Chapter 469 Push
Delia’s POV
He came home looking worse than he left.
I saw it the second he walked into the kitchen. Same coat. Same closed mouth. Same lie sitting behind his eyes. He had gone to Julian and come back emptier, like talking had cost him something he still refused to name.
“You spoke to him,” I said.
“To Julian. Yes.”
“And?”
“I told him my father wants him watching his back.”
I shut the tap off.
“That is all you told him?”
“Yes.”
I dried my hands and came around the counter.
“Noah. You look like a man who swallowed glass and called it loyalty.”
He tried to step past me. I put my hand on his chest.
“No. You don’t get to walk into this house, drop half a story, and disappear into the bedroom again.”
His jaw flexed.
“I did what I could.”
“You did what felt safe for your father.” I pushed him back until his hips hit the counter. “I am your wife. I can feel you rotting from the inside, and you still won’t give me the truth.”
“Delia.”
“Say my name like that again and I will take it as permission.”
His eyes darkened. Good. I wanted him angry. Anger was honest. Silence was the thing I was done sleeping next to.
I grabbed his belt.
“You don’t get to carry the whole world and then refuse to touch me like I am part of it.”
“I don’t want to use you.”
“Then don’t use me.” I yanked the belt open. “Fǔck me. Look at me. Stop treating me like furniture you feel guilty around.”
His mouth crashed onto mine. Hard. Hungry. I bit his lower lip, and he groaned into me. I shoved his jacket off his shoulders, and he lifted me onto the counter. My skirt rode up. His hands went under it like he had been starving for skin.
“That’s it,” I said against his mouth. “Stop thinking.”
“I can’t.”
“Then think about this.”
I wrapped my legs around him and pulled him in. He was already hard. I rubbed against him through his pants until his breath broke. He dragged my underwear to the side and pushed two fingers into me. I was wet enough that it made a filthy sound.
“Fǔck,” he muttered.
“For me. Not for him. Not for Julian. For me.”
He fingered me like he was trying to shut his own head up. I held his wrist and made him go deeper. My head dropped back. A moan slipped out of me.
“More.”
He dropped to his knees on the kitchen floor and pulled me to the edge of the counter. His mouth found my pussy with no warning. I grabbed his hair and held him there. He licked me open, sucked my clǐt, and shoved his tongue inside me like apology and hunger had become the same thing.
“Yes. Eat. Don’t you dare stop.”
He didn’t. He ate me until my thighs shook around his head, and I came on his mouth, messy and loud, one heel digging into his back. He kept licking through it until I yanked his hair.
“Bedroom. Now.”
He carried me. I kissed him in the hall and tasted myself on his tongue. We hit the bedroom door with his shoulder. He dropped me on the bed, and I sat up, pulled his cock out, and took him into my mouth before he could speak.
He cursed.
I sucked him deep. Wet. Greedy. I wanted him wrecked. I wanted him too full of me to keep hiding behind that quiet face. Spit ran down his shaft. I used my hand and my throat together until his hips jerked.
“Delia. I’m close.”
I pulled off.
“Not yet.”
I shoved him onto his back and climbed over him. I sank down on his cock in one drop, and we both made an ugly sound. He filled me so deep my mouth fell open.
“Look at me,” I said.
He did.
“You don’t get to come into this marriage half gone.” I started riding him hard. “If you won’t talk, then you take this.You take me.”
His hands locked on my hips. I slapped one of them.
“I set the pace.”
“Then take it,” he growled.
I fǔcked him. Fast. Deep. My breasts bounced in his face, and he sucked a nǐpple into his mouth. I held his head there. The wet slap of my pǔssy on his cǒck filled the room. I was so wet it ran down him.
“This is mine,” I said. “This cock. This house. You. Stop acting like you already belong to someone else’s war.”
“I don’t want you in it.”
“I’m already in it. I’m married to you.”
I leaned down and kissed him messily while I kept moving. He thrust up into me, and I let him. The bed slammed the wall. I came again with his name in my mouth, cǔnt clamping around him, nails in his shoulders.
He tried to roll me under him.
“No,” I said, breathless. “I stay on top.”
I lifted off him, turned around, and sat back down reverse. His groan was wrecked. I gave him the view of my ass taking every inch. He grabbed it like a man drowning.
“Fǔck. Delia.”
“Say it.”
“You’re my wife.”
“Louder.”
“You’re my wife.”
I bounced on him until my legs burned. Then I pulled off, dropped between his thighs, and sucked him again, tasting both of us. He came with a broken sound, hot across my tongue. I swallowed it. All of it. I licked him clean while he shook.
He stared at me like he could not believe I still wanted him like this.
“I’m not done,” I said.
“Give me a minute.”
“You can have a minute. Then you put that mouth back on me.”
He did. He pulled me up his body and ate me a second time, slower, deeper, with two fingers hooked inside me while he sucked my clit. I came on his face and laughed through it, wrecked and angry and still hungry.
When he hardened again, I sat on his cock and rode him facing him. This time I held his face in both hands.
“You don’t have to tell me tonight,” I whispered. “But you don’t get to shut me out of your body while you decide.”
“I won’t.”
“Promise me on this.” I rolled my hips and made him feel every inch. “Not on guilt. On this.”
“I promise.”
I fǔcked him until he came inside me, heat spilling deep, his forehead pressed to mine. I kept him there, full, shaking, my husband under me at last instead of a ghost walking around in his clothes.
After, I stayed on his chest with his cǒck softening inside me and his cǔm leaking out around him.
“You still look tense,” I said.
His laugh was tired.
“You just tried to fǔck it out of me.”
“I will do it again if you come home like that.” I kissed his mouth. “Sleep. Tomorrow you can keep your secret. Tonight you belong here.”
He held me like he was afraid I would let go.
I didn’t.