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She keeps giving more of herself, pulling me deeper and deeper into her, meshing us together until it feels like I’m about to snap.
Grinding my jaw, I tell her one last time, “Keep saying that and you’re going to regret it.”
“I love you!”
Her body grows glossy and she lets out abandoned, little sounds as I keep fucking her. I don’t stop not even when she starts sobbing and when she starts screaming, I put my hand over her mouth containing the screams that she makes just for me.
She screams harder, the beautifully helpless sound muffled by my hand.
“Do you regret it?” I rasp between pressed teeth, even if I couldn’t stop now even if I tried and she looks up at me with her trusting, big eyes. I look down at her, expecting her to protest.
But she just shakes her head and laughs.
Epilogue
Amber-Two years later
We live in one of the prettiest penthouses in town.Me and the man everyone warned me not to marry. They could all see that something was out of the ordinary with him. With us two when we’re together.
I ignored their warnings, marrying Stan in the middle of February when there was nothing but ice and snow outside. Everyone looked at us as if they disproved but it was the happiest day of my life. For our honeymoon we went to an exclusive resort in the Maldives.
A complete waste because Stan wouldn’t let me leave the hotel room. We have no inhibitions when we’re together and whenever the staff would come to clean our room they’d always gasp, then tidy up as quickly as possible and run out with flushing cheeks.
In response Stan just grinned, coaxing a smile out of me too because he’s a bad influence.
The worst.
An addictive influence too and even if he has me and has had me for two years, he still looks like he hungers for me. Like he’ll never be able to get enough of me. Sometimes I think I’m the most adored woman in the country. Maybe even in the world.
And I know I made the right choice. Choosing to stay instead of screaming and trying to run away. Had I done that it would have been such a...loss.
My whole body hurts just thinking about it and I rarely do. Usually because I’m too busy being too wrapped up in Stan. We only have eyes for each other and we’re probably the most annoying guests at parties and restaurants. At family dinners too.
My parents tolerate Stan and he tolerates them back. They’re polite to each other but a little stand offish. Gautier still doesn’t trust him but Stan respects that and easily brushes off any biting remark he might make.
But sometimes it’s hard.
Like that time during Christmas when Gautier and my sister Rischa suggested that we all go on a family vacation up in the mountains for New Year’s Eve.
“Just the family,” Rischa said, a little acidly. “Just the five of us.”
I knew what she was thinking. That Stan just doesn’t fit in with them. The way he’s refined and unrefined at the same time. The way he’s fully civilized one second and the next one he isn’t.
But he’s one more thing too. Real.
Under the table, Stan put his hand on my knee, sliding it upward, making me bite my lip and I glanced at him nervously. His whole body looked strained, his eyes staring straight ahead while his brows curved.
He didn’t like the sound of that all. Neither did I.
“You don’t mind do you, Stanmore?” Gautier said, pushing his glasses up his nose. “It’s the gentlemanly thing to do. Give my sister some breathing room.”
“She’s my wife,” Stan said, not blinking and showing he was serious. “And her husband is not a gentleman.”
“Clearly,” Rischa sniffed, slowly shaking her long, narrow face.
“I don’t need any breathing room,” I protested, bathing in the smile that Stan gave me when I said that. “And if Stan is not coming, I’m not going either.”
We can’t be apart from each other. We fall asleep breathing into each other’s mouths. Our bodies sometimes still joined. We’re not separate, we’re one.
