The Woman Trapped in a Sexless Marriage - Chapter 25: Chapter 25
You are reading The Woman Trapped in a Sexless Marriage, Chapter 25: Chapter 25. Read more chapters of The Woman Trapped in a Sexless Marriage.
"Come on, let's get you to bed."
I could barely lift myself from the couch. Before I could protest, Ian scooped me into his arms like I weighed nothing, carrying me to the bedroom. For a brief, dizzying moment, it felt like we were newlyweds again—soft sheets, whispered promises, the warmth of his body against mine.
"From now on, this is our room," he murmured, setting me down gently.
"Okay... thank you, Ian. I just need to rest."
"Mm. I'll clean up the living room first."
The second the door clicked shut, exhaustion pulled me under. I sank into the mattress—softer than anything I'd ever slept on—and drifted into the deepest sleep of my life.
Then, sensation dragged me back.
A sharp, sweet ache. A slow, torturous pleasure. My eyes flew open, the alcohol in my veins evaporating in an instant.
"Ah—! Ian, what—? Get off me!"
"Sweetheart, didn't I just tell you?" His voice was a dark purr, sending a jolt of fear straight to my chest. "Our room."
The pain came from his teeth, his fingers, the possessive way he marked my skin. The pleasure? That was worse—his touch igniting something shameful inside me. Trapped beneath him, I felt like prey, tears spilling helplessly.
"Vivian, don't cry." His thumb brushed my cheek, so tender it nearly broke me. "I'll take care of you. Just relax, okay?"
A sliver of sanity fought through the haze. "No. I don't want this. Please, Ian—let me go."
"You're too damn beautiful," he groaned, pulling back just enough to let me breathe. "I'll stop if you really mean it. But..." His hand guided mine lower, and I recoiled—yet the memory of his heat burned into my palm.
"God— it's... how is it still so big?" Even soft, the sheer size terrified me.
"You lit the match, darling." His lips grazed my ear, sending a shudder down my spine. "Don't I deserve a little help putting out the fire?"
My resolve crumbled.
"I... I don't know what to do. Just—not inside me. Anything else."
"Anything?" His grin was wicked. "Then I'll just... rub it here. That okay?"
"You swear you won't push in?"
"Cross my heart." His fingers traced teasing circles, dragging a whimper from my throat. "See? Feels good, doesn't it?"
Every slow stroke was torture—pleasure coiling tighter, my body betraying me with every gasp.
"Ian... slower. I can't—I can't think..." My muscles clenched, my heartbeat wild. The world narrowed to his touch, his voice, the unbearable need building inside me.
"Your body doesn't lie, sweetheart." His breath hitched as he pressed closer, so close. "Look how ready you are for me. Don't you want it?"
I could barely lift myself from the couch. Before I could protest, Ian scooped me into his arms like I weighed nothing, carrying me to the bedroom. For a brief, dizzying moment, it felt like we were newlyweds again—soft sheets, whispered promises, the warmth of his body against mine.
"From now on, this is our room," he murmured, setting me down gently.
"Okay... thank you, Ian. I just need to rest."
"Mm. I'll clean up the living room first."
The second the door clicked shut, exhaustion pulled me under. I sank into the mattress—softer than anything I'd ever slept on—and drifted into the deepest sleep of my life.
Then, sensation dragged me back.
A sharp, sweet ache. A slow, torturous pleasure. My eyes flew open, the alcohol in my veins evaporating in an instant.
"Ah—! Ian, what—? Get off me!"
"Sweetheart, didn't I just tell you?" His voice was a dark purr, sending a jolt of fear straight to my chest. "Our room."
The pain came from his teeth, his fingers, the possessive way he marked my skin. The pleasure? That was worse—his touch igniting something shameful inside me. Trapped beneath him, I felt like prey, tears spilling helplessly.
"Vivian, don't cry." His thumb brushed my cheek, so tender it nearly broke me. "I'll take care of you. Just relax, okay?"
A sliver of sanity fought through the haze. "No. I don't want this. Please, Ian—let me go."
"You're too damn beautiful," he groaned, pulling back just enough to let me breathe. "I'll stop if you really mean it. But..." His hand guided mine lower, and I recoiled—yet the memory of his heat burned into my palm.
"God— it's... how is it still so big?" Even soft, the sheer size terrified me.
"You lit the match, darling." His lips grazed my ear, sending a shudder down my spine. "Don't I deserve a little help putting out the fire?"
My resolve crumbled.
"I... I don't know what to do. Just—not inside me. Anything else."
"Anything?" His grin was wicked. "Then I'll just... rub it here. That okay?"
"You swear you won't push in?"
"Cross my heart." His fingers traced teasing circles, dragging a whimper from my throat. "See? Feels good, doesn't it?"
Every slow stroke was torture—pleasure coiling tighter, my body betraying me with every gasp.
"Ian... slower. I can't—I can't think..." My muscles clenched, my heartbeat wild. The world narrowed to his touch, his voice, the unbearable need building inside me.
"Your body doesn't lie, sweetheart." His breath hitched as he pressed closer, so close. "Look how ready you are for me. Don't you want it?"
End of The Woman Trapped in a Sexless Marriage Chapter 25. Continue reading Chapter 26 or return to The Woman Trapped in a Sexless Marriage book page.