The Unwanted Wife-last pt
SimonGhostRileyxfemalereader
Warning: 18+, mdni, size kink, p in v, sexual themed, mentions of sex
He came in late, hours after the lights had dimmed, after the ocean had quieted, after you had given up hope that he'd join you.
You were curled up on your side, facing the window, moonlight washing your skin in silver. The silk sheets clung to your legs, your breath steady, soft, pretending to sleep because it hurt less than being awake and waiting.
The bedroom door creaked gently open.
Footsteps padded in, slow, uncertain.
You heard the low rustle of clothes being removed, the faint jingle of his belt, then the hush of him slipping beneath the covers behind you.
Your heart beat like thunder in your chest.
But the bed dipped under his weight, and the heat of his body ghosted against your back.
And then, his hand moved.
Fingertips barely grazing your wrist.
You turned, slowly, facing him in the dark.
Even without light, you could feel his eyes on you.
His fingers threaded with yours.
Just two breaths syncing under the same sheets. Two souls, scarred and searching, lying quietly in the night.
And tonight, that was enough.
The first light of dawn filtered through the sheer curtains, brushing over the two bodies tangled beneath soft linen.
His brows furrowed faintly as consciousness crept in, warmth, softness, the steady rise and fall of your breath beneath him.
His arm was wrapped tight around your waist.
His face was buried in your chest, the silken fabric of your camisole warm against his skin.
Your leg was hooked over his, and your lips, barely, just barely, were touching his forehead.
His entire body was caged around yours like it was instinct. Like it was home.
And for a moment... he didn't move.
He listened to your heartbeat.
He felt the softness of your fingers curled lightly into his shirt.
You sighed in your sleep.
Something in his chest shifted.
Unfamiliar. Foreign. Dangerous.
He gently, carefully, untangled himself.
Your body stirred, just slightly, like it didn't want to let go.
He hesitated... then forced himself out of bed.
The floor was cool under his feet as he padded toward the bathroom.
The door clicked softly shut.
The sound of running water filled the silence of the villa.
And on the bed, you turned toward the warmth he left behind, nuzzling into the sheets that still smelled like him, dreaming of the man who never said a word, yet whose touch said everything.
Warm water cascaded down his body, steam curling in the dim light. His hands were braced on the wall of the shower, head bowed, muscles tense under the spray. You stood at the threshold, biting your lip as your eyes traced every line of him, powerful, vulnerable, utterly still.
Slowly, you let your silk nightgown slip from your shoulders. It whispered down your skin, pooling around your ankles in a hush of fabric. You reached for the glass door, cool under your fingertips, and opened it with quiet purpose.
You stepped in, the heat wrapping around you like a second skin. Your arms slid around his waist, hands planting gently on his chest. Your body pressed against his back , soft curves to hard muscle, heart to heart.
For a moment, neither of you moved.
But he didn't push you away.
And that silence between you? It wasn't rejection this time.
He slowly turned toward you, water streaming down his face, his eyes darker than you'd ever seen them. Wordless. Intense.
His hand lifted, slow, deliberate, and his fingers found your chin. Tilted it up.
His thumb brushed your lower lip, lingering, tender but possessive.
"You always wanted this," he said, voice low, rough with restraint. "Always wanted me."
You nodded. No words , they would've cracked apart in your throat. You only looked at him, wide-eyed and open, the truth written across every line of you.
And finally, finally, he kissed you.
His mouth claimed yours with a slowness that bordered on reverence, but the hunger beneath it ignited fast. It deepened, spiraled, pulled you under. Passion poured out of him like he'd been holding back for years.
He took your small hands in his, fingers interlacing as if anchoring himself to you, as if letting go now would ruin him.
Then, with a quiet exhale against your mouth, he turned you.
Your back met the cold marble wall, a sharp contrast to the burning heat of him.
His lips didn't leave yours. They moved with growing urgency, hungry, vehement, desperate. Yours matched him, lips parted, bodies pressed tight, nothing held back now.
Tongues tangled, teeth clashed, gasps filled the narrow space between breath and desire.
Saliva mixed in messy kisses, ungraceful, real, raw.
There was nothing restrained anymore.
Just the storm you'd both finally stopped fighting.
He slowly pulled away, breath heavy, water dripping from his lashes. You gasped softly, finally able to breathe again, but your chest still heaved with everything left unsaid.
His forehead rested against yours, the heat of him grounding you, the moment thick with something deeper than just want.
"You sure you want this?" he asked, voice hoarse , like it cost him something to ask.
"I want you, Simon," you whispered, your voice barely above the steam curling around you.
And then he was on you again.
His mouth moved down your jaw, open-mouthed kisses hot and wild, trailing fire across your skin. Teeth grazed your neck, just enough to make you shiver, before he bit down gently, nipping at that tender spot beneath your ear.
You gasped again, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he lingered at your throat, sucking the skin slowly, thoroughly. Then he soothed the sting with a slow, wet lick, and the whimper that escaped you was beyond your control.
He dropped lower, breath warm against the top of your chest.
His teeth skimmed the soft swell of your breast , reverent, teasing.
One hand cupped you, holding you in place as his mouth moved to the other. His tongue circled your nipple in lazy, deliberate strokes, soft and slow, until you arched into him, seeking more.
And when he finally sucked, gently, possessively, it wasn't just your body that gave in.
He nipped at your nipple, the sharpness sending a jolt through you, then soothed it instantly with a deep, slow suck that made your knees tremble. His other hand moved to your other breast, thumb and forefinger rolling your nipple between them, coaxing soft, helpless whimpers from your lips.
You clung to him, lost in the rhythm of his mouth and hands, your body already unraveling.
Then he began to trail kisses lower , down your ribs, your stomach, slow, deliberate, worshipful. Each press of his lips burned through the haze of steam and want.
You barely had time to catch your breath before he lifted one of your thighs and settled it over his shoulder, steadying you with a strong hand at your waist.
His breath warmed the most sensitive part of you, and then his tongue traced a line through your folds, so slow, so precise, it stole the sound from your throat.
You whined, fingers threading through his wet hair, anchoring yourself to him.
Then he lifted your other thigh, locking both over his shoulders, hands grabbing your hips, pinning you against the marble wall.
And then he devoured you.
Tongue moving with practiced, desperate hunger, exploring, tasting, worshipping.
Your hips rolled against his mouth, helpless, your moans echoing in the tiled space, raw and real. Every flick of his tongue, every suck, every slow glide sent you spiraling.
And he was going to make sure you felt that with every stroke of his tongue.
"Aaww, babe!" you gasped, helpless and breathless, the words breaking apart on your tongue.
His tongue delved deeper, slipping inside your sweet, sensitive heat while his lips sealed around you, devouring you like he'd been starved for this, for you. Every stroke, every suck, every flick of his tongue sent another ripple through your trembling body.
You were practically sitting on his face now, thighs tight around his head, hips rocking helplessly against his mouth. He held you firm, guiding every desperate movement, his grip unrelenting, like he couldn't stand the idea of letting you go.
Your back arched, spine pressing hard into the cold marble as your head fell back, eyes fluttering shut.
Heat coiled low in your belly, winding tighter and tighter.
And your whole body began to shudder, little shakes starting in your core and spreading outward like waves. Shivers rolled down your spine as he kept going, relentless and tender all at once, like he wanted you to fall apart in his hands , in his mouth.
And God... you were so, so close.
Your fingers tangled tighter in his hair, gripping like it was the only thing keeping you from floating away. Every swirl of his tongue, every wet, open-mouthed kiss against your core pushed you closer, impossibly closer.
"Simon!" you choked out, voice cracking, high and desperate. "I, I'm gonna..."
If anything, he deepened his grip, thumbs digging into your hips, holding you in place as his tongue moved faster, more precise, like he knew every part of you, every reaction, every sweet spot.
You were grinding against him now, helpless and wild, body no longer yours to command. Your thighs trembled around his head, your spine arched off the wall, and the heat inside you finally snapped.
A cry ripped from your throat, raw, broken, beautiful.
Your body convulsed against him, every muscle tightening, toes curling, hips jerking uncontrollably as wave after wave of pleasure tore through you. Your vision blurred, and the only thing anchoring you to this world was the solid weight of his hands and the relentless devotion of his mouth.
Even as you came undone, he kept going , slower now, gentler, kissing you through the aftershocks, soft licks that made you twitch and gasp with overstimulation.
Finally, your body went limp against the wall, breath ragged, heart pounding like it wanted to escape your chest.
And only then did he pull back, lifting his head slowly.
His lips were wet. His eyes, dark, tender, full of something deeper than lust , locked with yours as he rose to his feet.
He leaned in, forehead resting gently against yours, your breaths mingling in the steam.
"You taste like heaven," he whispered, voice thick with awe. "And you're mine."
You were still catching your breath, body limp against the marble, heart pounding in your chest like a war drum when he kissed you again.
Not rushed or hungry, but deep, claiming, full of everything he'd just shown you with his mouth. You could taste yourself on his lips, and it only made the kiss filthier... more intoxicating.
His hands trailed down your sides, grounding you, caressing the soft curve of your waist, then your thighs. He lifted you with ease, pressing your back more firmly against the slick wall. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, legs instinctively locking around his waist, clinging to him like you belonged there, like you always had.
He reached between you, and you felt him, hard, hot, heavy, brushing against your entrance.
"Simon..." you whispered, the name barely audible, breath catching in your throat.
His eyes locked with yours, wild and soft all at once. "I've got you," he murmured, one hand cradling the back of your head like you were something fragile, precious. "Always."
You gasped, head falling against his shoulder, nails digging into his back as your walls stretched to accommodate him. He didn't rush, he filled you inch by inch, watching every reaction, every twitch of your body, every change in your breath.
The moment he was fully inside, both of you stilled, foreheads pressed together, hearts pounding in sync.
Not just the pleasure. Not just the heat.
The unspoken need. The years of restraint finally breaking loose.
He pulled back, then thrust in again , slow, deliberate, with purpose. Every movement was controlled, deep, worshipful. He wasn't just fucking you.
He was making love to you.
The way his hand cupped your jaw, the way his mouth brushed yours between gasps, the way your names fell from each other's lips like promises, it was all too much. And still, not enough.
You rolled your hips to meet his, moaning softly into his neck as he picked up the pace, each thrust now heavier, deeper, more desperate. The sound of wet skin, the soft slap of bodies, the echoes of your shared pleasure filled the steamy space.
You could feel it building again, a deeper, more powerful wave rising inside you.
And you knew he felt it too.
Your second climax was hovering, just out of reach, when he slowed his pace, pulling back until only the tip of him remained inside.
You whimpered, clenching around nothing.
"Shhh," he murmured against your lips, voice low and ragged. "Not done with you yet."
Gently, he slid out of you. Your body trembled from the loss, but he was already guiding you, turning you slowly to face the glass wall of the shower, water still cascading down both your bodies. Your palms pressed to the slick surface, chest heaving, cheek against the cool glass.
Then you felt him behind you, warm, solid, overwhelming.
He slid one hand over yours, pressing it more firmly to the glass. His other followed, intertwining his fingers with yours, pinning them both there. His chest was flush with your back, and his length nudged against your entrance once more.
And then, slowly, deeply, he pushed back inside.
You gasped, your forehead dropping forward, eyes fluttering closed as the stretch pulled a deep, aching moan from your throat. He filled you so completely it was almost too much, but it wasn't. It was perfect.
Your eyes darted back to catch a glimpse of him, wet hair falling over his forehead, jaw clenched, his gaze locked on the way your bodies met.
"Fuck... look at you," he growled, his voice dark silk in your ear. "Taking me so well... like you were made for this. Made for me."
You whimpered, grinding back instinctively, and he rewarded you with a sharp, deep thrust that made your knees buckle.
He caught you easily, strong arms bracing your body, hips rolling into you again and again, deeper, harder, but still controlled. Still his rhythm.
"You love this, don't you?" he whispered, filthy and reverent at the same time. "Being stretched open on my cock, crying for it..."
His teeth scraped your shoulder.
"You're mine, baby. Say it."
"Yours," you moaned, so soft and wrecked, "I'm yours."
He slammed into you again, and again, never letting your hands go, never pulling too far away. Every thrust sent sparks through your belly, heat coiling tight in your core once more. You were close, so close, and the sound of his voice, the filth he spoke in your ear, the feeling of him inside you...
You were going to break again.
He broke you, completely, beautifully.
Your body tensed, every muscle tightening as the orgasm tore through you like lightning. You screamed his name, forehead pressed to the glass, legs shaking violently as your world fractured into blinding white heat.
And behind you, he grunted, low, guttural, hips driving deep one last time as he spilled inside you, warmth flooding your core, pulsing with every throb of him.
You both trembled, locked together in the steam and the silence and the staggering aftershock.
His cum trickled down your thighs, thick and hot, mixing with water as it streamed down your legs. Your body sagged forward, weak and overwhelmed, the edges of your vision fading to black, not from fear, but from complete surrender.
Before you could fall, before the darkness took you, his arms wrapped around you from behind, strong and steady. He held you up, hands gentle now, cradling you like something sacred.
"Got you," he whispered, his lips against your damp temple. "I've got you, sweetheart. I'm right here."
You were limp in his arms, spent and shivering, but safe.
He turned the water down, pressing soft kisses to your shoulder, your neck, your cheek. One hand stayed on your belly, grounding you, the other moved to brush the wet hair from your face.
"You okay?" he murmured, voice raw but soft, full of something so deep it made your chest ache.
You nodded faintly, resting your head back against his shoulder, tears mixing with the water.
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When want becomes obsession, obsession turns into madness
The priv
