Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 88807 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88807 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
“What do you want me to do?” His lips are so close to mine, almost brushing against them. Anticipation is enough to make my fists tighten, and my toes curl.
“Make me come, please. I need it.”
He responds by closing his arm around my back, then leaning me against the wall before running his other hand from my throat to my stomach. When he probes my lips, I part my thighs, gasping at the touch of his fingers against my sensitive folds. It's a relief to connect this way. Getting back to the basics, where nothing matters but the two of us at this moment. It's enough to bring tears to my eyes, and they mix with the water still raining down on us.
“My beautiful Siân.” His lips land on my throat, placing warm, wet kisses. “My beautiful wife. My everything, my all.”
I close my eyes and melt against him, desire taking over everything else. There is no pain, no confusion, no questions.
“I love the way you respond to my touch,” he whispers against my throat, breathing hard. “How wet you get without me having to try. You were made for me.” He lifts his head. “Tell me. Tell me you were made for me.”
“I was made for you.”
And I was. How else can I explain what he does to me? Even when I hated him, when he made me feel dirty and used and scared as hell, I couldn’t help the way he lit me up.
I wrap a leg around him, spreading wider, giving him encouragement to slide a finger inside me while his thumb works my clit. He rubs my G-spot in time with his external strokes, and I have to press my face to his shoulder to keep from deafening us. It’s never been this intense, the shocks radiating from where he’s touching me.
I’m hanging on for dear life, riding out the full-body shocks rocking me. “That’s right. Let yourself go. Let it all out.”
His teeth sink into my neck just hard enough to hurt, and for some reason, that’s enough to take me just a little higher. High enough for it to feel like my head’s going to explode and like fireworks are exploding behind my eyelids. I shudder again and again from the force, sobbing out my release. It’s almost scary how strong I’m coming. Stronger than ever before.
Even Christian notices. “Remind me to do it that way more often. There’s nothing like hearing you come that way.”
I can only nod. That’s all I can manage. But if I could, I’d tell him I think it had to do with almost losing him tonight. Losing us.
28
CHRISTIAN
The sun is out, sitting high in the sky, its rays shining in through the window. We’re in bed, and Siân is sleeping peacefully. I stayed with her last night, catering to her in every way possible and monitoring her for any signs of discomfort. For a good chunk of the night, she was in and out of the bathroom. It wasn’t until about four hours ago when she finally stayed asleep.
As I watch her, the clearer things become for me. She’s worth it. Everything I’ve done has been to get us to this moment. Gentleness isn’t something I do very well, but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a nice change of pace. It’s almost as if the moment Samuele’s judging eye was no longer a factor in my life, the pressure shifted. The pressure I didn’t really notice at first. This is my life—darkness and chaos—disappointment, betrayal. It was all something I’ve seen again and again.
But now that he is gone, I can see things for what they were. Not that I think I would be a different person if he was indeed a different father. But the question does linger in my mind. If my upbringing was different, maybe I wouldn’t be as disassociated as Siân pointed out. The thought sounds good, but the truth is, I am who I am.
I continue to watch her sleep. She tosses a bit, settling her face close to mine. Her mouth is wide open, and the puffiness that plagued her features yesterday has faded. She’s perfect. So precious—so innocent—so mine.
I lean down, planting a kiss on her forehead while letting my hand rest against her stomach. “I love you,” I whisper.
For the first time in my entire life, I utter those words, and something builds in my chest. Heat creeps up my cheek, a tingling sensation spreading through me like wildflowers. It’s her. It’s always been her. I asked myself once if she could change me, help me feel something other than the world around me, and now I have my answer. We can make each other stronger. I can teach her to be bold, proud—a leader. And she can teach me what it means to be human—as she’s so often put it.