His hand slipped easily into hers as they sped off into their future.

The chapel bells still could be heard in the distance and the sky was the most beautiful blue that either of them had ever seen.

Rosalie still had her long and overly intricate wedding dress on. She loved the way she looked and felt in it.

They had intended on keeping the wedding cheap and simple. Her mother had taken her to look at wedding gowns and she tried several that were in the hundred dollar range, Then finally on the third or fourth, she found her dress, the one that made her look and feel like a princess.

They fitted her for it and made the adjustments and then to her horror when they rung it up she heard the words, "That'll be five thousand, Mrs. Jennings." She gasped. Her mom gasped, credit card outstretched in her hand, frozen in place, She could feel her heart sinking a little.

And then, to her shock, her mom had handed over the card and turned to her and said, "You deserve this. It's the right dress for you. Whatever makes my girl happy." Rosalie smiled. Despite all the things that had happened this was going to be the greatest wedding, the best day of her life. She'd live happily ever after. All the past sad would be washed away.

The dress was white and pure and it made Rosalie feel purer than she had ever felt before. But it wasn't just that. It was also Morgan. He made her feel that way. Her heart soared with happiness and hope whenever they were together.

They drove onwards towards their honeymoon destination. At eighteen and nineteen it was their first trip alone. It felt amazing.

They couldn't afford to go far so they drove to a nearby art town where Rosalie had been several times as a child. It was filled with all kinds of wonderful things like toy shops, and street art. Galleries galore. Music in the street. It was her wonderland. Morgan had only been once but somehow he remembered how to get there and drove straight there without the GPS. She was impressed.

They arrived at their hotel and checked in and began kissing passionately when suddenly Morgan yawned right into the kiss. "Baby, I'm seriously tired. I didn't sleep all night because I was nervous. Do you mind if I sleep some?" Of course, she shook her head but that was a lie. She did mind. This was not how she envisioned her honeymoon. She imagined it filled with passion, not a nap.

So instead of having him rip off her wedding dress, she took it off herself. 'How romantic,' she thought sadly.

She sat on the bed quietly contemplating as he snored next to her, All her life she had imagined something sultry passionate, But she guessed life really wasn't a romance novel or Gone With the Wind after all.

She also felt herself brooding over the fact that his parents had shown up uninvited to their wedding, dressed in black in the front row, glaring at her. So when the preacher had told the couple to kiss she made it extra long and hard just for their benefit.

Who knew why they hated her. Something about her lack of manners and how she didn't stand when they entered the room had been mentioned. Why should she stand for them? she pondered, her face turning a bit red with anger.

This was supposed to be the greatest time of her life and she shouldn't be thinking of these assholes.

She picked up a travel brochure on the nightstand and began flipping through it.

"Come downtown to the historic Denton Square," the first page read. She flipped it and continued reading, scanning quickly, and stopped upon a picture of a lovely looking blonde standing next to an easel. She felt herself smiling a little for some reason and read "Denton's hottest new art gallery, 'Step Into Colour,' run by owner Natalia Volkov and her two daughters, Anya and Katrina."

Rosalie continued looking. The art was wonderful and she could feel herself being drawn in. It showed one painting, a portrait of the saddest looking lady she had ever seen. She couldn't help but stare deeply into dark secretive eyes, completely fascinated. After a few minutes, she realized that it appeared that it was a self-portrait of Natalia Volkov herself.

"Wow," she murmured. 'I need to see more of her work' she thought to herself, suddenly knowing exactly what they would do as soon as Morgan woke from his nap. If he didn't wake soon she would jump on the bed until he did.

She waited a little longer, looking at the clock. It was almost 5 pm now, and if her memory was right things closed pretty early here. So when he didn't wake on his own she stood on the bed and began bouncing.

"Ughhumphfff...," he grunted out. 

"Come on, wake up. I want to go out nowwww," she practically screamed as she continued jumping.

"Okay, okay. I'm getting up. Just give me a minute," he muttered in his tired, groggy tone.

She frowned at him, pouting a little. "We don't have a minute. We are only here for three days and two nights. There's almost no time to do anything." She was whining now because all she could think of was all the things she wanted to do, especially visiting that art gallery; that was the top priority.

While she waited for Morgan to get ready, she quickly dressed in a green and white striped sundress that she had bought just for the trip. It was cute but casual. And a pair of flip flops to match.

Finally, he was ready and gave her a look over, his eyes traveling up and down in a most pleasing manner. "You look stunning babe, absolutely stunning," he said with a grin.

They stepped out of the hotel room. "So shall we walk around or drive?" she asked him.

Morgan thought for a moment. "Let's just walk. Do you have anywhere in mind?" he asked. 

Rosalie smiled. "I was thinking, down to the square and to this art gallery that looked nice. I saw it in the travel brochure in the room."

They walked a ways, down the curvy hills and she realized that flip flops were probably a bad idea. But you couldn't exactly wear tennis shoes with a sundress, it would look tacky.

Rosalie took in everything around her with the eyes of a child in a candy store. Everything felt new and amazing.

They walked past a hippie drum circle that had a familiar scent about it. It smelled like her friends' cars in high school. It smelled like something she would probably never smoke again, and for a minute she found herself frowning a little.

They walked past dozens of stores; Candy shops, pretzel stands, coffee shops. She made note of them but didn't stop. She wanted to get to that gallery before it closed.

Finally, after what seemed like a long spiraling age they found it. "Step Into Colour" the sign read.

She opened the door and Morgan followed her into the small but posh looking room, art canvassing every inch of wall space. 

Almost as soon as they entered they were greeted. "Hello. How may I help you?" Natalia spoke with a slight accent.

Rosalie smiled, instantly recognizing the woman from the picture in the brochure. Some goosebumps formed on her arms.

Her entire life she had admired art and those who had the ability to do it. She felt like the heavens were smiling down on her right at this very moment. She felt as if she was in the presence of someone great.

"We're just looking. You have some really amazing pieces," she said looking at the sad lady portrait that was featured in the brochure.

Natalia nodded at her. "Thank you. That is me in that portrait. I think I managed to capture my inner soul successfully," she said in a matter of fact tone.

Rosalie tilted her head with curiosity and thought, 'A sad inner soul, such as my own.' 

Morgan was no doubt a little bored. Even though he did occasionally like some kinds of art he had wandered off to the far end of the gallery.

She felt nervous in Natalia's presence. But she really wasn't sure why. The words she tried to form stuck in her throat but she knew she wanted to talk with her and forced herself to say something.

"How long have you been doing art?" she asked awkwardly. 'Doing art. Was that the right way to say it,' she wondered.

A small smile formed on Natalia's gorgeous face. "I have been most of my life. It's my passion. This world is full of cages but you can keep yourself free by finding the thing you love most and putting yourself into that instead."

Rosalie felt her heart going crazy. "That was the deepest thing anyone has ever said to me." She meant to only think to herself but accidentally said it out loud, just loud enough that Natalia heard.

"It's not deep at all, darling, it's just the truth," she said, but with a soft, knowing smile on her face.

Rosalie's cheeks were glowing red with embarrassment. She was easily flustered sometimes and this gorgeous and intelligent woman had only said a few words to her and she was feeling faint.

Their eyes met, for the first time since she had walked through the door, She felt herself getting lost a little in Natalia's eyes, So blue, yet not piercing, they were calm and filled with a warm depth.

Finally, Rosalie averted her gaze to an oil painting that hung nearby. Of a stormy ocean and a windswept sailboat fighting its way through a storm. 'a losing battle?' she thought to herself with a bit of melancholy.

Natalia followed her gaze. "That's a painting of a trip I was on. I sailed the pacific ocean one stormy summer. I just enjoyed painting and being alive. What is, or was, your take on it before I described it to you?" she asked thoughtfully.

Rosalie began to speak keeping her eyes on the painting. "I thought it was representative of life really and how we are so small and the world is constantly trying to pull you into its ocean storm, drowning you in its chaos and despair." She felt herself tear up a little as she said it.

Natalia moved closer to her, wrapping her arms around her shoulders in a comforting gesture before leaning in and whispering into Rosalie's ear, "I think I like you a lot already and I don't even know your name."

Rosalie felt her heart jump into her throat before she replied quietly and quite shyly, "It's Rosalie Jennings... I mean Ridgeway." Even though she wasn't looking at her she could almost feel Natalia's smile.

"It's nice to meet you, Rosalie Ridgeway. I'm Natalia Volkov," her tone filling the girl with an aura of confidence.

Rosalie almost said that she already knew but thought better. 'That would seem insanely creepy and stalkerish,' she thought quietly to herself.

She and Natalia continued to talk a little longer and then Morgan, finally done with exploring the room, came over, and a look of confusion flooded across his face when he noticed Rosalie standing not far from the entrance.

"You certainly didn't look around." His tone sounded slightly annoyed. She knew he was thinking, 'why did she bother me to come here when she was just going to look at two paintings'.

"Well, it's nice to have met you, Natalia. I enjoyed talking with you but I suppose we better go. In fact, "she said looking at the clock above, "you technically closed more than thirty minutes ago."

Natalia smiled at her again. "It's not every day you meet someone you feel you have so much in common with. I'd have stayed open as long as you wanted." 

Rosalie felt her cheeks flush and something within her that she didn't quite understand began to stir.

Morgan looked at Natalia for the first time, really, and made a brief, not to be rude, introduction for himself. And Rosalie could tell that Natalia could care less.

As they were walking out the door Natalia looked at her and nodded. "I hope to see you again soon."

They explored a little more, walking around the streets, but Rosalie couldn't help but wish she was still in that gallery.

That night, back in their room, she put on a little black lace nightie. The first gift Morgan had ever bought her.

She looked over at him lying on the bed, his boxers on his cock, tenting them in anticipation.

"Oh, no, really. You think that we are going to fuck now after you had to nap earlier," she said half teasing and half still pissed off. She briefly thought about denying him but she felt the heat radiating between her legs. She needed to be fucked before she started getting filled with sexual tension which always brought out the bitch in her.

"Come over here, baby," he said, his hand moving to stroke his cock through his boxers.

She gave him her best stern but pouty look. "Say please and I'll think about it." 

He rolled his eyes dramatically at her. "Really?" 

She glared. "Yes, really; If you don't say please to make up for earlier then I am just going to go to bed and you can stroke it!" her voice came out a bit more stern than she intended.

"Oh my god. Okay, please, Rosalie," he said pleadingly.

"Good," she said, her face lighting up, before climbing onto the bed and straddling his hard cock that had sprung out of his boxers. She let herself fall down onto it, feeling it sinking in an inch at a time. It filled her as she began to move her hips, thrusting her ass up and down, impaling herself on his cock. As she did visions of Natalia flooded into her mind with a surging force.

'Jesus,' she gasped out as her mind began to twist and turn with erotic images of Natalia under her, wearing a strap on, fucking in and out of her. Her pussy was a soaking mess now, flooding like crazy, as she rode Morgan's cock harder and faster, driving it feverishly into her with a need she had never experienced before.

Morgan was gasping under her and grunting as she rode him harder than she had ever done before. 

"Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. Oh, god..." she screamed at the top of her lungs, not caring how thick or thin the walls were. And then, another vision of Natalia fucking into her. Moaning, her eyes so blue... so deep... losing herself forever. Her cunt began to clench up, squeezing his cock uncontrollably before cumming hard. Her juices flooded out of her in a hot, wet torrent, running down his throbbing cock.

He let out one final grunt and flooded her insides full of his cum.

They lay together in a hot, wet, sticky mess, too tired to even shower. He whispered to her that she had never fucked him like that before.