Chapter 29 Viviana
VIVIANA
Loving someone doesn’t come with conditions. It is deciding to take him as he is and give him the time he needs. I don’t want to pry him open, bleeding him out, but rather gently peel his layers, kiss every scar, soothe every wound, love him with everything in me so he feels safe.
I throw my arms around his neck, the need for him overpowering me.
After months of feeling lost, angry, and sad, happiness pours in, sealing the wound.
A lifetime together. That’s what I wish for because he’s my home, the only man I’ve felt truly myself with—my safe space where I can grow.
“I’m sorry, mo run. I thought once you knew who I truly was, you’d reject me,” he says as he carries me to the bed.
“I know.”
The truth feels liberating. Loving him comes naturally.
“No more hiding, please.”
He nods, taking my mouth into another passionate kiss that leaves me breathless, but not for long. Inhaling him in, he fills my every crevice. It’s not a matter of letting him in. He has always been present as if our souls fused together long before our bodies met.
In bed, he lies on his back, and I plaster myself over his chest, my fingers brushing along his side to trace every inch of his sculpted body.
“Why did you come home early?”
“Missed you,” I whisper, smiling at him.
A contented sound vibrates in his throat as he caresses my spine. I close my eyes, savoring the intimacy floating between us—this familiarity that transcends reason.
He grins, his features relaxing, making me feel so proud that he’s only like this with me. “Is that so?”
I pin him with a serious look. “You know so.”
The grin turns into a full chuckle, the deep sounds causing butterflies to swarm in my belly.
Closing my eyes, sleep pulls me in, murmuring, “Don’t leave me.”
“I’m right here, baby. I am not going anywhere.”
Arms outstretched, I fall into the seductive arms of oblivion only to wake up with him between my thighs.
Sunrays stream through the window, bathing him in a glow, making him appear even more handsome.
His intense eyes bore into mine, instantly making me hot. He emanates a raw masculinity and sheer sexuality that put me in the mood like nothing else.
I stretch leisurely before I hold myself on my forearms, biting my lip. “You waited for me to wake up first. Such a gentleman.”
“If you say so.” He smirks, wearing a mischievous gleam. “I just wanted to catch those eyes popping when I put my mouth on you.”
He flattens his tongue, licking me from bottom to top, and my fingers dig into the mattress, the pleasure so exquisite, my head rolls back.
A slap connects with my pussy and my eyes pop open, shifting my attention back to him.
“Eyes on me.”
“So bossy,” I moan as he coaxes every bit of pleasure from my folds.
I don’t even know who loves him eating me out more. But I’m definitely not complaining.
Our moans and groans flow into a decadent rhythm of sensuality. He feasts on me as if I am his last meal—greedy, then leisurely, like he can’t decide between savoring or devouring me.
I fist the sheet as he sweeps me somewhere only bliss awaits. That high is so addictive, I never want to sober up. It’s a wonder I’ve held on for so long, forsaking rapture.
Between his skilled mouth and proficient fingers applying just the right pressure and constant rhythm, I don’t stand a chance. When he nibbles on my clit and scissors his fingers inside of me, wringing every bit of pleasure, I explode, stars dancing before my eyes, lighting up the entire room.
I fall on my back, catching my breath as he climbs on top of me, licking my juices from his mouth and chin.
The image is so erotic, my thighs clench, not caring that I am sensitive after I just came.
I pull him down to me, kissing him with ardor, desperately needing him.
He slips inside me, so maddeningly slow, I feel every ridge of his iron cock, conquering me from inside, ravishing and ruining me for anyone else.
Locking my arms around his neck, I dig my heels into his back, wanting to feel him even closer, pushing him even deeper inside of me. He fills me to completion. In and out of bed.
There’s always a pinch of pain involved, one I crave just as much. He’s so deliciously big that it’s a struggle to take every inch, the tight fit making me delirious with lust.
A low sound of satisfaction rumbles in his throat. “Fuck, I am already at your cervix. I can’t get deeper,” he says, sounding as if there was a possibility he would, his desperation matching mine.
Burying his face in the crook of my neck, my nails scratch along his back to mark him just as he marks me.
As he makes love to me, emotions overwhelm me, and tears gather in my eyes.
Something irreversible clicks in place. A titanium chord latches around our beings, locking our hearts and binding us forever.
Nothing could ever tear us apart. The experience is so intense yet sweet.
I palm his face, and he notices my welled-up gaze.
He kisses my eyelids, the tip of my nose, peppering my face with kisses. “Mo run. The treasure of my life. My one and only love.”
Passion might be the driving force, but love commands our every action, creating an emotional connection that transcends the physical and bends every rule.
His words push me over the edge, and I shatter, squeezing him like I never want to let him go, believing him wholeheartedly.
Gripping my thigh, he feeds me his desire with every rock of his hips, using my body as a vessel for his pleasure, a tool to satiate his incessant lust.
“You feel so good,” he groans, pupils blown. “Your pussy is my drug, and fucking you is my sole addiction. The one high I’ll chase until my last breath.”
I place my palms on his chest, his heart thumping under my touch like a wild beast, whispering above his lips. “Then come, join me in euphoria.”
He braces against the headboard and throws his head back—a male masterpiece unraveling above me. Muscles rippling with the strength of a hundred warriors and sharp lines carved in a body created by the god of temptation himself, he moves above me as seductive and deep as the ocean.
He comes in long spurts, pumping me with his seed—a divine hedonist for my eyes only. The sight is sublime—pure eroticism, captivating me.
If it were possible, I’d freeze time right here and now to capture his eyes lighting up, gazing at me with pure adoration, his smile stretching across his face.
“I love you,” he says, brushing a kiss on my lips.
“I love you,” I sigh dreamily.
Slipping out of me, I feel the loss instantly, but he stands up, stretching out his hand to me.
I take it. This is my man. My husband. My impossible dream come true.
Around the breakfast table, I look out the window longingly, the summer is in full bloom, and I’m regretting not going on a honeymoon.
As if he can sense my sadness, he says, “Let’s go away once the summer classes end.”
The corners of my mouth arch up in a smile, my mood instantly switching to bright. “Let’s.”
He exhales a sigh of relief as if the last weight on his shoulders dropped, easing the constant pressure.
After finishing breakfast, I rest my face between my palms, simply contemplating him. “You’re my husband.”
“I am, wife.” He grins, the boyish smile adding some more to his charm. “Needed some time to accept it?”
I giggle.
“What do you want to see?”
“All the touristy stuff.” I shrug, wishing to discover his city, going from a transplant to someone who knows every nook and cranny of this metropolis. It is my home after all.
He scrunches his nose but nods, unable to refuse me, making me feel adored and cherished. My heart soars, giving me the impression of floating in the sky, each star a dream I only have to touch to materialize.
Standing up, I reach him and settle myself between his legs, needing to feel as close to him as possible to share all these wondrous feelings he ignites in me.
His hands move to my sides, gripping my waist. The possessiveness undoes me, and I lower my head to kiss him, savoring the serene moment.
He slaps my ass, groaning low in his throat. “Go dress before I change my mind.”
I rush to the walk-in closet with a smile stuck on my face, pick a simple beige knee-length A-line dress, and slip on some flats.
Letting my hair fall in waves down my back, I apply light makeup and watch him change into a polo and some slacks. He looks good in anything he wears, so no wonder I constantly salivate at the sight of him.
Hand in hand, we go out, the intimacy that has been lacking since I moved here returning, stepping out of the shadow, exposed by our love.
Throughout the day, we walk for miles, but I love uncovering this city with him by my side.
We pass a neighborhood, and he stops in front of a dilapidated building.
I sense there’s history there, so I squeeze his hand in silent support.
He glares at it. “I grew up in this house. I don’t remember being happy, but occasionally, my mom would smile at me, hugging me, preparing meals.”
“The brain latches onto the bad memories rather than on the happy ones for self-preservation.”
He nods. “I never knew what he’d do next. I think my sleeplessness started as a survival mechanism. If I were awake, he couldn’t surprise me.”
My heart shatters for him, and I lean into his side, wishing to go back in time to save him.
I can’t change his horrific past. I can simply love him.
“He wanted to get rid of all my poor traits. The ones I inherited from my mother.” He snickers. “I am too much this, too little that.”
“He didn’t break you.”
“No.” Eyes locked on mine, his shine with unfiltered love. “Only one person wields that power. You.”
“You’re safe with me,” I murmur.
He palms my cheek and kisses me, the demons of his past backtracking.
As we walk away, I plan to redefine this building. He won’t keep it as a shrine, a place to grieve. Laughter and kids’ happiness will fill its halls.
The rest of the day goes by too quickly, wrapped in the dreamy bubble of togetherness.