Page 27 of Deliria

It’s haunting, stern, and yet I find it reassuring.

There’s a peace in the hostility, a reassurance. I know these walls have stood for hundreds of years, and they’ll be standing long after I’m gone. Long after my children are born and have died.

It’s a monument. A cenotaph. A testament to the will and determination of my ancestors. It’s proof that we will always prosper, we will always succeed.

It may be bleak now, it may feel like these very walls are caving in on us, but soon, soon this entire situation will resolve itself. The pressures will ease and we can all relax in the knowledge that our good name has not been besmirched. That our good name will continue on.

The door creaks just a little as I open it. I make a mental note to tell the staff to oil the damned hinges. I don’t need my arrival to be announced in any way that might set my wife off again.

As I step inside, I can hear that same, haunting silence. Like the house is bracing itself for something.

She’s asleep. Completely unconscious.

The sheets have been placed back over her, but I can see they’re ruffled, not neatly done.

Her hair is now sprawled out instead of carefully placed on the pillows.

I let out a sigh, reminding myself that our dear doctor does his best despite his obvious lack of manners and good breeding.

I unbutton my shirt, kick my shoes off then unbuckle my belt.

She looks so beautiful right now. So peaceful, that it makes my chest ache.

I know I shouldn’t. I know this moment here is not for her, but I deserve a little something considering all I’m sacrificing, considering all I’m giving up. I used to live the high life, I could fuck any woman I wanted. I drank, I partied, Ifuckinglived.

And look at me now. Just look at me.

I let out a snarl, feeling that frustration rising.

Being with Scarlett was meant to be the dream. It was meant to be everything, and it’s turned into an absolute nightmare.

As I approach the bed, I can see the rise and fall of her chest, the way her lashes cast shadows on her cheeks. The covers have slipped enough to reveal the curve of her shoulder, the smooth expanse of her perfect skin. I reach out, my fingers tracing the line of her collarbone.

She shifts slightly, a soft sigh escaping her lips, but she doesn’t wake. No, the sedative is far too strong for that.

Carefully, I pull back the covers, revealing her incredible body inch by inch. The silk nightie has shifted right up, leaving those inviting legs of hers completely exposed.

I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry. I know every curve of her body. I know the way she tastes, the way she feels beneath my hands. And yet, even now, every time I look at her, it’s like the first time all over again.

I slide into the bed beside her, the mattress dipping slightly under my weight. Her skin is so warm, so soft. I brush my thumb over her lips, and they part slightly, her breath hitching in herthroat as if she too knows what’s about to happen. As if she knows how much her husband wants her in this moment.

I can feel her heartbeat, steady and strong beneath my fingertips. I want to kiss her, to taste her, to lose myself in her. But I don’t. Not yet. I technically have all night to savour this, to savour her.

Instead, I let my hand drift down, tracing the line of her jaw, the curve of her neck. I can feel her pulse quicken, her body responding to my touch despite the heavy medication. I let my fingers linger on her collarbone, then trail them down, over the swell of her breast.

She arches into my touch, seeking more while a soft moan escapes her lips.

Yeah, the little slut wants this. She wants me.

I can’t wait any longer. I need to feel her, to be inside her. To claim her the only way I really can now.

I move my hand to ease her legs apart enough and she’s already doing it, already giving me all the signs that she’s as desperate for this as I am.

When I push into her body, she’s warm. Wet. So fucking welcoming.

I swear my eyes roll back with the pure ecstasy of that feeling.

My sweet little wife.

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