Page 46 of Vintage

I cradled her face, her innocent eyes filled with pain as she gazed at me. A tear slipped down her cheek, and her lips trembled.

"Ro. I missed you. I missed you so much!"

That broke me. I missed her too—so damn much it felt like it was tearing me apart, leaving me questioning how I was still alive.

I captured her lips in a hungry kiss. Her soft touch was reminiscent of a feeling I once knew, yet everything felt so distant. My body seemed to reject her, and I loathed myself for it. I despised how my mind refused to let go. I wouldn’t allow the drugs to control me.

I forced myself to push through that involuntary rejection, pulling her beneath me, hovering over her but never letting go.

As my tongue explored the most intimate parts of her mouth, I heard her moan, a sound that died in my throat.

She pulled away, breathless, gazing at me with love and longing.

Her eyes held a longing, a heat that coursed through my body.

"My love," she breathed, giving me a gentle kiss. It was strange; my wife had never been one to retreat from me, yet now she was, her cheeks flushed and a shy smile gracing her lips.

Maybe it was the heady aroma of the incense Willow had left behind that altered my perception of my wife.

It had to be.

As she opened her silk robe, I slid the sleeves down her velvety skin, chucking the fabric in the corner. There she was, my gorgeous wife, enticing me in that sheer nightdress.

Though my hands were free, my legs were restrained, cuffed to the posts of the four-poster bed, limiting my movement.

I caressed her breasts over the fabric, squeezing her soft curves and teasing those hard tits, which drew a loud moan from her as her back arched in response.

She positioned her legs on either side of me, wide open and inviting.

I felt that something was amiss, and no matter how hard I tried to brush it aside, it lingered. My perception was so foggy that I struggled to hear what was happening around me or to form a clear picture of my surroundings.

"Please, Ro... Ah... Please," she sobbed, her toes catching the waistband of my loose-fitting pants and tugging them down my hips. I assisted her in removing that scanty dress, positioning myself at her entrance, thrusting deep in one swift motion.

Holding her down by her delicate little throat, I pounded, ravaging her like a beast. My breaths were filled with her name, intertwined with the waves of both agony and ecstasy that coursed through me.

"Fuck, baby... My little wife... You're taking me so good, Mrs. Rowan."

Thrust after thrust, she took me completely, her shouts piercing the air, ensuring that the bitch Willow knew exactly who really owned me. To whom I came undone.

Her pussy squeezed on my dick, and with a few more strokes and a little play on her clit, I pulled out, both of us coming together.

Sweat mixed with tears trickled down her face and body while her stomach painted in my cum.

I rolled on my back against the headboard, breathless, panting, and staring at her through the haze.

Little by little, my eyelids began to close. Yet, a shadowy figure of another woman entered my line of sight. She clutched something in her hand, and a chill of horror coursed through me.

My body was too weary and sore to respond, a feeling I had never known until I was forced to endure this with Willow. She kept me drugged every day, claiming it was necessary for me to act like a normal human, treating me like her toy, meant to dance to her tune.

"Don't..." I yelled, nearly begging.

The figure turned her head in my direction, but everything was too blurred to discern clearly. Could it be Willow...? She must have come to harm my Amery.

Whatever she wielded, she struck down on Amery's head, who lay there beside me, exposed and vulnerable.

"No... No... Please don’t hurt my wife... Amery... Amery... Run... Get away..." My tongue felt numb, and a haze enveloped my thoughts.

A tear escaped my eye as my eyelids fell shut. The pain in my chest grew sharper at the thought that I couldn’t save my wife... yet again.

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