He reaches around, fingers finding my clit again, rubbing fast and firm. “Come again. Come for me, wife. Let me feel you fall apart while I’m still buried so deep.”
The second orgasm crashes over me even harder. I scream into the mattress, walls clamping down around his cock as I shake and squirt, hot wetness soaking his thighs and the sheets. He fucks me through it, hips never faltering, growling like a man possessed until the last tremor leaves me limp and sobbing.
Then he flips me onto my back.
He spreads my thighs wide, hooks my legs over his shoulders, and slides back in slow and deep, intimate now, eyes locked on mine. The pace shifts. Still hard, still claiming, but deeper, more deliberate, like he’s pouring every ounce of love and fear and reverence into every thrust. His forehead presses to mine, breath mingling, one hand sliding down to rest protectively over the small swell of my belly.
“I love you,” he whispers, voice cracking. “My angel. My everything. I almost lost you and I’m never letting go.”
The intimacy breaks something open in both of us. I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer, meeting every deep stroke with my own hips. The pleasure builds slow and devastating this time, coiling tighter until we’re both trembling.
“Come with me,” he rasps against my lips. “Come with me, wife.”
We shatter together.
I cry out his name as my walls clamp down around him again, pulsing and milking every thick spurt of his release. He groanslong and broken, burying himself to the hilt as he floods me, hot, thick pulses filling me completely, claiming me from the inside out. His body shakes with the force of it, hips grinding deep like he’s trying to fuse us together.
We stay locked like that for long moments, panting, trembling, sweat-slick and breathing the same air.
Then the brutality bleeds away into something softer.
Elijah collapses over me, careful even now not to crush my healing side or my belly. He rolls us so I’m tucked against his chest, his arms wrapping around me like iron bands. His hand slides down, palm spreading wide and protective over the small swell of my stomach, thumb stroking slow circles there.
“My angel,” he whispers, voice hoarse and cracking with everything he’s finally letting go of. “My beautiful, perfect angel. I love you. God, I love you so much.”
He presses soft, reverent kisses to my forehead, my cheeks, my lips, gentle now, almost worshipful, like he’s afraid I might disappear if he’s not careful. I feel the last of his tension finally bleed out of him, his body going heavy and lax in my arms.
I stroke his hair, his back, letting my fingers trace slow, soothing patterns over his skin. “I’ve got you,” I murmur against his temple. “You’re home. You’re safe. Rest now.”
He nuzzles into my neck, breath warm against my skin, and for the first time in what feels like forever, he lets himself truly relax. His hand stays protectively over my belly, thumb still stroking that gentle curve as his breathing evens out into deep, steady sleep.
I hold him close, feeling the weight of this powerful, terrifying man completely surrendered in my arms. This is the part no one else sees, the fragility he only ever shows me. The vulnerability he trusts me with. It’s sacred. It’s everything.
Tears slip silently down my cheeks as I press a kiss to the top of his head.
“I love you,” I whisper into his hair. “So much.”
His breathing deepens, slow and steady, and I follow him down into sleep, wrapped around the man who holds the world together for everyone else… and lets himself fall apart only for me.
sixty-three
Liana
Morning comes slowly with a soft, golden light slipping through the curtains, warming the room inch by inch until it settles across us.
I wake first.
Elijah is still wrapped around me, his body heavy and relaxed in a way I’ve never felt from him before. One arm is still curved around my waist, his hand resting protectively over my stomach, his breathing deep and steady against my neck.
For a moment, I don’t move, I just lie there, feeling him. Feeling the absence of tension. Feeling the quiet.
It’s different. He’s different and something in my chest loosens at that realization.
Carefully, I shift, easing myself out from under him. His arm tightens instinctively for a second before falling back against the bed, his body still caught in sleep.
I pull on one of his shirts from the floor, the fabric soft and warm as I move into the hallway and freeze.
The marks from last night are still there.
