50. Layne

Chapter fifty

Layne

“ M y soul’s yours Layne. It’s yours to love and cherish. Or it’s yours to destroy. Either way, I’m at your mercy. You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.” Wes smirks as he makes his way in front of me. “I’d just stalk you all over again, round and round we’d go.” I take the blade in my hand and hold it to his throat, stopping him from moving any further.

“I love you,” I whisper, my knife pressed to his throat. “But I’m so fucking angry. That the one thing we want is being ripped away from us. That it’s my body that’s failing us.”

Wes stares into my eyes, drinking in my rage. “Please, just let me touch you,” he begs, “I don’t care if we never have biological kids. But I can’t live my life never being able to touch you again. You’re my oxygen, Layne. I need you to breathe.” His tone has changed, the low, sultry voice he uses in bed. It makes my heart race and my blood warms for him.

Only him .

With my knife still at his throat, he steps toward me, blood appearing at the tip of the blade. Wes invades my space and, as he inches closer, the blade digs a little deeper. I find a strange comfort in knowing he would bleed for me. That he would spill his blood just to be closer to me.

“Don’t use that voice with me,” I groan.

His eyes darken, licking his lips.“What voice would that be Ma Petite Mort ?“ He says, leaning into me he drags his tongue up my throat.

My voice shakes, my core throbbing. “That one. Your deep, lust-filled voice that never fails to get me wet.”

He slides his hand down my stomach to the apex of my thighs. His moan vibrates off of my throat as he slips his fingers inside me. “Looks like it still does the job.”

The blade drops to the floor, and Wes hoists me into his arms. “I think you’ve forgotten, Ma Petite Mort . You’ve forgotten that while you own me, heart and soul. That I own yours too. If your heart breaks, it’s my heart breaking. If you stop breathing, I stop breathing. If you bleed, I bleed.”

I gasp, drawing in a breath to my already tightening chest. “Fix it, please.”

“What do I need to fix, baby?” His mouth covering mine, consuming me. Wes tries to take all the pain away with this kiss.

“Me. Fix me.” I pant as I grind against him.

Wes carries me over to our bed, his face buried in my neck, kissing his favorite spot just under my ear. He pulls back with a crooked grin on his face, “Now, my dearest wife, are you gonna let me eat your pussy? Your husband’s starving and the only taste I want on my tongue is you.”

“I don’t know if I should kiss you or stab you,” I let out an exasperated laugh.

With his lips pressed to mine, he breathes into me. “Kiss me. You’ve dropped your knife. You can stab me later. Somehow, I know I’ll do something to deserve it. ”

I kiss him. With all the pain and sadness, I pour every emotion into this kiss. I want his touch to heal my broken heart, my broken body. “All I want is you,” I whisper into his mouth, “I want every piece of you.”

You’ve got me, baby. I’m all yours.”

Wes tosses me on the bed. He pulls off my sweatpants and underwear, and I spread my thighs wide. I stopped bleeding a few days ago, so we won’t be ruining our bedding this time. Not that Wes would care. He growls as he sees how wet I am for him. “Fuck,” he groans, smothering my pussy with his face. His greedy tongue lapping up my arousal. Wes eats pussy like it’s an art and god dammit, he is a fucking master. My back arches off the bed as he sucks on my clit.

He eases two fingers inside me, inching me closer to orgasm. “That’s it, Layne. You’re going to take my cock like the good little slut you are.”

I whimper as he thrusts his fingers inside of me, finding the spot that has me writhing.

“You’re my pretty little slut, aren’t you, baby? You only get wet for your husband’s cock. Show me how much you love it. I want your pretty little pussy covering me in your cum.” Wes pulls his finger out, sliding them into his mouth, groaning as he tastes me on his tongue.

Wes stands back and undoes his boot and slacks. He rips his shirt over his head and climbs on top of me. Wes is a devil with a good heart. Soft yet strong. He’s unapologetic and honest. The exact type of man you want by your side when the world is falling apart. Right now, our world is falling apart, and I don’t know how to stop it from crumbling around us.

We find peace from the pain in each other’s arms. We always have. As he hovers above me, his eyes filled with love and desire, I know he’ll never leave me. Our bodies meld together, the weight of the world slipping away as we become lost in the passion that consumes us. With every touch, every kiss, Wes is determined to mend the broken pieces of my heart. With every thrust, I feel like he is trying to mend his shattered heart along with mine .

I know he is hurting. He lost a baby, too.

As he fucks me, waves of pleasure wash over me, erasing the anguish that had threatened to consume me. Our bodies move in perfect harmony, a dance of love and release. In this moment, there is only us, our connection deepening with every intimate touch.

Wes’s breath against my skin ignites a fire within me, his words battling with the voice inside my head.

“Every part of you is mine, Ma Petite Mort . I’ve fucking missed you,“ he groans, hiking my legs up around his waist as he drives into me. “So fucking much, baby.”

I surrender to him completely, knowing that he cherishes me and would do anything to protect me. With every thrust, he claims me, reminding me of the unbreakable bond between us.

The only way he would ever move on from me is if I died. He would have to move on. Right?

The intrusive thoughts hit me right as he whimpers, “Fuck, I’m coming, baby.” Wes’s body trembles as he comes deep inside me. For the first time in our relationship, I don’t finish. Wes pulls back, concern on his face. “Baby?”

“It’s fine. I’m fine.” I pull him back down and hold him to me. “I’m fine,” I whisper, kissing his hair. He stays inside me until I feel him soften. After a while, as we lie tangled in each other’s arms, his breathing deepens and I look down at his face and notice he’s fallen asleep.

The only way to force him to move on is if I am not in the picture anymore.

Then you know what you have to do.

He’ll move on. Wes will find someone who is not broken. Someone who can have his children. If there isn’t anything that life has proven to me is that I was supposed to die. I feel like I have been waiting for the reason since I was fifteen.

It’s finally too much to bear.