“I’m fine,” he says, breathing hard. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
He carefully gets up and comes back a moment later with a damp cloth. “As much as I like seeing you marked with my cum,” he says, gently tracing the cloth over my thighs and stomach, “I can’t leave you like this all night.”
A small part of me almost wishes he would, and the desire startles me. “I don’t want you to leave at all,” I say, startling myself again with the words, and Sean looks at me for a long moment before tossing the cloth in a hamper.
“Then I won’t,” he says simply, stretching out beside me on the bed again. “Not if you don’t want me to.”
It feels as if there might be some deeper meaning in the words, but I can’t find them right now. I’m too exhausted, my body wrecked in the wake of four orgasms and losing my virginity, and all I want to do is sleep.
I think Sean murmurs something else, but I don’t hear it. My eyes flutter closed, and I’m dead to the world in moments.
25
SEAN
Iwake to sunlight streaming through the bedroom window and Maeve's warm body pressed against mine. For a moment, I just lie there, listening to her breathe, feeling the steady rise and fall of her chest. She's still asleep, her ginger hair fanned across my chest, one hand brushing against my waist.
Something shifted last night. I've had sex before—plenty of it—but it's never felt like this. Like I've given away a part of myself I didn't know existed, and now I'm standing here, exposed and vulnerable, and it’s fucking terrifying.
I've never felt this way about anyone. Never wanted to protect someone so fiercely while simultaneously wanting to run as far away as possible. The intensity of what I feel for Maeve is overwhelming, suffocating, and I'm certain—absolutely certain—that I'm going to lose her.
I’m not the kind of man who gets a happy ending. I was built on blood and violence and loss, and all I can think as I lie here with her in my arms is that the sooner I accept that, the less it will hurt when the inevitable happens.
But looking at her now, peaceful and trusting after a night unlike anything I’ve felt before, I can't bring myself to let go.
I can’t imagine never being inside her again. Never again seeing her face the way it looked last night when she gasped and moaned for me, when she came on my cock, and I made her mine. The way her skin looked marked with my cum. The thought of never having her again makes me feel like my chest is hollowed out; the thought of anyone else taking her for their own makes me want to burn the whole world down just to make sure there’s no one left in it who can have her.
The warmth of her against my side is soothing, calming, like a balm. She’s the only woman I’ve ever fallen asleep with, the only one I’ve ever held in my arms like this. I can’t imagine it ever being anyone else.
Her eyes flutter open, and for a moment she looks disoriented. Then she sees me, and a slow smile spreads across her face.
"Morning," she murmurs, her voice rough with sleep.
"Morning." I brush a strand of hair away from her face. "How are you feeling?"
"Sore." She shifts slightly and winces. "But good sore. If that makes sense."
It does. I can see the evidence of last night written on her skin, the marks on her neck where my mouth was. There's something primitive about seeing my marks on her that satisfies a part of me I didn't know existed.
"We should get you in the bath," I tell her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "It'll help with the soreness."
"Only if you join me."
The invitation in her eyes is clear, and I feel myself hardening in response. But my ribs are screaming, the knife wound in my side is throbbing, and I'm pretty sure if I try to have sex again right now, I might just bleed out. Not to mention the fact that none of these wounds should be submerged in water.
Last night, I couldn’t let myself stop, regardless of the damage it might have done. My body is still a clamoring argument of knowing I need to give myself rest and wanting to bury myself in my wife at every opportunity, but I’m a little more clearheaded now, at least.
"Rain check," I say, pressing another kiss to her forehead. "I'm not sure my body can handle another round just yet."
She looks at me with concern, her hand gently touching the bandage on my ribs. "How bad is it really?"
"I've had worse." It's not a lie, but it's not the full truth either. The truth is that I probably should have gotten stitches for the knife wound, and I'm pretty sure at least two ribs are cracked. But I've learned to function through pain over the years. I can manage this, at least.
"Sean—" she starts to protest, and I shake my head.
"I'm fine, Maeve." I brush a finger along her jaw. "I promise. This is nothing new.”
She looks like she wants to argue, but instead she just nods and lets me help her out of bed. The sight of her still naked does nothing to help my erection, my entire body throbbing with the desire to take her back to bed. But I run a bath for her, adding some Epsom salts I find under the sink, and help her settle into the warm water. She sighs with relief as the heat soaks into her muscles.
