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“Fuck… you feel so good,” he groans against my neck, voice rough with restraint. “So wet. So tight around me.”
I cling to his shoulders as he starts to move, slow and deep, filling me completely with every stroke. “Your cock feels so good,” I whisper, the words coming easier than they ever have before.
“I love the way you stretch me… the way my pussy takes you.”
He makes a low, approving sound and thrusts deeper. “Say that again.”
“My pussy loves your cock,” I breathe, rocking against him. “You make me feel so full… so good.”
Something has shifted. He told me the truth. He’d carried the memory of me all this time. For two years. Knowing that opens something inside me I don’t have a name for yet.
I tip my head back and look up. The moon hangs above us, silver light spilling across the water. For a moment it feels like the whole world has gone quiet except for the waves and the sound of our bodies. Something vast and gentle seems to settle over me, as if the night itself is watching and approving.
The pleasure builds slow and deep until it finally breaks. I come with his name on my lips, clutching him tightly as the waves of it roll through me. He follows right after, burying himself to the hilt and spilling inside me with a long, guttural groan.
When I lower my head again, our eyes meet. He kisses me, slow, deep, and unhurried. Something has changed between us tonight.
I can feel it in the way he holds me, in the way I don’t want to let go, and in the quiet certainty settling under my ribs. I'm falling for my husband.
Chapter 23
Aurora
“Oh… Roman… yes!”
I thought making love under the moon was ethereal. Magical, even. But nothing compares to this, being taken slowly on the deck of a yacht while the sun rises over the water.
The cool sea air brushing over my bare skin as Roman moves inside me, deep and unhurried. He’s buried to the hilt, every slow thrust filling me completely.
I tip my head back and watch the sky change, soft pinks and golds bleeding across the horizon as the sun begins to climb. The light touches my face while his body anchors me to the earth.
Goosebumps rise along my arms and down my legs, but they have nothing to do with the breeze. It’s the feeling itself. A slow, tingling current that starts at the crown of my head and travels all the way to my toes and the tips of my fingers.
“Ro… Roman…” I breathe his name.
He takes my lips in a deep, languid kiss, never breaking the steady rhythm of his hips. These past few days our relationship has blossomed. Ever since he told me the truth, the distance that used to live in his eyes has softened. We’re closer now. More open. More us.
The pleasure builds low and deep inside me. “I’m close,” I whisper against his mouth.
His hand slides up and closes lightly around my throat, and applies just enough pressure, exactly the way I like it. A breathless sound escapes me. I keep my eyes locked on his as the orgasm rolls through me in a quiet, powerful wave. A silent, full-body release that seems to pull me out of myself for a moment.
For a few suspended seconds it feels like my spirit lifts free, merging with the rising sun, the endless water, the wind moving over the sea, before it slowly settles back into my body again.
Roman follows with a deep groan as he spills inside me. He pulls me down into another slow, languid kiss, his hands roaming over my sides while mine move across the hard planes of his chest and shoulders. We stay like that for a while, breathing each other in as the last waves of pleasure fade.
These past few days have been the most magical of our marriage so far. The trip is shorter than either of us wanted. Roman has to return to Chicago for something important, so we’re cutting our trip short.
Still, we’ve spent more real time together here than we ever did back home. Even though he has been very busy with business since we arrived, he always makes time for me. He takes me shopping and waits patiently while I decide between dresses or shoes.
We eat breakfast together before he heads out. We have lunch and dinner side by side. In the evenings we walk along the beach, sometimes ending up tangled in the sand the way we did the night he told me the truth about the painting.
Last night he brought me onto this yacht, and we’ve stayed out on the water until morning. Now the sun is fully up, and our flight back to Chicago leaves in just a few hours.
A quiet sadness settles in my chest. I don’t know what waits for us when we return. Whether this closeness will survive the weight of Chicago and his responsibilities, or whether the old distance will try to creep back in.
I hope it doesn’t. And even if it starts to, I’ve already decided I won’t let us slip all the way back to how things were before. The gap between us has narrowed. I intend to keep it that way, whatever it takes.
Being married to Roman continues to surprise me. Every day seems to exceed what I once expected. Growing up, I watched the way my father treated my mother. Roman is different. He’s territorial, yes, and fiercely protective, but he doesn’t lock me away just for the sake of control. He doesn’t treat me like a prisoner. He gives me space, freedom, and a kind of quiet care I never thought I’d receive from a man like him.
