Chapter 22
TWENTY-TWO
SADIE
The floodgates had opened. In the days that followed, Gideon and I hardly left the cottage. We ate, laughed, slept, and screwed. Ducked out for groceries and matcha lattes. Came back and fell into bed together.
I’d never had so much sex in my life. Not in a way that always felt so good.
Gideon was a generous lover, and he was committed to learning my body.
He read about vaginismus and asked me questions.
They weren’t the questions I was used to; he never asked me how long it would take to get better, or talked about me getting better at all.
He was curious and nonjudgmental. He respected my limits, and he sensed when I was pushing them out of a sense of misplaced duty.
As the days passed, I began to believe him when he said he enjoyed making me climax just for the sake of it.
All was quiet on the Mr. Titty front—no new tags appeared in town. I received no threatening calls or texts. It was as if the world outside had paused in order to allow us to have this time together.
A week passed in a haze of pleasure. We finally left the cottage to go to Sunday lunch with the family, and left as soon as the plates were cleared. I ignored the wiggling eyebrows and wolf whistles that chased us out.
That evening, with my face burning, I showed him my dilator set and watched his eyes spark with interest. He grabbed the fourth one—second-to-largest—and turned it around in his hand.
“I haven’t tried that one yet,” I admitted.
“You want to?”
I blinked. “You mean—with you?”
His smile was wicked.
“I’ve never… It’s not usually something I do with someone else…”
Gideon shrugged and put the device back in the box.
Impulsively, I picked it up again. My heart began to gallop.
I held the soft silicone shaft and realized I’d never believed that I’d actually be able to put it inside me.
It was too big, being maybe an inch in diameter and four inches long.
When a single finger of mine was painful, that size might as well be the girth of a soda can. No, thank you.
But that was before Gideon. Before a week of good sex. Before the safety of his affection.
I thrust the dilator at him. “Okay,” I said. “Let’s do it.”
He softened, wrapping his hand around the pink silicone, then took me in his arms. He kissed me for a long time, then spent even longer stroking my body. By the time I’d taken my pants and underwear off, I was drenched.
Only then did he look at the dilator on the bedside table. My lube was beside it, and he flicked the cap open to squirt some onto his hand. It wasn’t inherently sexy. In fact, it was a little awkward. Clear goop covered his fingertips, glistening in the light of the bedroom.
“Spread your legs, love,” he murmured, and I did. His fingers were warm, but the lube was cool. I twitched at the feel of it, then exhaled when he pushed his finger inside me.
We’d done this a lot this week, but I still marveled at the feel of it. Gideon’s other thumb moved to my bud, exactly where I needed it. He knew my body as well as I knew it myself. I writhed on the bed as he watched the movement of his hands on my core, mesmerized.
“Gideon,” I whispered.
“Mm?”
“What if it doesn’t work?”
“What if what doesn’t work?”
“This. What if it’s too big?”
“Then we stop.”
“That’s it?”
His gaze flicked up to meet mine. His hands stilled, and then one palm moved up to stroke my lower belly. His finger slid out of me, and he rested his hand on my inner thigh. “You don’t have to do this, Sadie. I’m not going to be mad at you for something you can’t control.”
“But I should control it,” I said, and tears gathered in my eyes. I squeezed them shut and threw my arm over my face to hide my shame. “I just want to be fixed.”
“There’s nothing to fix.”
I snorted.
Gideon’s hand wrapped around my elbow, and he pulled it off my face. He lay down beside me, silent. I turned my head on the pillow to meet his gaze, and we stayed like that for a long time. He had one hand on my stomach, the other curled under his head. He was so patient.
“In every romantic relationship I’ve ever been in,” I whispered, “my partner has pretended like everything is fine until they realize that actually, my body isn’t going to change.
This is it.” I gestured to myself helplessly.
“Their penis isn’t going to magically cure me.
And then they start treating me like dirt, and they dump me. ”
“You think I’m going to do the same.”
“Aren’t you?” I blurted. “This is fun now, but how long until you just want to get your dick wet? Until you ask me to open the relationship because you need something I can’t give you?”
My husband’s eyes flashed. He rolled on top of me, pinning my wrists to the bed. “Don’t fucking compare me to your loser exes, Sadie. Never again.”
Tears leaked down the sides of my face. “I don’t know what else to believe.”
“Listen to me when I say this.” He manacled my wrists to the bed, but his touch was soft.
“You’re it for me. You are my wife. For better or worse.
And if our bodies aren’t compatible the way men and women normally are, then we’ll find a thousand different ways to enjoy each other.
I’ve had plenty of practice getting my dick wet,” he added, spitting my own words back at me.
“Being with you is better than anything that came before.”
My lip trembled. Gideon watched me, and then, coming to a decision, he swore and sat up. He straddled me, his hips pinning mine to the bed. With one harsh movement, he tugged his long-sleeve T-shirt off over his head and tossed it to the floor. There he stayed, a silent challenge in his eyes.
It was the first time he’d let me see his scars in their entirety.
My heart thrummed as I reached for him, then hesitated. “Will it hurt if I touch you?”
A muscle jumped in his cheek, but he shook his head. “I don’t have much sensation over the scars. It feels…strange. I don’t normally like to be touched. But—if you want—”
Tentatively, I reached for his chest, then traced the edge of the scar tissue along the front of his shoulder.
Gideon watched me as I ran my fingers over the burn scars on his shoulder, then shuddered as I ran my hand down his arm and over the worst of the scars on his forearm.
Stroking back up to his neck, I traced over his jaw and into his hair.
“For better or worse,” he repeated bitterly.
“Better,” I said, touching his shoulders then stroking down his chest. “Definitely better.”
He frowned, searching my expression, then, slowly, relaxed.
I explored his body, marveling at the hard pack of muscle, wondering at the pain he must have endured during the fire and in his recovery.
His body was a work of art. It was the story of his bravery and his selflessness.
It was finally mine to touch and admire and adore.
I realized I was truly in love with him, head over heels, never coming back.
I wondered if he could see it in my eyes when our gazes met.
Maybe that’s why he shifted off me and slid his hand between my legs again.
Maybe the reverence with which he touched me was his way of telling me he felt the same way.
This time, when he slid a finger inside me, there was nothing but pleasure in the touch.
I reached for him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and kissing his jaw as he slid his finger in and out.
I spread my knees as wide as I could, arching into the touch.
He hummed his pleasure, peppering my shoulder and neck with kisses.
His skin was hot against mine as I rolled into him to press my chest against his, and I sighed at the ecstasy of finally feeling it against my own.
“My greedy wife,” he murmured. “Greedy, horny, perfect wife.”
Embarrassment was a hot flush that only heightened my pleasure. “You’re so rude,” I murmured, and he chuckled.
Then he pulled back to watch my face, and he added a finger. I clung to him, trembling, as he made shallow little movements and whispered, “Okay?”
I nodded, blowing out a breath, my fingers sinking into his shoulders. “Better than okay,” I said, and he went a little deeper.
“You want to try the toy?”
His eyes were clear blue and patient. There was no ulterior motive in his question. It was entirely up to me. I inhaled sharply and said, “It’s a medical device, actually.”
His smile was a flash of white, and he dipped his face to kiss me.
He pushed his fingers a little deeper and swallowed my gasp.
His tongue brushed mine as he worked his fingers inside me until I was panting and writhing beneath him.
Gideon was generous with his praise. He murmured in my ear about how brave and perfect and beautiful I was.
He kissed my neck and hummed when I reached down to grab his wrist, rocking my hips against his hand.
He made it feel good to let go, because there was no endgame other than my own pleasure.
I’d never been with anyone like this. I hadn’t even known it was possible for sex to be like this.
I scrabbled at the bedside table, and Gideon got the message. He reached over to grab the dilator, squeezed some lube on it, then brought it to my core. He didn’t have to tell me that he’d stop if I said so. It was right there in his eyes as he watched me.
The dilator slid in. Filled me up. I whimpered, but it wasn’t from pain. Gideon’s eyes skittered down my body to watch as he moved the shaft to penetrate me in slow, deep strokes. His breathing became shallow.
It was an entirely different experience to do this with someone else. Vulnerable in a way that amplified the pleasure. Every stroke of the shaft against my inner walls made me want more. I reached down to guide his hand, and he grunted in encouragement, shifting so he could watch.