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She smiles at me, a silent challenge. “You didn’t put the money there,” she says, her voice betraying her doubt. “Just like how you didn’t have anything to do with Ivanov’s death, right?”
Her hand finds mine, our fingers intertwining in a gesture that speaks volumes. “I don’t know how to thank you,” she says, her voice steady but filled with emotion.
“For everything you’ve done, for the lengths you’ve gone to protect me.”
“You don’t need to thank me,” I reply, squeezing her hand gently. “Seeing you safe, knowing that you and your family don’t have to worry about what tomorrow might bring—that’s all the thanks I need.”
14
AMELIA
Rafael stands by the bedroom window, his silhouette etched against the early morning light, a figure of strength and contemplation. I watch him for a moment, my heart filled with love.
He turns to face me, and in his eyes, I see a mix of emotions—a tumultuous sea contained within his gaze.
“Amelia,” he begins, his voice carrying the weight of unspoken truths, “I married you to protect you from your father. The threats, the dangers that forced us into this arrangement, they’re gone. You’re safe now. “
“Which means,” he continues, his eyes searching mine for understanding, “our marriage...it doesn’t have to be a prison. You have the freedom to choose now, Amelia. If you want to leave, to start anew, you can.”
The silence that follows his declaration is heavy, filled with the echoes of our past battles, shared laughter, and whispered confidences in the dark. I realize, in this moment of truth, that the choice he’s offering isn’t a release—it’s a crossroads.
I step closer, closing the distance between us, driven by a force more compelling than any threat we’ve faced. “Rafael,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel, “I don’t want to leave. Not now, not ever.”
He watches me, a flicker of surprise and something deeper, more profound, lighting up his face. “Amelia?”
“I chose this life with you, not because I had no other option, but because...because I love you.”
The words, so long held back, now spill forth with an ease that surprises me. “Our marriage might have started out of necessity, but it’s grown into so much more.
“I want to stay, Rafael, to build a life together, not out of fear or obligation but out of love and the desire to see where this journey takes us. It was an obsession, but it’s become something much more. I love you.”
“I love you too.” He steps forward, enveloping me in his arms, a gesture of acceptance and mutual recognition of the path we’ve chosen. “I never dared to hope,” he whispers, his voice rough with emotion. “You’ve given me a gift, Amelia, a chance at a happiness I thought was beyond me.”
He steps closer, his hands gentle yet deliberate as they find the hem of my shirt, lifting it over my head with a care that sends shivers down my spine.
I reach for him, my fingers tracing the lines of his shoulders and moving down his chest, marveling at the strength I find there. Strength that’s not just physical but emotional, the resilience that’s carried us through storms and into this haven of calm.
His fingers move to the clasp of my bra, releasing it with a soft click, and I feel the warmth of his hands as they cup my breasts, his thumbs brushing against my nipples, eliciting a gasp from me. I lean into him, my body molding to his as he deepens our connection.
He guides me backward towards the bed, his lips finding mine in a passionate kiss that leaves me breathless. With a gentle push, I’m lying down, and he towers over me, his eyes dark with desire. I feel a thrill run through me as I see the want in his gaze.
His hand moves down my body, tracing the curve of my waist before settling on the button of my jeans. He undoes it with a flick of his fingers, and then he’s pulling them down, along with my underwear, leaving me exposed to him.
I look up at him, meeting his gaze unflinchingly as he takes in the sight of me.
“Do it,” I challenge him, my voice husky with desire. “Spank me.” I roll onto my front, pushing my hips up toward him.
He raises an eyebrow at me but doesn’t hesitate. His hand comes down on my buttock with a sharp slap that sends a jolt of pleasure-pain through my body.
I bite my lip to keep from yelping, wanting to prolong the sensation. He spanks me again, a little harder this time, and I arch my back into it, wanting more.
He continues spanking me, each smack leaving an imprint on my flesh. I moan softly with each strike, matching his rhythm and urgency.
He’s not just spanking me for my pleasure but for his own as well, wanting to leave his mark on me, a reminder of the moment we’re sharing.
As he continues his assault on my ass, I reach down and touch myself, exploring the dampness between my legs, feeling the growing wetness that betrays my arousal. My fingers slide against my clit, teasing me, building the anticipation of what’s to come.
He stops spanking me, and I can feel the heat of his body as he moves closer. I know what he wants, what we both want.
