Page 66 of Storm

“Need I remind you that only yesterday you lost enough solence to be on the precipice of death. The only thing that saved your life was me.”

I knew it was bad. He was too calm yesterday, and it was because it was a literal repeat of what happened before. But this time, he got to me sooner, and the stubborn girl inside me hung on.

I want to give him a scathing reply. I can’t. Nothing except a brush of air escapes my lips.

“Is Sunny okay, at least?”

Melek grunts, bringing his head to mine, forehead to forehead, nose to nose. “It was just a bruise. He is fine. You shouldn’t have carried him.”

“He fell from the top of the treehouse. He wasn’t moving. You would’ve done the same thing,” I fling back. I could’ve sworn it was broken with the way he was acting.

“Yes, but I’m not the one with a high-risk pregnancy.” His voice says I’m angry at you. His hands tell a different story, digging into my skin, his cock hardening, which I have been ignoring until this point, is begging for attention. Grinding himself upwards, I twist my leg around his, moaning softly. “I’ve got some more news.”

“What?”

“No more penetrative intercourse. Doctor’s orders.” What? Did he say penetrative intercourse?

“The doctor said those exact words?”

Groaning dispassionately, he answers, “Yes.”

A bubble of laughter erupts out of me. I imagine the doctor telling the commander of Halo that he can no longer fuck his wife—his favourite hobby.

When Sunny was born, Melek kept his hands to himself for four whole weeks. After a while, I stopped being impressed by his resolve. More like despised it. I never told him he had to stay away. He would help me with Sunny and anything else I needed, but he never crossed the line. Eventually, I had to coerce him into touching me. Breakable, I was not. After the first few weeks of birth with extra Melek solence in me, I felt good as new. Better than new.

Ravenous.

There were times I feigned help with my clothes or complained about my back being sore just so I could feel the brush of his skin against mine. His fingers never lingered beyond a basic propriety touch.

It grew infuriating.

I don’t remember the exact moment in time I realised I was addicted to his touch. It was around the period when I was pursuing him that I saw he was under my skin, and I had no hope of shaking him loose. He’d ensnared me. Which is crazy considering I spent the first half of our marriage wishing to slit his throat and telling him off every chance I got.

On the thirty-first night, after I put Sunny in his bassinet, I found him sipping whisky by the fire in the main living room, replying to messages on his phone. I straddled the motherfucker, pulled out his cock, and rubbed up against him like a crazed animal in heat. After that silent permission, he was back on me every night like nothing had changed, and I secretly relished it.

The girl taking up residence in my body isn’t due for another month, and that original pregnancy’s four weeks without him screwing me into a coma were brutal. This time, I have to last.

Abstinence could be rewarding—no, it will be rewarding.

That first time, I think Melek was also barely lasting, too, if his foul mood towards everyone was any indication. So, technically, I did everyone a service by jumping on his cock. He was much more amenable after that.

I lick his lip. “I hope that’s all he said, because if you can’t suck on my clit, I might spontaneously combust.”

That garners a pussy-clenching growl from him. “He only said intercourse was off the table.”

“Good, because I can’t have you stomping around the house like last time.”

He comes impossibly close, wedging his torso into mine, legs tangled, as he gruffly asks, “You notice my moods?” The implication being he doesn’t have moods, and also that I pay attention to him, which he knows I do. How else can I annoy him if I don’t know what pushes his buttons?

“The sun rises and sets on your moods.” Wrong thing to say. He goes for my sides, tickling me.

I try to hold it in, but I can’t. “Stop. Melek, stop,” getting out through short cackles.

“You know my mood only changes because of you, so I’d say the sun rises and sets with you, wife.”

Bastard. Absolute asshole. My heart dissolves, and if I weren’t already lying down, I’d be on the floor.

“You can’t say stuff like that.” I push at his chest with vigour. He puts his mouth on mine, his expert tongue finding the seam of my lips, teasing before releasing me. My chest gallops.