Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 156392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 782(@200wpm)___ 626(@250wpm)___ 521(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 156392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 782(@200wpm)___ 626(@250wpm)___ 521(@300wpm)
“God, you really feel so good, Eli,” she breathes out in a needy voice. “Fuck me. I love it when you fuck me.”
“Like this?” I thrust up when she falls down and she slumps forward.
“Yes, yes…more…”
“You look like a fucking goddess.”
“Oh God, yes!” She grinds her clit against my groin as I drive into her with deep stokes.
“I’m going to fill you up with cum so you know you’re only mine, wife.”
“Yes… Please…”
Her lips fall open and she tightens around me, so I sit up, sink my hand in her hair, and shove her down for a hungry, violent kiss as she shatters around my cock.
She rotates her hips and continues riding me, milking me, clenching around me.
The entire time she kisses me with frantic passion. My wife is as insatiable as I am and never gets enough.
“Come with me,” she whispers against my mouth as she clenches around my cock. “Please, please.”
I thrust deeper, wrapping a hand around her throat, and then I’m groaning as she moans.
The rush of the orgasm hits me with blinding strength. I come in her as I kiss her senseless.
She wraps her frail arms around me, and, for a moment, we’re one.
For a moment, as we kiss and she snuggles against me, I choose to think we’re normal.
Ordinary.
Simple.
For a moment, I choose to forget that I have two options for my wife.
Either watch her wither away or admit her to a mental institute and watch her fall apart on the road to no return.
She might look normal now or a few days from now. A few weeks if we’re lucky, but it’s an illusion.
A safety net with hidden holes.
An unsteady bridge that will crack under pressure.
Already, as I carry her to the bathroom, she looks lethargic, numb, and only half present.
Her pulse is slow, her eyes are unfocused, and her body is stiff.
After I run the tap and check the temperature, I place her in the tub, careful to balance her head so she doesn’t hit it against the edge in her daze.
I’ve started to move away to fetch the shower gel when a hand grabs onto my wrist.
“Hey, Eli?”
“Yes?” I face her, and for a moment, she looks so radiant, so fucking beautiful, pain explodes in the useless organ tucked behind my rib cage.
An organ she poked, provoked, and breathed life into, now it seems to only beat in her presence.
Her words fill the bathroom thicker than the steam. “Let’s have a baby.”
34
AVA
It’s irrational and completely asinine, but I don’t take back the words I said in the bathroom three days ago.
Eli simply ignored me, slapped me with a ‘we’ll talk about it later,’ then proceeded to sweep the entire topic under the rug.
We’ve been going to the beach, swimming, tanning, and having more sex than porn stars—mostly because I can’t get enough and I want to encourage him so I can get pregnant.
Am I being too reckless? Too unfair to the child who would live with an unstable mother?
Possibly. But I’m also desperate to engrave these moments with any method available.
I don’t care what anyone says. I know myself the best, and I can recognize that my time is limited. If I’m correct, the last time I woke up in the hospital and lost two years of my life happened after a breakdown, and judging by how drastically degenerative my state is, this time will be worse than mere amnesia.
This time, the tired branch might finally break under my weight.
So I spent the past few days savoring every moment I could get my hands on. Every view, every touch, and every activity.
We went hiking, we had picnics, and he ate my food without my having to use Sam as an excuse. So when I asked if he was okay with me cooking for him, he disclosed he knew all along it was me.
He was the one who ate a slice of my cake before I doomed it to the rubbish bin.
It’s strange to see him more relaxed and open about himself. Eli’s talked about his childhood here, his bond with his grandparents, and the pressure he put on himself early on to be the perfect heir for the King's name.
The admission that these past few days were the only occasion he’d ever taken time off for himself made me feel so bad for him.
I’ve been absorbing everything about him, imprinting every single detail to memory and hoping, praying that the stars collide and I never forget them this time.
Today, he took me to the highest tip of a mountain to witness the most stunning sunrise.
“Here you go.” He passes me a bottle of water as I collapse on a rock beneath a massive willow tree.
“I’ll be sore as hell tomorrow,” I grumble after I nearly empty the bottle. “But it’s worth it.”
My husband drops his backpack on the uneven surface as his lips pull in a wolfish smirk.