"Come here," I say, voice dropping to the register I know makes her wet.
She obeys instantly, crossing the room like she's drawn by gravity. My hands find her hips, pulling her flush against me so she can feel exactly how hard I am for her. Thick. Ready. Always ready for her.
"Did you enjoy watching everyone fawn over your talented wife?" she asks, fingers already working my shirt buttons open.
I growl low in my throat. "I enjoyed watching you shine." My hands slide down, cupping her ass through the thin fabric. "But all night I kept thinking about getting you home. Getting you naked. Reminding you who you belong to."
A year ago those words might have made her flinch. Now they make her arch into me, thighs pressing together as heat gathers between them. She's learned to crave this side of us—the raw possession, the complete ownership. Just as I've learned every secret place on her body that makes her tremble.
"Show me," she whispers, pressing closer. "Show me who I belong to."
The words snap something inside me.
I pin her to the wall, mouth crashing down on hers. She opens immediately—sweet, eager, mine. My hands are everywhere: fisting her hair, kneading her breasts, shoving up under her dress to find?—
No panties.
She came to the gala bare beneath the silk, knowing exactly how this night would end. My good girl.
"Such a perfect pussy," I murmur, spreading her open with my thumbs. "All mine."
I drop to my knees and bury my face between her thighs. She cries out, fingers tangling in my hair, holding me exactly where she needs me. I eat her like a man starved—sucking, licking, devouring her clit until her legs shake and her pleas turn desperate.
When she's right on the edge, gasping, begging, I pull back.
"Not yet," I tell her, rising. "Want you coming on my cock."
I spin her, bend her over the back of the couch. She goes willingly, eagerly, arching her back to offer herself. I free my cock from my trousers—don't bother undressing fully. Too desperate. Too hungry.
"Gonna fuck you deep tonight," I promise, notching myself at her soaked entrance. "Put my baby in this belly."
Last week's test was negative again. The disappointment in her eyes mirrored the ache in my chest. We've been trying since the wedding. Soon. It will happen soon. I'll make damn sure of it.
I thrust in hard—possessive, claiming. She moans, pushing back to take me deeper.
"Feel that?" I growl, setting a brutal rhythm. "That's your husband claiming you."
"Yes—Sabien—please—fill me!"
My hand snakes around to circle her clit as I pound into her. Filthy promises spill from my mouth—words that once wouldhave shocked her innocent ears, now making her wetter, tighter, clenching around me like a vice.
"Gonna keep you pregnant, baby," I vow, driving deeper. "Keep this pussy dripping my cum. Make sure everyone knows you're mine. Only mine. Forever mine."
She comes with a scream, walls pulsing rhythmically, milking me. I follow right after, burying myself to the hilt and emptying deep inside her with a guttural groan, grinding against her ass to force every drop as far as it will go.
We collapse onto the couch together, her body cradled against mine. I'm still inside her, softening but unwilling to pull out. My hand rests possessively on her flat stomach. Soon, I think. Soon it will round with my child.
Her smaller hand covers mine, fingers lacing together.
"I love you," she whispers.
The words land like they always do—quiet, devastating, everything. I tighten my arm around her.
"I love you." Three words I don't say often, but I show them every day—in protection, in support, in the fierce, unrelenting devotion that would burn the world down for her.
"Mine," I murmur against her hair.
She sighs, soft and content, and I feel her relax completely against me.
Wrapped in each other, city lights glittering below, our forever sealed in sweat, love, and the kind of filthy devotion most people will never understand.
And I wouldn't trade a single second of it.