Page 18 of Beautifully Shattered (Secrets & Scars #3)

“I’m not asking for permission, Abbey. I want to wash my wife clean. That’s all there is to it.”

“But…” she trails off, her eyes darting past me, towards the door.

Is she seriously thinking about running? Surely we’re past that bullshit now.

“But what?” I growl, and her caramel eyes snap back to mine.

“Well, for one… I’m still bleeding.” She gestures between her legs, and I shrug.

“I’m not afraid of blood, Angel.”

She shoots me a ‘really’ look, brows raised, eyes glaring at me like I’m talking shit.

“It’s menstrual blood. Or whatever you call it when you’ve pushed a baby out of your hooha.”

I smirk. “It’s a pussy, Angel. I thought we’d already been over that.”

She rolls her eyes. “Not when we are talking about childbirth, it’s not.”

Shit. I guess she has a point.

“Fine. But I’m not afraid of menstrual or post-birth blood either. So get naked and get your arse in the shower.”

As my hands move to my belt, her eyes follow, watching quietly as I start stripping down.

She doesn’t make a move to do as I’ve demanded, and I wonder how far I can push her, given her fragile state.

“Why are you still dressed?” I ask, tugging down my fly.

“I want to wash myself.”

“Not happening. But how about you tell me why, all of a sudden, you don’t want me in the shower with you?”

She sighs dramatically, throwing her arms up, turning around on the spot like she’s searching for an escape route.

She won’t find one. There’s only one way in and out of this shitty little bungalow, and she knows it.

“Angel. Talk to me,” I demand, and she whirls around, fire blazing in those big doe eyes.

“My body isn’t the same, okay?” she snaps, her chin jutting as her voice trembles with frustration.

“Okay. I figured as much, Angel. You gave birth a week ago. You were thirty weeks pregnant. I might look it, but I’m not an idiot.

I know your body’s gonna need time.” I take a step towards her, reaching down to hook my finger with hers.

“And for the record, I don’t give a fuck if you’ve got stretch marks, or fucking love handles, or a jelly belly. None of that matters to me.”

Her brows shoot up at that comment.

“Yeah, I know about the jelly belly, Angel. And you know what? I don’t fucking care about anything but you .

Because I fucking love you. Every messy, scarred, changed inch of you.

They’re battle scars. Wear them with pride.

They’re a part of you, and I love every single fucking piece of you. You’re perfect to me.”

Her lip starts to tremble as her eyes fill with tears.

“You shouldn’t. I’m a horrible person. ”

I’m shaking my head before she even finishes her sentence, and I step up close, feeling the heat coming off her body.

“No, you’re not.” I run my hands down her arms, lacing our fingers together. “Now get naked. We need to get you clean, and get you some new clothes.”

She nods, staring up at me like she’s trying to work something out in her head. There’s a long beat where I think she’s going to say something, but nothing comes. Instead, she steps back, bends down, and starts unlacing her boots.

While she strips, I shoot Jols a message to arrange some new clothes for Abbey, and when she’s finally naked, I gather up the blood-soaked leathers and leave everything but her panties out on the porch for Jols to burn.

Taking Abbey’s hand as I pass, I lead her into the bathroom, and she takes over, reaching into the shower and flicking the water on, holding her hand under the stream until she gets the temperature right.

I don’t take my eyes off her as I peel off my jeans and follow her into the tight space. Moving up behind her, I press my bare chest to her bare back, and fuuuck, she melts right into me despite her earlier insecurities.

Since there’s hardly any room, I leave her to it, watching over her shoulder as she drenches her face and hair, working in the soap and shampoo to rinse away the blood.

She scrubs what’s left off her hands, which is when I catch sight of grazes on her knuckles.

They are small, but angry, and must fucking hurt, obviously left behind from those brutal metal weapons she wore.

Fuck. I honestly never thought she had it in her.

Never imagined she’d look at a table full of weapons and bypass the knife, and even the gun .

A gun is too quick, though. And loud. It would’ve alerted me sooner.

A knife would have been a better option. Less effort needed to do damage.

But no… she didn’t go for the easy kill. She chose the weapon that requires maximum effort. All the strength, and all the energy.

You only choose that weapon over the others when you have rage to get out of your system.

And fuck, I watched her get it all out.

My heart aches for her.

For the pain she’s drowning in. The trauma she’s barely surviving.

I’d take every ounce of it if I could. I’d fucking bleed for her. Burn for her. I’d fucking die for her.

When she’s done scrubbing her skin, she leans back against me again, and I slide my hands around her waist, tugging her close, my palms flat against her stomach.

Just like that first night when I took her from her parents, I can feel her ribs again.

I loved seeing her pregnant. Even though Bobbi wasn’t mine, I imagined she was. That my Angel was swollen with my baby inside her.

Now there’s no bump. Just soft skin and prominent ribs.

My gaze drops down her front, but fuck, I can’t see anything past her huge tits.

Fucking hell. I knew they were bigger than before, but this? I had no fucking idea.

“Angel,” I rasp into her hair, unable to tear my eyes away from the way the water cascades over her full, heavy tits, trickling over her swollen nipples, dark and peaked and… fuck… fuck… is that…

“Yeah?” Her voice cuts through my aroused fucking thoughts, my cock already hard, pressed into the small of her back.

Fuck, why does she have to be so short? If she were taller, my cock would be in just the right place to… shit. No. Fucking stop. She can’t have sex so soon after giving birth, you fucking pervert!

Abbey shifts a little, turning her head to the side, waiting for me to say something.

Fuck. Just say it. Just tell her what I’m seeing, for fuck’s sake!

When the hell did I become such a chickenshit?

“Don’t freak out, okay,” I mutter against her ear, and she stiffens, so I quickly finish. “I think… your tits are leaking.”

She gasps, her hands flying up to cover each nipple, and fuck, doesn’t she know how hot that is to see her touch them?

“Shit, I’m sorry,” she whimpers in embarrassment. “I’m gonna need, like ten minutes to… you know.”

She tries to shift away, but I hold her firmly against me, which is when I guess she realises my hard cock is digging into her back, because she stiffens again, and fuck, all that does is press harder against it.

“Angel, you don’t need to apologise. I’m not freaked out by it. I only said something because I knew you would be. The last thing I ever want is for you to feel embarrassed by your body.” I nip at her ear. “Your fucking stunning body.”

“Too late,” she whispers, her voice strangled, like she’s wishing the earth would open up and swallow her.

“Beautiful,” I breathe against her ear. “I don’t ever want you to be embarrassed in front of me. I’m your husband. I’m here. For good. To worship the ground you walk on. To worship every fucking inch of you.”

She whimpers as I glide my hands up, wrapping them around her wrists and slowly tugging her hands free, releasing her tits from her grip.

She resists at first, but the moment I draw her lobe between my lips and gently suck, she surrenders, dropping her hands to her sides as she stares down at her full, aching rack under the spray of water.

“Look how fucking beautiful they are.” I breathe into her neck, my gaze locked on her nipples as they pebble even tighter, knowing I’m watching.

“They kinda hurt,” she admits, and fuck, I bet they do.

The skin is stretched so tight. Almost like they are engorged.

And I guess they are. Engorged with milk.

Slowly, I graze my fingers back up her ribs, tracing the curve beneath each tit, pressing my thumbs to the soft swollen flesh, testing my Angel to see if she’ll pull away, or ask me to stop.

But she doesn’t, so I take the risk, and gently cup them.

A sharp hiss falls from her lips, and I freeze, but don’t remove my hands.

“Does that hurt?” I ask, and she nods, but then shakes her head.

“I don’t know.”

I can’t help but grin to myself. I fucking love how honest she is with me, even when she doesn’t want to be. It’s one of the things I’ve noticed about Abbey.

For the most part, she doesn’t lie.

She holds back, yeah. Keeps pieces to herself. But if you ask for the truth, she gives it .

Which is why her actions tonight shook the hell out of me.

She said she was going to use the bathroom, but instead, snuck into the dungeon and beat Wendy nearly to death.

I keep turning it over in my head and can’t help but think she planned it.

It’s definitely something we’ll be talking about. But not now. Not tonight.

Tonight, I need to remind her that she’s loved, because when the guilt hits… when it really sets in, my love is all she’s gonna have to grasp onto.

With each of her swollen tits in my hands, I lift them slightly, surprised by how heavy they are. We both watch as more white milk beads at the slit of her nipple, mixing with the water as it flows down her body.

“Angel,” I whisper. “Can I do it for you?”

I expect her to stiffen. Maybe call me a pervert. But instead, my wife surprises me.

“Only if it’s something you want to do.”

Fuuuck. Doesn’t she feel my rock hard cock grinding into her back?

Yeah, I fucking want it.

“Of course I do. I’d do anything to make you feel better.”

She nods against my lips as I nip at her neck, and fuck, my kiss has her arching, pushing her chest forward with need.

She’s turned on too.

Fuck, is this a kink? Swollen, engorged, milk-leaking tits?

If it’s not, then it fucking is now. And later, I’m abso-fucking-lutely looking that shit up online.

But for now, my Angel has given me the green light, and I’m not about to fuck it up .

“How do I…” I trail off, realising I’ve got no fucking clue what I’m doing.

I’ve never done this before. Never even thought about it before tonight.

How the fuck do you express milk from a woman’s tits?

Taking the lead, Abbey places her hand over mine to guide me. Even with the size difference of our hands, it still works, and her fingers settle over mine, putting them in place. My thumb on one side and fingers on the other.

Then slowly, she shows me.

Starting from the outside, we gently squeeze the plump flesh, working in towards her nipple.

And fuuuck… milk doesn’t just bead… it squirts from her.

My dick jerks, and she groans.

“Shit, am I hurting you?”

Fuck… is this wrong?

She shakes her head. “The let-down feeling… it’s relieving.”

Again, she guides our hands, repeating the motion, getting the same result.

Another soft squirt, and another sigh from her lips.

After a few tries, she drops her hand, leaving me to it, and fuck me… as horny as this is making me, it’s got nothing on how good it feels to help her like this.

There’s nothing hotter than easing her pain with my own hands.

After a few minutes of attention on one side, I switch to the other, careful not to grind my cock into her back again, even though every groan from her has me on edge.

Never in a million years did I think I’d be doing this. Helping my wife express milk from her tits.

Some might think it’s fucked up. Others would probably be just as turned on as I am.

But to me, there’s nothing vulgar about it. This isn’t about a baby, even though that’s technically why it’s happening. But right now, it’s about my wife. The woman I love. The woman who’s been through hell, suffering in pain both physically and emotionally.

I’ll do whatever the fuck I can to get her through this for as long as it takes, until hopefully, one day, the physical pain fades, and the emotional scars start to heal. Even if it’s just small stolen moments of peace.

After a while of expressing the milk, the tightness on Abbey’s tits eases, so I stop and gently turn her in my arms.

Her eyes meet mine, tired and glassy, but shining with something like gratitude as she looks up at me. I cup her cheek, staring into her stunning caramel orbs that still aren’t as bright as they used to be.

“I love you, Abbey. Nothing will change that, okay?”

Her lips kick up a fraction, but not enough that you’d call it a smile.

“Not even when I point a gun at you?”

I smirk. “Especially not then. Just remember if you do that again, I’ll consider it foreplay.”

She lets out a soft, one-breathed laugh, like that’s all she can manage, yet fuck, at least it’s something.

“Was this foreplay?” she asks, and I know she means everything that’s happened since walking into this bungalow.

“If you’re ready for it to be, then yeah.”

“I can’t have sex yet,” she repeats what she said earlier, and I let out a sigh.

“I know. That’s not what I’m talking about.”

Frowning, she pulls back a little, and I’m not even mad, because it gives me a better look at her tits.

Fuck… would she let me kiss them? Suck on them?

“What are you talking about then?”

“You can still climax, right? That part of you still works?” I ask, and she frowns, her eyes dropping to my chest as she considers my words.

“I actually don’t know.”

“Well, if you’re game, we could try and find out.”

“I still have a… graze down there.”

I cringe because, fuck that sounds brutal.

“Is it on your clit?” I ask, having no fucking clue about that stuff, and she shakes her head.

“No… It’s right… inside.”

Fucking hell. If any bloke thinks he is the more superior sex, then he needs his head checked.

A woman can grow a life inside her and then push it out through a tight channel and survive all the pain and trauma that comes with it. As far as I’m concerned, women are the strongest species on this damn planet.

“I only need to touch the outside, Angel. Your sensitive little bean.” I smirk, and her cheeks flush red.

“I’m bleeding.”

“Nothing wrong with blood. That’s actually a kink well known in motorcycle clubs. Ever see any of my brothers wearing a red wings patch on their cut?”

Her brows shoot up. “You’re not serious?”

“Deadly, Angel. But tonight, given everything, I’ll just use my fingers. How’s that sound?”