Matthew
I'm staring at Sarah's sleeping form, the woman who's supposed to be the embodiment of everything I despise.
Yet, I couldn't stand another man touching her earlier. Sometimes I don't understand my own feelings.
I reach out to brush back a stray strand of blonde hair from her face. She had fallen asleep after crying in my arms. I thought about leaving the room and taking a long walk afterward, but I find myself unable to move now.
It's madness, this fleeting sense of protectiveness toward her. It's ironic. I should be pleased that Mark's action scared her to death. It served her right. But instead, I feel this need to shield her, to keep her safe from men like Mark… or even men like me.
"Damn you, Sarah," I whisper against the silence, my voice a low, grating sound against the quietness of the room. "What have you done to me?"
I can still feel the heat of jealousy when I see Mark's hands all over her body in my mind.
Sarah is my wife.
She shifts in her sleep a little, murmuring words too faint to grasp. I look at the curve of her cheek, the way her lips part just slightly.
Tentatively, I pull the corner of the sheet, revealing the slender line of her shoulder, the soft slope of her side. My gaze trails down the length of her body, noting the stark differences between her and Amanda.
She's too skinny, I tell myself, trying to believe it. That's why I don't find her attractive, not truly. Yet as my fingertips graze the smooth skin of her arm, trailing a path across the cool surface, I can't ignore my racing pulse.
I press a little harder, fingers skimming over the dip of her waist, the rise of her hip.
She is not Amanda. She's not what I want.
But I feel hot and my cock throbs again.
Godfuckingdammit.
My hand moves of its own accord, drawn by a force I can't seem to control. My palm slides over the soft curve of her thigh, I feel the heat radiating from her skin, inviting me closer.
My fingers edge toward the apex of her thighs. Her body responds to my touch, slick and warm, and something inside me snaps. I lean down, my mouth replacing my hand, tasting her.
She moans, fueling my hunger even as I despise it. My hands grip her thighs, spreading them wider. I alternate between long, slow licks and quick flicks of my tongue against her sensitive nub. Her hips surge against my face, seeking more, craving the release only I can provide.
"Matthew…" she gasps, waking up under the shockwave of pleasure. "What are you doing?" she asks, her eyes hazy with sleep and confusion.
"I just…I needed a release," I say. "I didn't finish what I had started with Vanessa. I'll stop if you want."
"Oh," she breathes. "You can continue," she whispers.
I slide up her body, my eyes locked on hers as I position myself between her thighs. The tip of my cock nudges against her slick entrance. I pause there, savoring the anticipation, the way her breath hitches and her pupils dilate with need.
Slowly, achingly slowly, I push inside her. Her wet heat envelops me inch by delicious inch. I watch the slight part of her lips, the flush rising in her cheeks. She's so incredibly tight around me, her body gripping me like a velvet vise.
"Matthew," she whimpers.
I grit my teeth, fighting the urge to slam into her, to take her hard and fast like I usually do. Instead, I keep my thrusts slow and deep, withdrawing almost completely before gliding back into the hilt. Her slick walls flutter around my shaft as if trying to hold me inside her.
Sarah arches beneath me, her fingernails digging into my shoulders.
With a strangled groan, I let myself go, thrusting harder and faster until I find my own release. Pleasure explodes through my veins as I empty myself inside her clutching heat. I collapse on top of her, both of us breathing heavily.
I roll off her as soon as I catch my breath.
Sarah shifts closer, trying to nestle against my side, her hand reaching out to rest on my chest. The gesture feels too intimate, too affectionate. It grates against my raw nerves.
"Don't," I snap, roughly pushing her hand away. I turn my back to her.
I can feel her hurt and confusion radiating from behind me, but I refuse to turn around.
The bed shifts as I feel her move, the sheets rustling. "The way you touched me, the way you looked at me… it felt different this time."
"You're mistaking lust for something deeper. I told you before you're not the one I want. You never will be," I say.
"Right. I am just a body to you, and you have needs," she says quietly, almost to herself.
I can't keep my hands off her because she makes me feel things I don't want to feel, I think bitterly. Because when I'm inside her, I almost forget how much I hate her. Almost.
"That's right," I say, my tone cold and dismissive. "You're my wife in name only. I'll take what I want from you, when I want it. But don't expect anything more."
"I wouldn't dare," she says. "Goodnight, Matthew."
"Goodnight, Sarah," I reply before closing my eyes.
~-~
The next morning, I wake up to the sound of Sarah moving around the room, getting ready for the day. I keep my eyes closed, feigning sleep as I listen to her quiet movements.
The memories of last night flood back - the way her body felt under mine, the soft sounds she made, the confusing emotions that swirled inside me. I clench my jaw, pushing those thoughts away.
When I finally open my eyes, Sarah is standing by the window, looking out at the ocean. She's wearing a simple sundress that hugs her slender frame. The morning light illuminates her hair, making it glow like spun gold. For a moment, I'm transfixed by the sight of her.
"Good morning," she says softly, glancing over her shoulder at me. Her green eyes are bright and awake.
I sit up, running a hand through my tousled hair. "Morning," I reply gruffly.
"I thought we could take another boat ride today," Sarah suggests hesitantly. "Visit one of the other islands nearby."
"Fine," I agree, throwing back the covers and getting out of bed. "Let's go."
We make our way down to the resort lobby, an uneasy tension hanging between us. As we approach the front desk to arrange our boat rental, I spot Mark and Vanessa across the room. They're engaged in conversation, but Vanessa's eyes flick toward us, widening slightly when she sees Sarah by my side.
Mark follows her gaze, his expression turning apologetic as he takes a step toward us. Sarah tenses beside me, her hand instinctively reaching for mine. I stiffen at her touch but don't pull away.
"Sarah, Matthew," Mark greets us, his voice contrite. "I wanted to apologize for my behavior yesterday. I had too much to drink, and I didn't listen to Sarah as I was supposed to. I am sorry."
Vanessa nods along with his words, offering a strained smile. "We're truly sorry for any discomfort we caused."
Sarah's grip on my hand tightens fractionally. I can feel her unease, the way she's fighting the urge to shrink back.
A sudden protectiveness surges through me.
"It's fine," I reply coolly, fixing Mark with a hard stare. "It was a misunderstanding. But it's better that we keep our distance. Clearly, the lifestyle you lead isn't for us. It's nothing personal, of course."
Mark nods in understanding. "Of course. Enjoy your day." He and Vanessa quickly retreat, disappearing into the crowd of guests.
Sarah lets out a shaky breath beside me. "Well, that was awkward," she says.
I chuckle. "Yeah, well. Good thing we may not see them again."
We walk in silence toward the docks, where a sleek white boat is already waiting for us. Sarah brightens at the sight.
The ride is smooth, the ocean stretching endlessly around us. Sarah leans over the side, letting her fingers skim the water. The tension from earlier starts to fade, replaced by the excitement of adventure.
After about thirty minutes, the island comes into view—a rugged slice of land covered in lush greenery. Jagged cliffs rise high above the shore, and a dark cave mouth is barely visible at the base of the rock face.
Sarah gasps softly. "That looks incredible."
I can't help but agree. "Yes. There should be a large cliff with a waterfall and cave on the island."
She turns to me, her green eyes shining with curiosity. "A cave sounds interesting!"
Her excitement must be rubbing off on me, I think to myself as I find myself in a good mood.