I smile. Can't help it. "I'm glad I did it then."
She shifts slightly, starting to lift herself off me, and my cock slides out. Immediately, my cum starts dripping from her pussy, running down her inner thighs, and it's the most beautiful sight I've ever seen.
She rubs her thighs together, trying to contain it, and looks around. "Where's your bathroom?"
I point to the door in the corner. "Over there."
She stands on slightly shaky legs and walks toward it, and I watch every step, watch my cum continue to drip down her thighs, marking her.
Mine. She's mine now.
And I'm never letting her go.
She returns from the bathroom a few minutes later, water still dripping from her face where she must have splashed it to cool down. Her breasts bounce with each step, heavy and perfect, and I can't look away. Don't want to look away.
She lies down next to me on the couch, pressing her naked body against mine, her face nestled against my shoulder. The couch isn't really big enough for both of us like this, but neither of us seems to care. She fits against me perfectly, soft where I'm hard, warm and alive and here.
I pull the blanket from the back of the couch and drape it over us.
"You happy?" I ask.
She's quiet for a moment, and then she says, "I've never been this happy. Next to you," she continues, her voice soft, "I feel like I can just be naked without judgment. Without worrying about what you're thinking or if you're noticing all the things that are wrong with me."
"Nothing's wrong with you."
"My ex would disagree." She traces a pattern on my chest with her finger. "He used to comment on how my thighs rub together when I walk. How my breasts have stretch marks. How I should probably lose some weight if I wanted to look better in the things he bought me."
Rage floods through me so fast and so complete that I have to consciously stop myself from sitting up, from moving, from doing something violent with the energy suddenly coursing through my body.
I should have knocked him the fuck out.
I should have done more than just threaten him, should have made good on every promise I made against that wall. And I will. Eventually. I didn't forget about the tracker on her car, didn't forget that he's been stalking her for three months. He'll get what's coming to him.
But right now, I need to focus on Chloe. On the self-doubt her piece-of-shit ex planted in her head.
I kiss her forehead. Let my lips linger there.
"You're beautiful," I tell her. "Everything I see is exactly what I want. Your thighs, your breasts, your stomach, all of it. That will never be a problem. Ever."
She looks up at me, her brown eyes searching my face like she's trying to determine if I'm telling the truth.
"I mean it," I say. "He was a fucking idiot who didn't deserve you. And he definitely didn't deserve to touch you."
"You're really okay with… With all of this?" She gestures vaguely at her body.
"More than okay," I say. "I'm obsessed with it. With you."
She smiles then, small and genuine, and burrows closer against me.
We lie there in silence for a while. My hand traces lazy patterns on her back, following the curve of her spine, the dip of her waist. Her breathing gradually slows, deepens, and I realize she's falling asleep.
Good. She should sleep. She should feel safe enough here to let her guard down completely.
I close my eyes.
And despite every intention to stay awake, to keep watch, I fall asleep too.
Hours later…
