Chapter Delilah #3
“Fuck me,” I moan at the sight as the end credits of the movie play, bathing everything in a soft cream light. “Don’t fucking move.”
She whimpers, her thighs shaking with the urge to move while I try to commit the image to memory.
Her cunt is stretched around my forearm, almost tricking me into thinking the rest of my arm is deep inside her if it wasn’t for the scars crawling up to my elbow.
Tears sparkle in her beautiful eyes as she whimpers again, fighting the urge to move.
“Cry for me, koukla mou,” I beg. “Wash away my sins.”
I keep my movements slow, exploring how much her body can take as I push more of my arm into her and feed her ass more of my dick. Her whimpered moans echo around us as she sweetly begs, “Please.”
“Please, what?” I push deeper into her, feeling the pressure on my dick through the thin barrier. “Such a filthy fucking wife. Is your mouth feeling left out?”
“Kane,” she cries, tightening around me as tears drip down her cheeks.
I lightly slap her cheek then hook my two middle fingers over her teeth with the other two pushing into her cheeks. It gives me full control of her body, and I can’t fucking go slow anymore. Instead, I fuck her with abandon as her tears race down the side of my fingers into her open mouth.
I need her to come so hard she fucking covers me. I can feel the pressure increasing as she tries to push me out, but I continue fucking her as she digs her nails into my thighs, drawing blood.
“That’s fucking it, wife. Mark me, bleed me, cleanse me.”
Her entire body is pulled taut as she tries to escape me.
Her head tries to roll back, back arching, tits to the heavens, and a garbled scream vibrates over my fingers as I quickly pull my arm out of her.
Delilah fucking soaks me, more than she ever has done before.
My eyes close on instinct as her cum sprays my face, my chest, my shoulders.
I remove my fingers from her mouth, gently holding the back of her head to guide her down to my chest as she tearfully stutters with a smile on her beautiful face, “I l-lo-love you.”
Tremors shake her entire body, but she has enough strength to find my lips.
I smile like a lovesick fool. I don’t hide it when there’s no illusion about who has the most power between us.
It’s Delilah. It will always be Delilah.
In my heart, my soul, my body. The highest fucking point of my life is her—only her.
I cup her ass as I kiss her with every ounce of love and life I have for this formidable woman. My woman, my wife—
“Come for your god,” she demands, hugging my shoulders.
—and my god.
Her chest slides against mine as she fucks me back, kissing me with even more emotion.
“I love you, Mrs. Delilah Xandros,” I moan into her.
Anyone who says their wife has never looked as beautiful as she did on their wedding day is a fucking liar.
True beauty is the morning after, waking up to Delilah tucked to my chest, knowing this will be the view every morning for the rest of my fucking life.
She has creases in her cheek from the sheet trapped between us and my refusal to let her go through the night.
Her hair is sticking up at one side, yet she’s never been as beautiful.
It’s terrifying and peaceful to know I’m continuously falling in love with her. There’s never been a day I haven’t loved her. Even when I thought I hated her, I still loved her.
I watch the sky slowly lighten through the large glass windows of our new bedroom, fully bringing her into view.
The house is positioned to give an optimal view of the stars which she forced herself to stay awake to witness, so I don’t disturb her as I kiss the top of her head, gently rolling her onto her side before slipping out from the bed.
I don’t know where my boxers are, but I thankfully had the forethought to leave some of our clothes here before I gave her the house.
It takes me longer to pull on a pair of shorts without a seat to keep me balanced and I grab a zip-up hoodie on my way out.
It’s one of the rare mornings where neither of us had a nightmare the night before, so the silence is nice.
It’s become routine to listen to the water as soon as I wake up while checking there’s no one else in the house.
A stupid thing to do when we never stay anywhere without security I’ve personally checked, but it’s a habit, nonetheless.
Like every morning I’ve woken up since Helene’s death, there’s no one else around as I leave the glass house.
I walk across the wooden deck to sit on the edge to watch the sun rise.
A new day will come, pushing the memories further into the past. But as the wind moves between the wildflowers growing in the undisturbed sandy bank, there’s a soft flutter beside my ear.
It moves over my shoulder faster than I catch sight of what it is until it gently perches on my hand.
A butterfly.
A butterfly with peach-tipped wings, blending into deep red closer to its body, a bright green edge and bright blue scale patterns at the bottom of the wings tailing into the green edge.
“Kid?” I smile as my vision blurs. “You came to hold my hand again?”
He doesn’t fly away as my tears slowly drip down my cheeks. “I miss you, Kid,” I whisper as the butterfly, my beautiful boy, softly opens and closes his colorful wings while I refuse to blink. “I’ll always miss you.”
I wish I could build up the courage to tell Delilah about him.
I’ve experienced many different forms of pain, yet this one is different.
Watching him become more confident, bloom into a butterfly, is one of the biggest honors of my life.
I hope he knows I didn’t leave him, how loved he was, that I miss him.
Yet all I can manage to tell him is, “I love you, Kid.”
The butterfly softly flutters its wings again, but it doesn’t fly off.
My tears continue falling as he taps against the back of my hand with his colorful wings, choking on everything I wish I could say to him.
I carefully lift my hand so we’re eye to eye as Delilah’s mismatched gait walks down the deck.
He’s still here when she lowers to sit beside me, taking the hoodie from my thigh to wrap it around her like a blanket. Her voice is gentle as she says, “I’ve never seen one that color before. It’s beautiful.”
“Yeah…” I try to say more but I can’t.
Why is grief so fucking difficult?
It’s been years yet I can never bring myself to speak about him to the one person who understands the pain we’ve been through.
We each have our own painful memories we’re incapable of discussing.
Mine is Kid, the butterflies. Delilah’s is the small hourglass timer she carries everywhere.
She sets it in front of us as we watch the rays of the sun stretch across the horizon with the last few stars visible.
Maybe this is what marriage is. Accepting the painful parts of the other person without needing to have the full details. Accepting there are some pains and mistakes you can’t fix but you still make a conscious effort to be there, to show up, be fucking better every day.
“I love you, my pretty girl.” I wrap my left arm around her, keeping Kid on my hand as I kiss the top of her head—finally having my family together.
She lays her head on my shoulder, whispering back, “I love you too, baby.” She softly kisses my cheek, but as her lips are about to move, Kid flies up.
The tips of his colorful wings brush my cheek as he lands on Delilah’s face.
I breathe through my tears as the delicate wings kiss my skin the same as they do to my wife’s.
They continue falling as he flutters around us like weightless silk the soft breeze is carrying before he flies through the wildflowers over the water, disappearing from sight.
The End.