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“You really are perfect,” he said.

Climbing over me on the bed, he pushed my knees up toward my chest so I was completely split open for him. As I waited for him to slam into my pussy, I could feel my heart hammering. When he finally thrusted inside me again, filling me up, I moaned along with him. We were both breathing hard, gasping for air as his long, hard cock stroked in and out of me in a blissful rhythm. I couldn’t get enough.

“More,” I ordered. “You feel so good.”

He slipped his hand down and swept his thumb in circles over my clit, just above where his cock was fucking me, and my entire body jerked with pleasure.

“I love you, Tori,” Stefan groaned as I thrusted in time with him, my body moving of its own volition, searching, seeking release. “I’ll always love you. I promise.”

Hearing his words, my eyes began to burn again and I tilted my hips up off the bed, forcing his cock even deeper. I didn’t know if he would remember his promises tomorrow when he was fully sober, or if he would regret them. Didn’t know if he’d remember how we’d made love like this. But I didn’t care. All I cared about was taking as much of him as I could in this moment and holding on.

“Take me,” I told him. “As hard as you can.”

He did as I asked, fucking me even harder, almost violently, his hips drumming against mine as my head hit the headboard. I lost myself in the movements of his body, in the way he took me, the feel of his cock inside of me, of his fingers against my clit. Hot sparks were twisting in my core, faster, hotter, deeper. I yelled his name, finally climaxing in an explosion of sensation and pleasure. My pussy clenched around him, my fingers digging into his shoulders as I came in waves, harder and stronger than I ever had before.

Leaning over me, Stefan kept fucking me, driving his cock into my orgasm, my body no longer my own, his body no longer his. My release began to ebb, the contractions slowing, and then just when it seemed completely impossible, the hints of another orgasm began to spread through me. I slid my hands down to Stefan’s biceps, squeezing, holding on as tight as I could.

“I’m coming,” I told him, tears pricking my eyes. “I’m coming again.”

“I love you,” he said, his voice hoarse in my ear. “I love you. Only you.”

He dropped his lips onto mine as he fucked me hard, drawing out my second orgasm, making me cry out beneath him, moaning my pleasure into the quiet of the room. Then he spilled his own release deep and hot inside of me, whispering my name as he came.

Tori

Chapter 5

Sipping my coffee at the kitchen table, I looked out at the gorgeous view of Chicago’s iconic skyline, the icy blue waters of Lake Michigan lapping at the shore, the expanse of trees and green space along Lake Shore Drive. It was the kind of cold, clear day that reminded you that winter could be beautiful too.

If it wasn’t a Monday, I would have just burrowed under the covers and tried to read in bed all day, but I had classes to attend. On top of that, Stefan was still asleep in the guest room, and I planned to avoid talking to him until he was ready to tell me what he’d decided to do about Anja and the boy. So here I was, drinking coffee by myself, feeling completely at a loss.

Waking up in my husband’s arms that morning had almost killed me. I’d told myself that the sex last night could be a goodbye, but in the light of day I realized I wasn’t ready for goodbye. Not at all. I didn’t want to be apart from him, either. But I forced myself up and out of bed, leaving him to his probable hangover, knowing that once I left him, I’d have to give him—and myself—some breathing room.

At least I was the one controlling my distance from Stefan. As much as I knew he’d need his space, I didn’t think I’d be able to handle hearing the words come out of his mouth—I figured it was better to just keep myself away, let him take some time to process all the things he was dealing with.

If I was honest, though, I had to admit that part of me was avoiding him on purpose. I was hiding. I was afraid of what he’d say about Anja and his son if I confronted him right now. Maybe if he took a few days or even weeks to think it all over, he’d realize there were plenty of ways to work out the logistics of his new family life without ending our marriage. The last thing I wanted was for him to feel pressured, like he had to rush to make any big decisions.

I set my empty cup in the sink and padded down the hall to the master bedroom to get ready for school. It would be best to let him sleep. Get out of the condo before he woke up.

School wouldn’t be much of an escape, though. I’d have to put on a happy face for my friends and teachers, focus all my energy on paying attention in class instead of wallowing over Stefan, and hope that my inner turmoil wouldn’t affect any of my lessons.

My shower was quick, but it was impossible to ignore the bruises on my ass, and how sore I still was from the hard, intense sex we’d had. It made me ache for Stefan all over again.

Last night had been amazing, and I regretted nothing…but he’d obviously been at least somewhat drunk and likely not thinking straight, given the shock and the alcohol combined. I was sure he’d wake up today with his priorities sorted out, and I knew I might not be at the top of that list anymore—or even on that list at all. He’d been searching for Anja for years, after all. And that didn’t even account for the reality of their son.

Remembering the adorable, dark-haired boy with my husband’s eyes, my stomach twisted. Stefan had a son now. Things were going to be completely different, and it would be stupid to pretend otherwise.

As I put on my makeup, I couldn’t help obsessing over every little thing Stefan had said to me the night before. He’d said that he loved me, only me, and that he always would. He’d promised. He’d said I was his and that I was perfect for him. But he’d been drunk, too, and under an incredible amount of stress. Maybe the heat of the moment had pulled those words from his lips. It would be foolish to hold on to them, to hope that they were true.

Even though he was sleeping in the next room, he already felt miles away. It was torture.

I blinked back tears, dabbing at my now-wet mascara with a tissue, knowing I had to get my mind off the situation before I completely fell apart and couldn’t make it to class. That wasn’t an option. I had a test in Latin today, and finals were rapidly approaching so every point counted. Even one missed class could compromise my grades, and as pathetic as it sounded, my linguistics program was all I had to keep me going right now.

Latin vocabulary usually always put me in a good mood—how the words came out of your mouth reminiscent of the magic spells from Harry Potter, the way they so often sounded familiar since Latin formed the roots of many modern languages. But I struggled to find that joy today as I pulled out my school binder and ran down the vocab list in my notes.

Abduco, the root of abduct, meaning to detach or withdraw, to lead or take away.

Blanditia, the root of blandishments, meaning attractions, charm, allurement.