I let my hand rest there for a moment, splayed low against her back, holding her in place, letting the night air kiss the newly exposed skin while my gaze drags slowly, possessively, over what I’ve revealed. Not taking.
Not yet.
Just reminding her—exactly who stands behind her. Who will always stand behind her. Because no matter what choices my wife makes in this life, I will be there—behind her, beside her, surrounding her completely. Until death do us part.
Fucking hell, even past then.
I came back for her. Her mind. Her heart. Her soul. Her body.
Some people say like calls to like. But with us, it’s something more. Introvert and batshit extrovert. Calm and chaos.
We are the fucking waves in the ocean.
The only difference between us is that she still believes she’s too weak to fight. But I see the depth in her—the call of the abyss she’s refused, no matter how shit the situation she’s been in.
Maybe right now she thinks she has no fight.
But I’ll be there when she realizes she’s stronger than me.
Until then…
I’ll fight for both of us.
I will fight until my knuckles split and bleed, until my body gives out beneath me, until there is nothing left to take—until my last breath leaves my lungs and my heart finally stops beating.
Because this… this right here…
She is my peace. My heart. My future. I feel every shift in her breathing, every subtle tremor beneath my hands as the dress slips over her curves, skimming her hips before falling in a dark pool at her feet.
For a moment, neither of us moves.
Then she steps out of it.
She nudges the discarded lace aside with a careless motion of her foot, and something about that—about the quiet confidence in it, the absence of hesitation—lands deep in my chest.
My hands settle more firmly at her hips from behind, my grip tightening just enough to make my presence undeniable as I guide her forward those final inches.
“Hands on the railing,” I murmur against her ear, my voice low, my own heartbeat racing in my chest.
I take her wrists and lift them, placing her hands against the cool metal in front of her, my fingers lingering just long enough to feel the contrast between the chill of the railing and the heat of her skin. “I’m going to eat your pussy here, baby. Then I’m going to fuck you. Hard.” I lick a path from her shoulder up her neck, taking the lobe of her ear between my teeth. “And then, maybe I’ll take this hole as well.” I take her ass cheeks in my hands, sinking my fingers into the soft flesh. “Do you want me to fuck you here, baby?” Her pale skin reddens under my touch. “Yes. God, Trey, yes.” Sera groans. A zap of pleasure shoots down my spine and my abs tighten at her words. My restraint snaps and I tear the thin lace panties from her, the rip echoing around us as I let the ruined lace flutter to the ground, nudging her legs further apart with my foot.Fuck, I liked those… If this was one of thosewire game things, where you touch the wire and it buzzes, I would have to go back to the start...
“I want you to make me feel alive,” she whispers, voice trembling with need.
I lean in close, sinking my teeth into her throat—light nips, a slow suck.
She wants to feel alive?
Call me a neck-romancer.
Get it? Like a necromancer who raises the dead?
Fuck.
Sex really should be an Olympic sport with an audience, because I’d absolutely take gold for this.
Shut up, you moron, and fuck her.
Ignoring my inner whatever-the-fuck-it-is, I whisper…
