28. Gwen
Ithought my heart would be racing, but it’s not. It’s just loud. So loud. He has to hear it from across the room, leaning against the door, staring at the box in his hands. Or maybe his heart’s beating just as hard, and he can’t hear mine over his own.
I’m sitting cross-legged on our bed in an oversized shirt and bike shorts. I thought about dressing up for this, about digging through the drawer of lingerie, half of which still has the tags, and finding something that screamed control and dominance. But it didn’t feel right. As much as we’ve talked and planned, laying in bed tucked against each other, this moment seems too vulnerable to be fully orchestrated.
I think there’s a lot of things people get wrong about control, and about giving it up. Based on the things I’ve seen and read, I should take control of this moment. Tell Charlie to come to me, direct him to take off his clothes, or take mine off. Dictate his choices to relieve him of the burden of them. And fuck if that hasn’t worked for us before.
But for us, domination is about compassion. It’s a walk on a tightrope, balancing desire and comfort, vulnerability and abandon.
And right now, that balance requires patience. Every moment between us feels big and momentous, like we’re excavating our true selves from underneath layers of pain and expectation. There’s no one else I could do this with.
“I didn’t know I could trust someone this much.” He’s still looking at the box when he says it, and his voice is tight with emotion.
Ever since the courthouse, he doesn’t hide anything from me. Not when we’re alone, or with our friends and family, not when he’s teaching me to kill, not ever. It means more than the thread I can’t remove from my hand, even though we had to separate the sides.
“I think you didn’t know you could trust yourself this much,” I reply, trying to ease the tension coiling in his muscles. And it works, because he looks up at me, and his smile is so soft and genuine I could cry.
He walks toward me slowly and sinks to his knees at the edge of the bed, placing the box next to me and crossing his arms to lean his head against them. I shift forward and run my fingers through his hair at the crown, watching his eyes drift shut and his shoulders relax. This feeling, like I’ve brought him even one moment of calm and reassurance, will never get old. I’ll never get tired of feeling like this with him.
“Open your present, mia filettatura,” he says, keeping his eyes closed.
I know what’s in the box—we’ve sent links back and forth for days—but I humor him.
I slide my finger under the hinge and lift the lid, revealing an assortment of toys laying on top of a bed of silk. A midnight-black dildo, smooth and soft under my fingertips. Next to it, a small black bumper with a round, open base. Folded neatly underneath is a black harness made of vegan leather, the straps connected with a shiny silver ring. A small bottle of lube is tucked in the corner.
When I look back at him, his eyes are open, his stare imploring.
“Thank you for my gift,” I whisper, leaning over and kissing his forehead.
“Anything for my wife,” he says, reaching toward me.
I raise my hands as he pulls my shirt over my head by its hem. He tosses it to the ground, and I’m naked from the waist up, heat spreading over my skin with the way he looks at me. He practically crawls onto the bed to kiss my stomach, my ribs, my collarbones, the valley between my breasts.
The sound of his breath against my skin, the gentle way he traces the lines of my body with his hands, the murmured words spoken so softly, I know this is worship. This is being worshiped. Being touched by him like this is a religious experience. There’s nothing I want more than to free fall into this reckless, overzealous love.
He makes me want to believe in soulmates.
He finally crawls fully onto the bed until he’s pressing me backwards, and he only takes his mouth off my body to help me pull his shirt off. The feeling of his chest against mine, warm and drumming with the beat of his heart, is both comforting and carnal, and I arch my back to press as much of my body against his as possible. We could do this for hours, teeth and lips and hands and skin, half dressed and panting against each other. But I want what comes next, and I know he does, too.
I reach for his waistband, unlacing the neat little bow at the tie, and I can’t help but grin at the endearing image of Charlie untying and retying the laces of his joggers, nervously adjusting his clothing.
I love him. I love him in this, and I love him trying to hide his nerves, and I love him joking with Ana, and I love him teaching me to angle a knife against an artery, and I love him on his knees for me.
He pulls my thighs around his hips and rolls us so he’s underneath me. I feel his cock hard and pressed against my ass, so I rock back against him. The olive branches inked onto this throat stretch in front of me as he arches his head back and squeezes my thighs.
“Fuck, Gwen,” he pants, and it’s the most intoxicating thing I’ve ever heard.
I want to do it again, to drive him to the edge of pain, to hear his voice break for me. But we have plans, and I can’t get carried away.
I lean forward and lick up the column of his throat, savoring the salt of his skin on my tongue, the subtle sweetness of his cologne in my nose.
“You sure you want this?” I ask against his shoulder, his neck, kissing between words. His fingers slip into my hair until his hands are cradling my head, and he pulls me back to look into my eyes.
“I’m sure.” No hesitation in his eyes. No worry, no shame, no fear. Just eagerness and anticipation as he pulls me down close to kiss me. “Please, mio filo, fuck me.”
The words break me and stitch me back together all in the same moment. Charlie’s trust, his vulnerability, is the thread that binds this new version of myself, loved and unafraid.
I unwrap my body from his and clamber off him, trying to hide my apprehension, but I’m bouncing on my toes as I stand to the side of the bed. He gives me an endeared smile, a shaky laugh slipping from him as he sits so I can stand between his legs.
He peppers soft kisses on my shoulders and chest as he hooks his thumbs into my shorts and pulls them down my legs. When I kick them off, he reaches for the box at the end of the bed and starts pulling out the contents.
We’ve watched about a dozen videos, both of the erotic and educational variety, so it doesn’t surprise me when Charlie takes the lead, sliding the bumper over the base of the slim silicone cock and fitting it into the silver ring. The person I was before Charlie would have thought research before sex would be a mood killer, but few things have been hotter than laying in bed, watching porn, discussing what looks intriguing and what doesn’t. Pressing my lubed fingers and toys into his ass while I have him talk through his fantasies. What he wants me to do to him, for him, with him.
The devotion in his gaze is overpowering as he wraps the harness around my waist, pulling the strap until it”s snug, but not tight. He runs a finger under the leather, ensuring it won’t bite at my skin, and I can see the hairs on his arm standing straight. He wraps each hanging strap around my thighs, one at a time, pressing his lips against my stomach. When the harness is secure, he leans back, his eyes dark and hazy with lust.
It’s a little odd, the way I have to shift my hips and redistribute my weight, but it feels nice. I take the dildo and adjust it so the bumper sits comfortably against my clit. I’m already soaked, and the silicone slips pleasurably against me as I stroke the toy again.
Charlie’s cough has me looking up from where my hand meets silicone. He’s so gorgeous like this—pupils blown out, hair out of place from my hands, chest rising and falling hard as he grips the edge of the mattress. His eyes can”t seem to settle on any part of me, tracing my breasts, climbing up my legs, watching me pump the toy between my legs in my fist.
“If you want me to stop?” I ask, rolling one of my nipples between my fingers.
“Lemon,” he says, the whites of his knuckles the only sign that he’s holding back.
“Good husband,” I murmur, and I swear he whimpers when I twist my nipple harder and let out a cry. “Do you want to suck this for me?” I ask, pumping the dildo between my legs.
He nods quickly and then remembers his voice.
“Can I touch you while I do?” He’s pleading like there’s nothing he wants more.
It’s intoxicating, and I nod.
He doesn’t waste another second, flipping our positions so my ass is perched on the edge of the bed and he’s standing in front of me. He trails his fingers down my jaw, over my peaked nipples, down my stomach, until he’s gripping the toy.
“You’re incredible,” he murmurs, dropping to his knees and kissing the inside of my thighs. My body is on fire with the way he touches me. “My beautiful wife, my thread of fate.”
He pulls my body further down the bed and wraps his hands around my ass as he lowers his mouth onto the dildo.
The image of Charlie on his knees for me, mouth wrapped around the toy, is fucking incredible. I knit my fingers into his hair and pull so I can see his eyes, glazed over with lust and begging for me. He shifts his hands further toward the inside of my thighs, so his fingertips can just barely press into my pussy.
The bumper grinds against my clit as he sucks, and the sounds he’s making are driving me over the edge of sanity. He breathes heavily through his nose, never stopping, never taking his eyes off me.
“Need to be inside you,” I pant, and I have no idea whose voice that is. She’s desperate and demanding all at once. Charlie pumps his fingers into my pussy one last time before pulling back.
He tells me I’m beautiful all the time, but when he looks at me like that…
“You’re beautiful,” I whisper, unable to keep from saying it out loud. I press my palm to his cheek, rubbing my thumb over his swollen lips.
He closes his eyes and breathes deeply, turning to press a kiss into my palm. I’ve loved that, every time he’s done it.
He stands up and cradles my face, and my entire body buzzes. Lightheaded and euphoric with the feeling of him so close to me, I sway into his body, trailing my teeth and tongue and lips over his collarbones.
“Lay on the bed, mio marito,” I whisper against his skin, and I feel him laugh under my touch. I should learn more Italian, but I looked that one up as soon as we left the courthouse.
“Si, mia moglie.”
It’s inevitable that we end up with our bodies tangled again, me on top of him, the strap on caught between our stomachs as we kiss like it’s the first time. We work together to remove his pants and boxers, and I’m out of breath by the time I’m standing at the edge of the bed with Charlie staring up at me.
“Thank you,” I huff, trying to catch my breath as I coat my fingers in lube.
Charlie’s pupils are blown wide, his chest rising and falling as he watches my movements.
“For what?” he asks, the last word breaking on a soft moan as I slip my fingers against his ass.
“For watching over me in that alley,” I say, pressing into him gently. He throws his head back against the pillow, his shoulders taut. “Breathe for me, baby.”
He nods and finds my eyes again, all of his muscles relaxing until I can pump my fingers in and out of him without resistance.
I’m not afraid of hurting him. I trust him to tell me if it’s too much, or too fast. But there’s an anxiety rooted somewhere deep in my chest, because I want him to let go. This is an extreme display of trust between us, and I feel like I’ve never wanted something more than his pleasure right now.
I pull my fingers out of him, and he watches as I coat the dildo and his ass with even more lube. When I position myself against him, he laces the fingers of my right hand through his.
“I love you, Gwen,” he whispers. Electricity whips through my veins, sparking me from the inside out.
“I love you, Charlie,” I say, and push into him.
It takes some breathing and relaxing—this is a step up from any of the toys we’ve used—but eventually I’m fully seated in him. His face is pinched in a pained bliss as he breathes through the new sensations. And even though I can’t feel myself inside him, the new perspective is exhilarating.
Charlie spends so much of our time together begging to give me pleasure, to take care of me. There’s something about giving him something new, focusing on him and his desires, that makes me feel like I’ve filled my chest with helium.
“Is this okay?” I ask, just barely pulling my hips back and sliding in. Charlie moans, and the sound is like a straight shot of liquor.
“So good, Gwen, please,” he begs, still gripping my fingers tightly. I repeat the motion, and his legs widen a bit more, giving me more room.
“You’re so good for me, Charlie,” I say, finding a slow, gentle rhythm.
His cock is hard and laying against his stomach, leaking pre-cum that I wish I could lean over and lick. Instead, I settle for drifting my free hand over the underside. Charlie jerks and moans.
“Fuckfuckfuckfuck,” he repeats, and I take his cock in my hand and pump it along with the motion of my hips.
The grinder continues to bump against my clit, still slick from my absolutely soaked pussy. The pressure isn’t consistent enough to make me come, but it builds upon the feeling of euphoria I get from watching Charlie fall apart under me.
“Do you want to come like this?” I ask him, pulling out nearly to the tip and sliding back in, feeling his hips jerk into my hand.
“I think it’s too much, for this time,” he pants, finding my eyes.
There’s a bit of guilt there, and I slow my movements, releasing his pulsing cock and trailing my fingers gently over his thigh. He shivers as I pump slowly back into him.
“Thank you for telling me,” I reply, my breath thin from exertion. He looks almost relieved, and I hope the more we do things like this, the more he knows he could never disappoint me.
After a few more minutes, I slide out of him for a final time, and he’s immediately leaning forward, grasping my hips and pressing kisses to my sternum.
“Can I take this off you?” he asks, rubbing the strap of the harness between his fingers.
I agree, and he carefully removes the entire contraption, setting it on the floor on one of the towels we brought out. He pulls me on top of him, sliding his tongue into my mouth and kissing me until we can’t breathe.
I can’t help but grind on his cock, my clit throbbing with need. He groans into my mouth, reaching his hand out toward the nightstand.
“It’s okay,” I say, pulling back just a few inches to look into his eyes. “I went to the doctor. Got birth control. If you want, I mean.” I’m missing a few words in my explanation, but my need is too potent to be eloquent.
“When did you have time to go to the doctor?” Charlie asks, and then seems to shake himself out of his shock. “Wrong question. You want to go without a condom?”
The thought of Charlie bare inside of me has my cunt clenching around nothing, and I grind against his cock again.
“I would like to, but only if you’re okay with it,” I reply.
His mouth is back against mine before I even finish the sentence, rolling my bottom lip between his teeth. He rolls us so I’m pinned beneath him, my hips still fighting to get as close to him as possible.
“Anything for you, my perfect wife,” he says, pulling back and lining his cock up with my pussy.
He pushes into me slowly, and I was right. It’s so much better. Feeling him inside me, being this close, it’s a whole new level of fucking Charlie.
“I thought about this,” he mutters, almost like he’s saying it to himself as he reaches for a spare pillow and shoves it under my hips. The movement lifts my pelvis so his cock is hitting an angle inside of me that has my eyes rolling back in my head. “When you first looked over the contract, and you asked about kids. I thought about filling your sweet, perfect cunt up all the way back then. Did you know that, Gwen?”
I can’t answer, because he’s rocking into me, one hand on my hip and another on my abdomen, his thumb barely brushing my clit. The feeling is overwhelming, like fireworks bursting under my skin, and we’ve barely started.
“I asked you a question, mio filo,” he says, his voice shaking a bit as he pumps into me faster. When I finally am able to catch his gaze, I smile at him.
“Someone feels like switching up the roles,” I laugh, and he pulls completely out of me, rubbing the head of his cock against my clit.
“We promised to do whatever felt right that first night, and I’m acting on instinct,” he says, a smile on his face as he pushes back into me swiftly, his cock so deep inside of me I can’t help but cry out.
“Harder, Charlie, please,” I say, and even though it feels like I’m begging, I know Charlie would do anything I asked right now. Change his pace, our position, fuck me however I told him to. There’s something electric about the power exchange, the way we can read each other’s bodies and minds.
He does exactly as I ask, pressing his thumb with more force against my clit and fucking me into the mattress, each thrust moving me further and further up it until I have to brace my hands against the headboard above me. Charlie’s cock fills every inch of me, and I spread my legs as wide as I can so he can get closer, harder, faster.
“Anything you want, Gwen,” he says, breathing hard and trickling sweat down his chest.
My orgasm rips through me without warning, the build and fall so sudden that I nearly black out with pleasure and shock. I hear Charlie cursing in Italian above me as I arch against him, wave after wave of pleasure ripping me apart at the seams. He doesn”t relent, and his fingers on my clit and cock rocking against my g-spot drag out my climax until Charlie drops to his elbows above me. His tongue is against mine, both of us desperately riding our pleasure and each other’s until he stills, every muscle in his body corded tight as he spills inside me.
I felt like I’ve run a marathon. My breath comes so heavy that my chest touches Charlie’s as I try to come back down to earth. After a few beats, Charlie pulls out of me and drops to my side, immediately wrapping me in his arms and burying his nose in my hair.
Eventually, we’ll clean up each other and the room, but for now, we lay in each other’s arms, murmuring declarations of love and affection while we trace the red string tied around each other’s fingers.