. "A week is hardly enough, is it?"

"A month ain't enough," Elvis grumbled.

"Well on the bright side, we're still married."

Elvis let out a low chuckle. "I'd hope so. You better not wanna dump me already. We've only been married for a week."

"No. Till death do us part."

"You bet." Elvis rolled over, moving his lips to suck at her pulse. Elvis only chuckled when she gave him a slight shove. Her half-hearted struggles ceased quickly, her soft moans heating his blood, aching with need as he rocked against her, her legs wrapping around his waist to draw him closer. Elvis trailed a path of hot, open mouthed kisses along her jaw and throat, parting the buttons of her night gown to expose slightly tanned skin to his seeking lips.

"Again?" Rosemarie laughed softly, but refrained from further attempts to protest when he said, "You bet. Honeymoon, remember?"

Soon they would be returning to a four bedroom, two bathroom house that was occupied by five other people. There was no reason to complain, it was nice and cozy, but despite their newly acquired status of husband and wife, they wouldn't be able to do as they desired as far as bedroom activities went.

Maybe they would once they made it to Graceland. Or maybe this was as good as it would ever get for them. Rosemarie knew that the reality of being married wasn't anything like the honeymoon and part of her couldn't help but worry. Being a wife, particularly the wife of such a perfect man, was without a doubt a harder job than controlling a classroom of thirty rambunctious ten year olds.

But he would take her back here next year. He'd promised, and there had been a look of conviction in his eyes when he did and though she knew that taking anything a man told as a fact would only lead to heartbreak she couldn't help it when it came to Elvis.

Elvis' hands traveled down her body, his touch like fire on her skin. Rosemarie caught the mischievous glint in his eye. A shiver of slight fear and anticipation went through her and sure enough, Elvis grasped her by the arms and flipped over, pulling her on top of him. One of his hands gave her behind a slap, hard enough to sting just a bit.

"Have I been such a bad girl, Mr. Presley?" she asked in faux outrage, wiggling underneath the grasp he had on her butt cheek.

"Yes," Elvis growled. "A very very bad girl. I like it when you're bad."

"Well, then why are you punishing me for it? That hardly makes sense, now does it? How would you like it if I slapped you?"

"On my..." Elvis trailed off to plant a kiss on her lips.