Page 25

F uck.

I've never felt so damn good in my life.

For the first time, my muscles were lax. The sensation of my body wanting to move was gone. Every inch of me felt heavy, weighted with satisfaction. My heartbeat pulsed through my veins with a languid rhythm I'd never known before. Nothing like Hellbound where I'd beat my toys for hours with my bat, the adrenaline and need pushing me on and on, always chasing something I couldn't reach. With my toys, I'd always felt wired after. Restless. Unsatisfied. But with her, this was different.

The scent of sex and her lingered on my skin. All I wanted was to stay here with her. Stretching on Oakley's broken bed, I made a mental note to buy her a better bed, slightly bigger too. With all the things I had planned for her, I would need the room.

Maybe a headboard too.

The hiss of running water spilled from the en suite. Oakley had said she needed to freshen up and have some 'me time.' Not happening. She wasn't about to wash my scent off her. I would just keep putting it back on her. I adjusted my black surgical mask, making sure it was secure against my face before I went after her.

My limbs fought me as I pushed off the mattress, muscles heavy with satisfaction. The mask shifted slightly as I stood. A pulse shot through me at the image in my mind—Oakley's skin glistening under water, droplets sliding down her curves.

Steam leaked beneath the bathroom door, beckoning me closer. I pushed it open hard enough to rattle the hinges. Three long strides brought me to the tub.

Through the thin shower curtain, her silhouette was a revelation—a landscape of shadows against the fabric. The generous swell of her hips, the fullness of her breasts, the gentle rise of her stomach visible even through the barrier between us. Blood rushed south as I watched her movements, slow and sensual as she washed herself, unaware of my presence.

I grabbed the floral curtain and yanked hard, rings screeching against the metal rod as fabric tore aside. Moist air wrapped around my face, thick as breath, laced with soap, shampoo, and beneath it all, her essence. Water thundered against porcelain, echoing off tile walls, her form now in full view through the vapor between us.

She screamed, yanking the shower curtain to shield her body, water droplets scattering in the humid air.

I ripped the curtain from her desperate grip, her curves jolted at the sudden motion.

She stood in the haze, resembling a Greek fucking goddess. She stood like temptation incarnate, steam-glossed and still—hips aching to be gripped, flesh rising and falling in reverent waves.

She thinks she's undesirable. And I'm here, falling apart over how beautiful she was just breathing.

Her hair stuck to her skin, every tiny detail on display just for me. The places where my grip sank in, the way she yielded—it was like her body had been made to remember me. Never in my life would I ever understand why she hated the way she looked. She was my favorite view.

"Y-You're getting soaked." Her shrill, high voice matched the widening of her eyes. My eyes deliberately wandered down her body, taking in every curve, every goosebump rising on her skin.

My hand reached between her legs, feeling the insistent throb of need radiating from her center. Heat radiated against my palm before I even made contact. I ensnared her gaze, holding her prisoner as my hand searched, slow and certain, fingers exploring with deliberate pressure. "So are you."

Color surged up her neck as she froze, held captive by the gravity between us.

I stroked my hand over her center, my middle finger parting her swollen folds, gliding through the slick evidence of her arousal. Looking down at her, my stare pinned her where she stood as I pushed one finger deliberately inside her, feeling each ridge and texture of her inner walls. The sensation of her legs buckling as if the floor beneath her were dissolving shot up my arms as a light moan escaped her. The stream hit her face, droplets scattering like glass across her flushed skin. Droplets mapped her features as she panted, her chest rising and falling rapidly. "Tell me how it feels." Her mouth formed a perfect oval, pupils dilating until her eyes were nearly black, but no sound emerged. Just suspended silence, her body's reaction saying everything her voice couldn't.

"I-I—" Adding another finger, her head dropped back against the shower wall as she opened up for me. I pumped into her slowly, knuckles dragging through the heat I'd coaxed open. I grasped her breast in my other hand. I was rock hard at the sight of her like this, all for me.

"You're supposed to be teaching me." I stepped into the shower, my body blocking most of the water as I pressed my forehead to hers. I kept pushing, my hand moving in sync with her unraveling, making me harder with each movement. That tempting mouth of hers formed a perfect circle, heavy pants escaping as I moved faster, curling deeper with intent. "I won't learn unless you tell me."

Still nothing but desperate breaths escaped her lips. I thrust my fingers deeper before pausing.

"Where are my fingers, Oakley?" The words were a murmured demand, an answer I would coax from her. She closed around me tighter with every push, like her body knew exactly who I was. I added my thumb, rubbing over her clit in slow circles. Her knees buckled slightly, a deep moan escaping from her chest as she shivered in place. "Teach me."

Her mouth stayed in that perfect O shape, unable to form words as pleasure built within her. Right as her breathing quickened and her inner walls began to pulse, I dragged my hand back, every inch of retreat carving need into her face. She whimpered at the loss, her hips instinctively chasing my hand, desperate for the release I'd denied her.

"Not so fast," I murmured, watching her reaction as frustration replaced the bliss on her face. Her eyes pleaded with me, but I simply shook my head. "You're not teaching me like I asked."

Water traced her, each drop magnifying the tremor as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her thighs pressed together seeking friction. Water streamed down as I stepped under the shower spray directly in front of her.

"Since you won't teach me," I said, my voice dropping an octave lower as I wrapped my fist around my length, "I'm going to teach you instead." The pressure in my cock spiked, tension building beneath my grip as I glistened for her, already leaking. Her stare clung to me, wide and hungry, drinking in every movement like gospel as her expression shifted from frustrated need to complete fascination, her attention never wavering.

She bit down on her lip, mouth twitching open like she couldn't hold in the want. My mind filled with images of that perfect mouth wrapped around my shaft. "Get on your knees," I commanded. She paused, and I waited to see if she showed any of her usual signs of distress, but she didn't. Instead, she dropped to her knees before me, and fuck me what a view. Perfect breasts, angelic eyes, full hips, parted thighs—an altar made of flesh. Worship waiting.

Oakley's hand reached for me, hesitant at first. I held my breath as her delicate fingers wrapped around my hardness, barely meeting around the girth. The first contact of her skin against mine sent a jolt through my body. I needed more.

The wall pressed against my spine as I threaded my fingers through her soaked strands. The cool tiles behind me grounded me as her lips kept moving, reverent and greedy—wordless worship. She looked up, gaze questioning, hungry. I nodded once.

Her mouth met mine like fire to steel. Nothing had prepared me for this sensation—not all my kills, not all my violence, not a single fucking moment of my life. Her tongue darted out, tasting, exploring, and my head slammed back against the shower wall with a dull thud, eyes squeezing shut as she took me deeper. This was completely new territory.

"Fuck," I growled, fingers tightening in her hair, my voice breaking with unfamiliar vulnerability. My legs nearly buckled beneath me. "Just like that."

Her mouth closed over me, lips sealing heat and reverence around my length. Her hand worked what wouldn't fit, creating a rhythm that had my hips jerking forward involuntarily. My spine arched away from the wall, then slammed back as she hollowed her cheeks, sucking harder.

The torrent against the tile mixed with the obscene melody of her mouth working me, creating a symphony that drowned out everything else. My vision narrowed to just her—those full lips stretched around me, those wet lashes flicked up, a gaze that fused like wire to flame. She glistened beneath the stream, her skin slick with want as she took me deeper, her determination evident in every movement.

"Watch me," I commanded, forcing my eyes to stay open.

She needed to see it—to understand her hold on me. The back of my head hit the tiles again as she took me deeper, my control fracturing with every flick of her tongue. My hands guided her movements now, teaching her what drove me to the edge, what made the muscles in my thighs tremble with restraint.

The taste of her still lingered on my tongue—her salt and sweetness mixing with the steam around us. My pulse thundered in my ears as pressure built at the base of my spine. Oakley on her knees, water streaming down her body as she used every part of herself to keep me there—the sight alone was almost enough to finish me.

She took me deeper still, her gaze watering as my length pushed into her throat. Rather than pull back, she pressed forward, taking more. The sensation of her swallowing around me shattered the last of my control.

"Fuck—Oakley—" I fisted her hair tighter, holding her in place as my body tensed. Her eyes locked with mine, wide and watering. That look was all it took.

"Touch your tits. Eyes on me." My voice was a raw command as I watched her obey. On command, her fingers pulled at her hard nipples, her glass-like gaze looking up at me, breathing heavily through her nose as I pumped my shaft into her mouth. My frame shuddered as warmth flooded her throat, wet, broken breaths filled the air between us, her pale face turning red from the lack of air I allowed her to have.

Fuck, she looked beautiful like this.

One last, bone-deep drive into her and my entire body seized, pulsing violently as my hot release flooded her throat. My vision blurred at the edges as my hips bucked involuntarily, muscles tensing and releasing in waves. Her throat convulsed around me, swallowing reflexively as she took everything I gave her. Dropping down onto my knee, I covered her mouth with my palm.

"Swallow." My eyes watched her throat bob as she followed my command. I exited the shower quickly, and she stood. Bending, I threw her over my shoulder. Both of us still slick from steam and sex, I carried her to her bedroom.

"W-What A-Are you doing?!" Dropping her on the bed, she gasped as her body bounced against the mattress, droplets of water glistening on her flushed skin.

I had to bend nearly in half just to look her in the eyes, her head barely reaching my chest. What she lacked in height, she made up for in abundance that spilled beneath me—her full breasts, the soft landscape of her stomach, the generous width of her hips.

I held her like restraint itself—unyielding and final, where her body tried to resist. "The bed—" I caught her halfway to rising, dragging her back down, my gaze devouring every inch of her.

"I'll buy you a new fucking bed." My voice was rough with desperate desire as my hands grabbed her, fingers digging into the dense curve of her hips, pulling her on top of me, straddling me. Every shift sending ripples across her body, her need bled into my skin.

"Did I say you could get up?" My hands seized her, fingers pressing into her softness until her skin bloomed with the shape of me as I kept her in place, pinning her above me. The sight of her spread open, vulnerable, and exposed made my shaft twitch, pressing to where I ached.

Mine.

The word burned through my mind, consuming every other thought. I stamped myself into her skin like a warning, territory claimed and marked.

The power of holding her there, of deciding when she could move, sent a dark satisfaction coursing through me. She was exactly where she belonged—under my control, over my body, trapped between my desire and my command.

I wanted her weight on my tongue, her need where I breathed. I began guiding her into place above my mouth.

"B-But I'm heavy." The insecurity in her voice about her lush body made fury bubble under my skin. "W-What if I suffocate you?"

What a fucking way to go. Smothered under those wicked curves I couldn't get enough of.

My hand came down hard on her with a sharp crack, leaving a red handprint on her ass. She yelped, her eyes widening.

"If anyone's going to kill me, I want it to be you." My grip locked around her, fingers digging into the yielding flesh of her thighs hard enough to leave crescent-shaped marks, dragging her closer. "Now. Sit ."

My hands sculpted up to her waist, digging into the hollow where she curved for me before claiming her and lifting her effortlessly. Her surprised gasp sent a current of satisfaction through me as I brought us both back down to the bed, her knees parted, her slick folds dripped surrender.

The sight of my large hands against her abundant flesh amplified the weight of her body above mine. I reveled in how my palms molded to her curves, the way her flesh yielded and then bounced back under my touch. She pressed against me, warm and solid, intoxicating, her generous curves hovering above me like the most perfect shelter.

"V—what are you doing—" Her voice trembled, eyes wide as I lay back, positioning myself beneath her. Shuffling my mask lower, I revealed my teeth, my breath, my hunger darting out to wet my lips. My strong hands gripped her hips, fingers sinking into the thick curve of her ass as I slammed her onto my tongue like she belonged there with enough force to make her cry out.

"Oh god!" The sound of her pleasure was intoxicating. My hands didn't leave her hips, holding her like I meant to stay on her skin as I forced her to ride my face.

This was now my sanctuary, nestled between her thighs, breathing in her essence. Her center hovered above my face, dripping—each drop a slow, glistening promise I felt before I tasted. She tasted like need—thick, warm, intoxicating in the back of my throat. When I licked her, I didn't just taste her—I consumed her. Let her coat my mouth. Let her soak my beard, my soul, my fucking sanity.

My tongue swept every fold, every place she thought unworthy—claimed with hunger before plunging deep inside her.

Her arousal painted across my mouth, slick and heady as I drowned in her rhythm, her body arched to meet me, instinct rising where thought fractured.

I watched her through hooded eyes, captivated by her every reaction – head thrown back, throat exposed, lips parted in silent screams as she played with herself. She teased her nipples, rolling them between trembling fingertips until they stood out hard and dark against the pale fullness of her chest.

A shudder rippled through her—not from fear, but from how desperately she clung to something. Control, maybe. Dignity. I watched it all dissolve in her eyes when I growled into her skin, "Don't be brave. Just break for me."

The canvas of her in ecstasy was a masterwork—her stomach contracting and releasing with each gasp, her weight shifting around my head, the sway of her form with each surrender.

I could stay here forever, savoring her, so full of hunger it throbbed in time with her breath. The pressure of her weight against my face was fucking addictive. Her thighs gripped my jaw with delicious pressure, soft flesh yielding against my stubbled cheeks, trembling with each pass of my tongue. I marked her where they tried to erase her. Left proof that she was more than surface—she was substance, the kind that bruises and blooms. "These hips were built to take me," I growled against her center, the vibration making her shudder. Sucking her clit between my lips, I flicked my tongue rapidly over the sensitive bud while gripping her harder, parting her completely.

"Don't–" Her words came in broken gasps, barely coherent as pleasure robbed her of speech. "Don't stop—please, V, don't—" The desperate fragment of command sent a surge of pride through me. All I did was take orders, I did that well. Especially when those orders meant driving her to the edge of sanity with my mouth.

"You ride my face like it's where you fucking live," I growled against her wetness, the vibration making her thighs clench harder against my head. Changing nothing of what I was doing, I doubled down, sucking harder, licking faster. Oakley became breathless, her hands crushing over her chest almost painful now as her hips moved faster against my tongue, grinding herself against my face with desperate abandon. She was so wet it sounded obscene, each rock of her hips spreading slick heat across my beard, her arousal painting me like evidence of worship.

I sank two digits into her, touching where she trembled for me, curling them upward to stroke that spot that made her entire body tremble. She clamped down on my hand like she didn't want to let go as I continued my relentless assault on her clit with my tongue. With my free hand, I reached up to replace one of hers, pinching her nipple harder than she dared, twisting slightly just to hear that catch in her breath.

"V—I—can't—" Her voice fractured between gasps. "Hold—please?—"

Fuck, I nearly unraveled hearing those words spill from her lips. Every nerve was electric beneath my skin, pressure building like a fuse ready to blow.

I drove deeper, worshipped harder, determined to shatter her. Spine bowing like a tensed bow, she crashed her hips into my mouth one final time.

The release devastated her—violent, merciless—she shattered like glass dropped from a rooftop, her walls clamped tight in rhythm around my fingers in violent pulses as she flooded my mouth. Eyes sealed shut, she bit down until her lip gave, crimson blooming where teeth met flesh. Her entire body convulsed with each wave that overtook her—thighs seizing around my head, stomach contracting in erratic spasms, hands clawing at whatever they could find. Even as the peak subsided, aftershocks rippled visibly beneath her skin, tiny muscle twitches betraying how thoroughly she'd come apart.

She had never looked so beautiful, so completely undone.

Aftershocks rippled through her as she quivered beneath my touch, but I wasn't done. I flipped her onto her back before she could recover, pulling my mask back in place and spreading her legs wide. Her eyes flew open, pupils blown with desire as I positioned myself between them.

"Not. Fucking. Done." I growled, guiding the head of my throbbing length through her slick arousal.

I thrust into her in one fluid motion, burying myself to the hilt. She bowed beneath me, throat ripped wide by a sound she couldn't hold. She yielded, all heat and pressure as I entered— tight, slick resistance that gave way in waves, the sensation of her walls stretching to accommodate me nearly unbearable in its perfection. The outline of my length pressed visibly against her abdomen, reaching all the way to her belly button.

"You take me like you were made for this," I growled, watching her gaze widen at both the words and sensation. I muffled her with my mask-covered mouth, swallowing her cries as I began to move, each stroke pounded deeper, claiming more. The wet slap of skin meeting skin filled the room with obscene music, her arousal making each thrust easier and more devastating than the last. Her nails raked down my back, leaving marks I would wear proudly, badges of what I'd earned from her surrender.

"Look at me," I commanded, hand locking her face in place with one hand, fingers pressing into the soft flesh of her jaw, forcing her eyes to meet mine. "I want to see exactly what I do to you." She met my stare—glassy, overwhelmed—her eyelids fluttering with each thrust but struggling to maintain the connection I demanded. Every muscle in her face betrayed her surrender as I drove into her like I needed to leave pieces behind. The wet slapping sound of skin against skin filled the room, a primal rhythm punctuated by the creak of the bed frame beneath us, mingling with our ragged breathing and her muffled moans that caught in her throat with each deep stroke.

She was the boundary I'd crossed and would never come back from. Every inch. Every sound she made. Every fucking thought in her head—it all belonged to me now.

I hooked her legs over my shoulders, the new angle allowing me to hit that spot inside her that made her eyes roll back. Her body folded beneath my towering frame, the height difference between us evident even as her warmth surrounded me. My thumbs traced the silvery lines webbed across her skin—evidence of every inch she'd ever survived, pressing into them, worshiping each mark with brutal pressure. "Every mark, every line—you made this body for me," I growled, following the delicate pathways with my fingertips. "Perfect. Fucking perfect." I pressed harder into the marks, claiming them as mine, territory I would defend against anyone who made her doubt their beauty.

Her little palms flattened against my chest, gripping desperately as I fucked her open, so fucking breakable. Her moans cracked like glass in the air, her body yielding to everything I gave her—and still, she begged for more. My beautiful, breakable girl.

"That's it, Oakley. Take all of me." Every muscle in my body coiled as I claimed her with abandon, my hands branding the spill of her hips and the crush of her curves, watching in fascination as her body gave, then rebounded like it wanted more with each powerful thrust. She was made of something real. Something that fought back when touched. I memorized every dip and swell with the weight of my palms. I sealed my touch into those valleys—those soft, perfect places only I got to touch.

Her walls began to clench around me, signaling her approaching climax. I reached between us, my thumb sweeping her swollen clit, circling it with just the right pressure. "Come for me again. Now."

Her nose flared, trying to breathe through her orgasm, through me, through everything. I clamped my palm over her mouth, cutting off her sound, her breath, everything but the desperate tension in her thighs and the way her body bucked helplessly beneath me. Her eyes went glassy with heat, not fear, pupils blown so wide the iris was merely a thin ring of color. I pressed deeper, harder. "Take it. Breathe through me. You don't get to come easy."

"Oh god—" she managed to gasp against my hand, words fragmented and desperate.

As if on command, she shattered beneath me, her entire body convulsing in violent surrender. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed through her, her inner walls contracting in merciless, milking pulses around my length. Her back arched off the bed, limbs failing her as control abandoned her completely. Incoherent sounds escaped where my hand didn't quite cover.

Her depths seized around me in savage rhythms, each pulse drawing me further into oblivion.

She shimmered in the dimness, sweat turned to stars, a constellation of diamonds capturing each quiver beneath. Salt bloomed across my tongue as I traced a path along her collarbone, savoring the aftershocks that chased my touch.

The symphony of her fractured breathing, punctuated by broken fragments of my name, dismantled the final vestiges of my restraint.

The sight of her coming undone pushed me over the edge, and with a final, brutal thrust, I buried myself deep inside her as I spilled into her in thick, possessive waves. My vision went white at the edges, blood roaring in my ears as every muscle in my body tensed and released in a rhythm as old as time.

Collapsing beside her, I gathered her trembling body to my chest, our sweat-slicked skin sliding together as we both fought to catch our breath.

I cradled her against my chest as she twitched beneath me, breath catching on each wave, her breath hitching. "You feel that?" I murmured into her hair. "That emptiness inside you? That ache? That's me now. You'll never be rid of me, Oakley. Not even when you try."

The taste of her lingered on my lips, my tongue, mixed with the salt of her sweat and tears of pleasure.

My fingers dragged slow, possessive lines across her overheated skin, mapping every trembling dip and curve like I owned it. She'd melted beneath my touch, but tension coiled beneath the surface—tight, sharp—every held breath betraying how badly she wanted to come undone. The tips of her ears had turned scarlet, a detail that caught my attention immediately.

"What?" I demanded, feeling her squirm slightly against my chest.

She bit her lower lip, gaze flickering everywhere but at me. "Do you have... um... fantasies?" The question tumbled out, followed immediately by visible regret. "Never mind. That was stupid. Forget I asked." She attempted to roll away.

I caught her, one hand pinning her shoulder against the mattress. "Fantasies?"

"You know, things people think about... during..." Her voice trailed into nothing, hands fluttering uselessly in the air.

"During sex?"

She groaned, pale skin turning a tantalizing red that made me want to fuck her again. Her breath hitched when she felt how hard I already was against her spine.

"Do you?" I stared at her, expression unchanged.

Her fingers twisted into nervous knots in the sheet, knuckles whitening. "I was just—I shouldn't have—" She suddenly grabbed the pillow and pulled it over her face.

I yanked it away, tossing it across the room. "Don't hide from me."

A crimson wave bloomed across her cheeks, spreading down her neck and chest like wildfire. "I have one," she whispered from behind her hands. "But it's so embarrassing."

"Tell me."

"It's when..." Her eyes darted everywhere but my face, pulse fluttering beneath my fingertips like a trapped bird. "Not, like, creepy-sleeping. Just...you know. The idea of waking up... kind of already there."

I stared at her, not blinking.

"I want... I want to be woken up... with you... inside me." Each word seemed to cost her, dragged from somewhere deep and private. "While I'm sleeping. Just... take me before I'm even awake." Her voice had dropped to such a whisper that her lips moved almost without sound.

"You want me to fuck you while you sleep." My voice remained neutral, analytical.

She squeezed her eyes shut, mortification radiating from her in palpable waves. "Oh my god, I can't believe I told you that."

"You want to wake up stuffed full of my cock, dripping before your eyes even open."

She hid behind her hands, but her thighs clenched like a confession. Shame couldn't disguise how fucking wet the thought made her. The sheets were damp beneath her thighs. She hated that I noticed. I loved that she couldn't hide it.

"You'll need to start sleeping on your stomach." I shifted her body slightly, demonstrating. "Or on your side. Back won't work. I'd have to wake you to position you."

"Kill me now," she mumbled into the mattress.

The image seared itself into my brain—Oakley unconscious, vulnerable, completely at my mercy as I claimed her in her most defenseless state. My cock stirred against her thigh.

"Good girl," I growled against her ear, biting down just hard enough to hear that sharp little gasp—my favorite sound in the goddamn world. "I'll make sure you never know when it's coming. Could be tonight. Could be next week." My fingers dug into her hip, feeling the give. "Don't ask me when. I want you nervous."

Her breathing quickened, pupils dilating as she processed my promise. The thought of being taken without warning had her pressing her thighs together, seeking friction she wouldn't find.

"Now sleep," I commanded, pulling her tighter against me. "Don't whimper if I collect."

She choked on her next breath, eyes wide before she forced them shut, a tremor running visibly through her body as she pretended to attempt sleep.

Oakley had fallen asleep shortly after, curled against my chest, her hair still damp from both the shower and our exertions, dreams of her confession no doubt filling her head.

She shifted slightly beneath me, her arm instinctively covering her belly like she didn't want me to see it. As if I hadn't just made her come so hard the gods shut up to watch. I gently moved her arm away, placing it at her side.

She was covered in a mountain of blankets I'd carefully arranged around her. I didn't want her to get cold, though my body heat alone could have kept her warm through winter.

I mapped invisible claims along her shoulder with slow, deliberate passes that only I could see. Not enough. I needed something more permanent, more visible. Something everyone would see.

Lowering my head, I engraved my teeth into where her neck bared itself for the bite, marking her deep enough they'd see it in daylight. "They'll all see. Every fucking one of them. I left my name on your skin," I whispered against the mark. To mark. To own. She stirred slightly but didn't wake, utterly abandoned to exhaustion. Good. Tomorrow she'd wear my signature. Everyone would see the ghost I'd left behind. The thought sent a current of dark pleasure through me as she unconsciously melted closer against me, seeking shelter in my chest even in sleep.

Her fragile exhales tickled my chest, each one a reminder that this fragile, perfect creature had surrendered herself to me completely.

Her soft breaths hit my chest, rhythmic proof she was alive, real, and mine.

Mine. I held onto that word, rolling it around in my mind. It wasn't gentle, wasn't careful. I didn't know how to be those things. But I knew ownership. I knew possession. Protectiveness came easier when it was about guarding something that belonged to me.

I stared at her face as she slept, relaxed in a way she never was awake. This was the closest thing to peace I'd ever felt—watching her exist, knowing she couldn't leave while she was unconscious.

The stupid movies she made me watch replayed in my head. Lovers gazing softly at each other, whispering sweet things I'd never say. Holding hands, kissing under streetlights in the rain. They felt fake. I didn't get it.

But one thing clicked into place. These people weren't just in love.

They were married.