Page 36 of Love on the Run

“Hai,” She whimpers, taking my dick so well because she is made for it —made for me.

“It’s s-so good,” she moans against my lips. I take them, ravishing her. I cover her mouth with mine, making her take my tongue, sucking it deep just as her little pussy takes my dick.

“A-Akchiro—” she cries out, ripping her mouth free on a gasp as I bottom out, stretching her. Her body arches as she tries to accommodate me.

I barely give her time to catch her breath before I’m withdrawing and slamming home again. I set a punishing pace. Not to hurt her, but to give her what she craves, what she needs. Her muscles clench, her nails dig into my back as she meets me, fucking me back as my hips snap into hers. Our bodies are a cacophony of slick, filthy sounds as we fuck. We fuck out pain, we fuck out our anger and the shame.

I reach between us swirling my thumb on her clit in fast rushed movements, knowing we are both close but wanting so bad for us to come together. I feel her pussy tightening so hard as bliss takes her. It’s like she’s strangling my dick, but I keep fucking, squeezing her neck, driving deep, as she barely whimpers my name, the tears I long for slipping free. I lick them as my come pours from me in hot streams coating her welcoming hot flesh.

I gather her into my arms as gently as I can knowing she’s entered subspace. “You were so good, Hana,” I whisper against her damp curls. “So brave, strong.” I press a kiss on her temple.

“You are beautiful.” Whispering a kiss on her lips, I let her rest in the crook of my arm as I sit back against the sofa.

Long moments pass as I continue to hold her, whispering soft words of praise. Once she starts to shift, I get up pulling her with me.

We shower in silence. I know well the sense of vulnerability she feels and I’m careful not to shatter that fragile state. I notice a bruise on her inner thigh not sure how it happened thinking this is why she winced earlier. I make a note to be more careful with her.

“Will you stay?” Her question soft and full of vulernability as she slides over to make room for me in bed guts me when I know it shouldn’t. Instinctively I feel like it’s a manipulation.

“No.” My voice is hard as I watch her face fall. Then that fucking swallow again but this time as she struggles against the disappointment.

Despite my words I get in beside her knowing I should leave. Knowing she’s safely out of subspace. Still. The weakness I tried to root out seems to be trying to claw back into my heart.

She doesn’t say anything, my clever little sub. She just curls those luscious curves into my taunt frame and rests her newly braided head on my shoulder like she’s done for the last few years we’ve been together. My heart pounds but my soul is soothed. I may have won the battle but why does it feel like this little cute ass motherfucker is winning the war and my heart too?

SEVENTEEN

Flower

The thump and whoosh of his heartbeat is the first thing I am aware of—steady, strong, him. I don’t do anything. I’m scared to breathe — to move. What if he’s awake and just holding me? What if he’s asleep and gets angry like the last time when he fell asleep with me?

I slit my eyes open peeking enough to see the bright rays of sun spilling in from the windows.

The tint is timed so the full force of the sun doesn’t greet me in the morning since I’m prone to migraines triggered by my astigmatism. I can tell it way past dawn, the time he normally rises. His breathing is steady. He holds me no different than he did when he finally gave in last night wrapping his arms around me.

It feels like heaven to me. I will myself not to cry from happiness.

It won’t last. He didn’t want to stay.The pragmatist tells me.But he did! He stayed, held you all night. Held you close to his heart.The romantic says.

I know they will never agree. Both things can be true just based on my husband’s mercurial nature. Just as he held me, let me apologize allowing me to make love to him can switch in seconds allowing the sadist in him to take over and make me crawl. He can lock me away on this ship, only allowing me to see our son when he deems I’ve been a docile enough pet.

All of those things have been and are still true. I just take my wins when I get them. Like now, basking in the warmth of his arms. Reveling in the strength of him.

I start to drift off when I feel him shift. Not thinking maybe even out of reflex and recent trauma my hold tightens a fraction of a second. He stills. Immediately, my hold relaxes, I start to draw away before he shoves himself free.

My heart stops when his hold tightens instead. “I wasn’t leaving.” He lets that fall between us. “I only wanted to make sure you were comfortable when you started drifting off and I heard you snore.”

“I don’t snore,” I murmur snuggling against his chest.

“You’ll have to speak louder. Your snoring still has my ears ringing.” His dry humor, something so rare even in our best days has me giggling.

I swat his chest. He’s quick to grab it and kiss my knuckles.

“Let’s get up, I’m hungry.”

We shower again just out of habit. It’s not as silent as last night as he whispers sweet things like calling me beautiful, and I tell him the same. It’s true. I whisper in hushed tones not wanting to do anything that would make him want to leave. I’m careful not to push. “You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”

Standing on my tiptoes, I sweep his hair away from his right shoulder pressing a kiss as close to his nape as I can. I wash and condition his hair.

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