Chapter 29
The storm still raged outside. Not a real storm, with thunder and lightning slashing across the sky, but one that came from every direction: newspapers, social media, fiery debates on TV.
Each new day seemed to bring a flood of attacks, fake news, and controversies that dragged us into the center of an endless political war.
But inside that house, far from the cameras and spotlights, it was just the two of us.
Fernando sat on the couch, head resting on his hand, watching the fire crackle in the fireplace. The golden light danced across his face, softening the worry lines etched there. I approached slowly, sliding into the space beside him.
He turned to me and, for a moment, everything around us disappeared. The noise of the world, the voices of the opposition, the sensationalist headlines… None of it mattered when he looked at me that way.
“Tired?” I asked, touching his face tenderly.
He sighed, leaning into my touch.
“Tired of fighting a world that keeps trying to tear you down.”
I swallowed hard. I knew it was eating away at him. Every cruel comment about me, every lie passed off as truth, every injustice I faced.
“I can handle it,” I whispered.
Fernando looked at me for a moment, then gave me a small smile—one filled with love and sadness at the same time.
“I know you can. But you shouldn’t have to.”
We sat in silence for a few minutes, just listening to the fire crackle. I felt at peace there beside him, wrapped in his warmth, his scent, his touch. Then he moved.
Slowly, Fernando slid his hand into his pocket, as if he’d been weighing something for a long time. My heart raced when I caught a small silver gleam in his palm.
He took a deep breath, like he was steeling himself for a leap into the unknown.
“I don’t have a speech prepared.”
My mouth went dry.
“You don’t need one.”
Fernando smiled, his eyes shining in a way that made my heart melt.
“The truth is, I’ve wanted to ask you this for a while now.
But something always seemed to get in the way.
First the election. Then the exposure. Then the attacks…
But you know what? The world will always try to put obstacles between us.
There will always be a reason to wait. I don’t want to wait anymore. ”
My breath caught in my throat. He slid to the edge of the couch and knelt on the floor before me.
“Glória, I want you forever.”
My chest tightened.
“I want to wake up next to you every day, share every victory, every defeat, every moment of this chaotic life. I want us to face all of it together. I want the world to know you’re not just the woman I love, but the woman I chose—and would choose a million times over.”
A lump formed in my throat.
Fernando held my hand firmly, like he’d never let go.
“Will you marry me?”
The question was simple. No beating around the bush, no grand rehearsed gestures. Just him and me, and a question that was real and sincere.
The tears started falling before I could stop them.
“Are you sure?”
“I’ve been sure since the first time I kissed you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.
I laughed through my tears.
“That’s not true.”
“Okay, then since the first time I realized I couldn’t live without you.”
My heart leaped. I knew right then that there was no choice to make. No matter the chaos, the challenges, the tribunal of hate—Fernando was my safe harbor in the storm, and I would be his.
I swallowed past the emotion and smiled, looking into his eyes.
“Yes.”
His shoulders relaxed, as if all the weight of the world had been lifted. He slid the ring onto my finger—an elegant solitaire, understated, perfect like him.
The air in the room was heavy, thick with his scent—sweat, cologne, arousal—and the sound of our ragged breathing.
Fernando stared at me with those dark eyes that seemed to strip my soul bare, the ring on my finger still warm and unfamiliar.
He had just proposed, and now, standing at the edge of the bed, I knew he wanted to seal it with more than words.
He pulled me to him, his large hands gripping my waist, pressing our bodies together as he kissed me with a hunger that made me moan into his mouth.
The kiss was wet, urgent, his tongue tangling with mine, and I grabbed his shoulders, feeling the tense muscles beneath the shirt I was already unbuttoning, the buttons giving way one by one.
“You’re mine now, Glória,” he murmured against my lips, his voice hoarse with emotion and desire, his fingers sliding down, tugging my skirt up in one quick motion.
“I always was,” I replied, breathless, helping him peel off my blouse, the fabric falling to the floor as I tore off his shirt, exposing the broad chest I wanted to lick all over.
He pushed me onto the bed with controlled force, his eyes gleaming with arousal as he climbed over me, his hands spreading my thighs with a determination that left me wet before he even touched me.
“I want to feel you come like never before,” he said, his deep voice promising something I didn’t yet know I needed.
He pulled my panties aside, his fingers grazing my entrance, and I was already soaked, the heat dripping down my thighs as he smiled—the smile of a man who knew exactly what was coming.
“Fernando…” I moaned, but he quieted me with a kiss on my neck, his hot lips sucking at my skin while two fingers slid inside me, thick and firm, spreading me open with ease.
He started slow, his fingers stroking in and out, his thumb tracing light circles over my clit, but soon the rhythm changed—he curled his fingers, hitting that spot inside me that made me arch off the bed, a new kind of heat blooming through my belly.
“That’s it, love, let it come,” he whispered against my skin, his kisses trailing down to my chest, his mouth closing around a nipple while his fingers picked up speed, the wet sounds filling the room.
I felt pressure building, something more intense than usual, my whole body tense, my legs trembling as he worked me with a precision that was almost unbearable.
“You’re so hot,” he grunted, his thumb pressing harder against my clit, his fingers driving deep and fast, taking me somewhere I’d never been before.
“Fernando, I… I don’t know…” I tried to warn him, my voice breaking, pleasure mixing with a new, urgent sensation, like something inside me was about to explode. He lifted his face, his eyes locked on mine, and said:
“Trust me, come for me, my fiancée.” His voice was the trigger.
The orgasm hit me like thunder, a violent wave that made me scream, my whole body convulsing as I came, my muscles clenching tight around his fingers.
And then came the squirt—a hot, unexpected rush escaping from me, soaking his hand, the sheets, his hip, a release so intense it left me dizzy, my eyes rolling back as I trembled, pleasure ripping through me.
“Fuck, Glória, that’s beautiful,” he growled, his fingers still rubbing me slowly, drawing out the waves, more wetness spilling as I moaned loudly, lost in the sensation.
He pulled me into a kiss, his mouth hot and possessive against mine, while I sighed, my body limp, my thighs soaked, my heart pounding in my chest. “You’re incredible,” he whispered, settling beside me, wrapping me in his arms, his warmth anchoring me as I still trembled, the afterglow leaving a warm trail between us.
“I love you,” I managed to say, my voice weak, my body exhausted but still buzzing.
“I love you more,” he replied, kissing my forehead, his fingers tracing my skin as if he wanted to memorize every inch of me.
Then he pulled me into his arms, holding me like he’d just received the greatest gift of his life.
And maybe he had.
Because in that moment, we both knew—love was stronger than any storm. And we were ready for whatever came next.