The climax hits me all at once, sudden and total and overwhelming, my back arching off the mattress, his name tearing out of my throat.
His hips drive forward hard. His forehead drops to mineand his eyes close and he groans. His body shudders and I feel his cum pulse inside me, hot and deep.
I hold him with my arms locked around his shoulders, his full weight pressing me into the bed. I take his face and angle it up so our open mouths meet and we breathe each other’s air. Even with him buried inside me, I can’t get enough of him.
Then he lifts himself up on his arms and kisses me. Deep and almost bruising, his hand cupping the back of my head, and when he pulls back his eyes are very dark. When I first met him I thought him unreadable but I can read him now, can read the affection and possessiveness and something that looks like wonder in his eyes.
“I can’t believe you’re my wife,” he whispers. “Can’t believe you’re mine.”
Mine.
I am his. Completely. His ring on my finger and his cock deep inside me and his name the only thing in my head. Claimed in every way two people can claim each other, joined as intimately and completely as it’s possible to be. Married, body and soul.
If only for this brief moment in time.
I swallow against the tightness that thought puts in my throat. Because this is real right now. Whatever comes after, right now, I am his and he is mine. This is the version of Slade no one else gets to see. My husband, fierce and passionate and tender all at once, just for me.
“Believe it,” I tell him softly.
I stroke my fingertips along his jaw. The stubble rasping under my fingers. His pulse thrumming at his throat.
His eyes close for just a second.
When they open they’re very green. Sharp, now, like the haze of lust has receded and the alert, ever watchful Slade is back. They move over my face with that assessing look, exceptthis time it’s not checking my ankle or my riding stance. His expression shifts from satisfaction to concern as he asks suddenly, “Did I hurt you?”
I blink at him in surprise. “Of course not.”
“I was…” There’s something uncertain moving across his face that I’ve never seen there before, almost nervous. He withdraws his softening cock and rolls off me, putting a forearm over his eyes.
I can still see his grimace beneath it.
“I don’t know what came over me,” he says, still not looking at me, but his arm extended, still touching me as though he can’t stop himself. “I just snapped. Couldn’t control it.” He swallows. “I didn’t mean to be so rough with you. You’re so much smaller than me, and soft everywhere, and I’m…”
“Slade.” I catch his hand where it’s moving up my arm and hold it still. “Look at me.”
Taking his arm off his eyes, he looks at me.
“I feel amazing,” I say. “You’re amazing. That was…” I exhale. “That was a lot. In a good way. Intense.”
“Too much?”
“No such thing.” I shift closer to him, closing the distance between us until we’re chest to chest, his heartbeat under my palm. I tease, “I’m a maximalist, remember?”
He doesn’t smile yet. Still watching me with that careful attention, still checking.
“There is nothing you could do that’s too much for me,” I assure him, stroking his chest. “I love the way you hold me. The way you kiss me.” I slide my fingers into his damp hair and push the strands off his forehead. “I love the way you fuck me.” My hand cups his jaw, as gentle and comforting a touch as I can give him. “I can’t get enough of you.”
I never will.
He lets out a breath. “Okay,” he says. “Good.”
He reaches for me, pulling me against his side. His hand finds my hair, smoothing it back from my face, slow and gentle.
His lips press to my forehead. My temple. The corner of my eye. Featherlight kisses of pure affection.
This is what I wanted that first night. What I stood in the hallway and ached for through a closed door on our wedding night.
The sex, yes, but this too. Being held like I’m loved. Like I’m something precious to him.
