“Are you on birth control?”
I let out a breathless laugh. “Austin,” I panted, “don’t you think it’s a little late to be asking that?”
He groaned, sliding his hands up my back, pulling me closer until my chest pressed against his. “I want to finish inside you,” he growled. “Tell me I can. Tell me you want it.”
The raw need in his words sent a fresh surge of heat straight to my core. This was my husband, the man I trusted completely.
I leaned in, my lips brushing against his ear as I whispered, “I want it.”
His response was immediate, a deep, guttural growl vibrating through his chest. His hips snapped up harder, driving his cock into me with a precision that sent me spiraling.
“Austin,” I cried.
“Say it again, Char.”
“Austin,” I moaned repeatedly. “Please. Austin. Austin.Austin.”
The coil in my belly tightened unbearably, the pressure building with every stroke until it broke. My body clenched around him as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over me.
“Fuck, Char,” Austin groaned.
His pace faltered, his grip on my hips almost bruising as he thrust deep one final time. He stilled, his head falling back, and a guttural moan tore from his throat as he spilled inside me, his warmth flooding every inch.
The sensation pushed me further, my body shuddering as aftershocks rippled through me. His hands roamed my back, his lips finding mine in a desperate, claiming kiss. We stayed tangled together, breathing hard, the mirror reflecting the raw, unrestrained connection we’d just shared.
What felt like hours later, we lay in my bed, wrapped in the warmth of each other and the soft covers. Naked, facing each other, the world outside faded away. Austin slowly traced his fingers over my face, skimming the curve of my jaw, the line of my nose, the shape of my lips, as though he was memorizing every detail.
“Are you okay?”
He shifted closer, and as our skin touched, I felt him, already hard and pressing against me.
“More than okay,” I whispered, my lips curving into a small, content smile.
Silence descended between us as Austin continued his slow path with his fingers, tracing down my shoulders and along my collarbone. My breasts pressed firmly against his chest, and my hair spilled across the pillow in wild, messy waves. I’d never felt more vulnerable, lying there completely bare, exposed in every way.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
Tears welled in my eyes, spilling over before I could stop them. His brows pulled together, and he gently wiped a tear from my cheek.
“Don’t cry,” he murmured.
I couldn’t hold them back. The tears came anyway, slow and steady, carrying with them years of buried pain.
“I’ve never felt like this before.” My voice cracked. “Never felt so comfortable in my own skin. So... beautiful.” I swallowed hard, the truth of my confession making my chest tight. “I’ve spent my whole life under my mother’s thumb, tearing myself apart because of her. Even when I left, even when I was strongenough to start over, I couldn’t stop. Every morning, I’d pick my outfits carefully, make sure nothing was out of place, nothing wrinkled, nothing that could be criticized. She always said it was for my future husband—that I had to be perfect to be loved.”
I paused, drawing in a shaky breath, my tears falling faster now. “But tonight... tonight I felt free. Watching myself in that mirror, seeing myself through your eyes, I saw someone beautiful. For the first time, this body I’ve hated felt like it was mine. Like it was meant for me.”
Austin cupped my cheek, his thumb stroking my skin as he looked at me with a tenderness that made my heart ache. “It is,” he said softly.
And for the first time, I believed it.
“Thank you for giving that to me,” he said softly.
“What do you mean?” I half laughed. “You gave me everything.”
He smiled slowly and shook his head. “The last time I was intimate with someone for the first time, it ended up plastered everywhere on social media.”
I remembered what happened, and I slowly started to put the pieces together as he continued.
