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LOVE LIES

I open the medicine cabinet, my eyes fixed on that yellow medicine bottle. Dreading taking the pill that should help with the thoughts. My mother tells me I shouldn't feel like this—that I'm blessed, that I am ungrateful. Rey is perfect, handsome, and successful. And I’m a beautiful, young, pregnant wife. But no one talks about how drastic your life changes, how your body changes as the days progress, how you're the only one making the sacrifices. While Rey is out there succeeding, I’m here, trapped. My hand trembles as I try to rest it on my round stomach, but it doesn’t connect. The "aww" moment. The joy of motherhood. And for that, I believe I’m broken. But I don’t let anyone know. As far as everyone thinks, I’m happy to be carrying this baby—extremely happy—but my nerves and overall temperament scream otherwise.

Closing the cabinet, I stare at myself in the mirror. My skin has broken out due to the hormones, and there are bags under my eyes from the sleepless nights. Sleeping while carrying a giant ball in your belly is impossible. Pregnancy has taken everything out of me, and I’m not sure if I’m cut out for this. I mean, it wasn’t like I intended to be pregnant, but I was the 1% of birth control failures. Who would’ve known that antibiotics could mess everything up? I was at the height of my career as Miss Puerto Clara, almost making it to Ms. Worldwide. Rey and I had just gotten back from our honeymoon—sex was amazing, and I was thriving. Then it all changed. Two lines on a plastic stick confirmed my sickness wasn’t food poisoning after all. But the look of happiness on his face made my emotions relax.

"There’s plenty of successful mothers out there, and I’m sure you’ll be one of them," he repeated over and over every time I voiced my concerns.

The sickness became unbearable. I was fainting and barely able to do anything but sleep and puke. After countless doctor’s appointments and ER visits, I was finally given an answer. Instead of the usual diagnosis anxiety and normal pregnancy symptoms. I was tired of hearing it’s normal, it will go away. Because that’s the other issue with being a woman seeking medical help is nearly impossible to get straight answers. But learning that I have hyperemesis gravidarum changed my life. Who would’ve known being so sick all the time makes it hard to maintain a successful career or a healthy mindset?

"Empty," the words whisper in my head. "No good."

They continue their chant as I comb my fingers through my soft, shoulder-length waves. Practicing my smile—it’s almost time for Rey to come home, and work was stressful enough. I needed to be his safe space, his home.

I’ve been watching Facetube videos on how to be the best wife I can for him. After all, I love him. I want him to be proud. He’s forty and so happy about the baby and the idea of me being barefoot and pregnant. I need to be happy.

The sound of my front door opening pulls me out of my trance, and a smile spreads slowly across my face. I push my chestnut waves behind my ear, just like he likes it. Makes me look innocent, like something for him to ruin.

"Mi Reina," he chimes from downstairs. Given the closeness of his voice, I know he’s waiting for me by the stairs. Rey is slightly older than me and used to be my professor. Call it daddy issues, but the day he ordered me to get on my knees, I was his. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. I just wish it would’ve been us alone for a moment longer. But I try to fulfill my duties to make my husband happy. That’s what makes me a good wife—putting my family’s needs above mine.

"Amor," I squeal as I walk down the hall. "How was work?" Standing beside the step, he looks up at me and I see nothing but adoration and need. His salt-and-pepper hair laid messily as he removed his blue tie—the one I picked out for his board meeting. Rey is now the director of Puerto Clara University, and that's where we met. I was in his psychology class, and one thing led to another.

"Stressful with all the new policies, but this weekend we get to move to our dream home."

"Ahh, yes. Big white Victorian house with fields, and in the middle of nowhere where you can chase me and fuck me," I say, as I walk down the stairs, letting my pink silk nightgown ride up my thighs. Giving him what he needs to decompress and what I need to still feel like myself, because sex is where we are equal. His need matches my own.

"You look beautiful as always," my husband whispers as he begins to unbutton his shirt. "How was your day?"

I make it to the last step, wrapping my arms around his neck and smiling. So handsome, his dark skin complimenting my lighter brown. His hazel eyes light up as he offers me a small smile, ushering me to answer.

"It was okay, more baby shopping and a little less sick." I lie, because it was easier than voicing what's in my head. Rey's large hand rests on my ass.

"Good, good," he replies as he pulls me in for a kiss. His free hand cups the side of my face as his tongue swipes my lips, demanding access, and I open to let him. Groaning into my mouth, his hand on my ass squeezes it. "I need you," I whisper into his lips, pulling away to help him remove his pants. This is what I want him to remember, what I need to remember—that I can still be sexy. That he still wants me because I want him. My hands move quickly to remove his cock from his pants as he turns me to bend over the stairs. This is not the slow lovemaking he's been doing. This is raw and animalistic. And I'm desperate. My swollen cunt waits for him as he thrusts into me.

"Fuck," he moans. "Your pussy feels like heaven. It was amazing before, but now..." He pumps slowly before pulling back out, I'm sure to look as my cunt greedily sucks him in. "But now," he moans again, "it's magnificent."

Rey pumps slowly into me, causing my walls to flutter and the warmth to pool at my core. One hand fists my hair as he pulls me up towards him, completely forgetting I'm pregnant, but I welcome the discomfort as he bends to suck on my neck.

"So good," I moan, as my free hand moves over my swollen breast. He pulls them free from the satin fabric. Two fingers twirl and spin my nipple, and once again, my walls spasm, choking his cock. "I'm about to cum."

"Shh... not yet," he groans, as he pulls out of me and pushes back in. Over and over again, he brings me to the edge until my wetness leaks down my legs. Until I'm begging for sweet release.

"Please... Sir," I beg. "Please."

"Que Rica, tan bella cuando ruegas," he moans as he grabs a hold of my widened hips and fucks me so hard that I shatter. "Oh, oh," I moan, causing him to still as his cock finishes spilling inside me.

"Fuck, I was too rough," he says immediately, pulling out and helping me up from the stairs. Somehow, we ended up in doggy position.

"No, I'm okay," I say.

The thick brows on his face furrow as his hand cups my chin. "No, I was too rough. Mi Reina, I'm sorry."

No, I scream inside my head. This is what I needed... to feel wanted, not like some fragile porcelain glass.

"I'm fine, amor, I promise."

"You sure?"

I shake my head. "It was amazing and exactly what I needed." Patting him on the chest, I walk past him and head towards the downstairs bathroom. My stomach churns from the smell of his cologne and all the rocking. Reminding me of my prison...