Copyright © Francesca Hawley, 2016
He moved to the mirror with the grace of one of the gods and stood in front of it, beautifully nude. His long black hair hung wet from his bath, combed back. His perfectly tanned muscles drew her eyes and she dampened with hunger for him. Glancing at her, he bent and spread lather over his face. He took up his razor and began to shave while she sat up on one elbow.
Despite her desire, she gave no sign of her thoughts when she said, “Good morning, dear.”
Zayna knew her perky tone annoyed him, as it drew only a grunt from her husband so she hid her smile knowing he wasn’t a morning person. He’d tried to wake her this morning so they could couple again after a marathon session the night before.
She’d woken to his touch, but as she was turned on her side facing away from him, he didn’t know it. Despite her feigned sleep, she’d responded to his fingers as they played with her to ready her for him. Then she’d opened for his thick cock when Thanos slid inside her, thrusting deeply until he climaxed but she had no complaints for she had climaxed, too. She usually did when they had sex, but she always hid her response as much as she could. Her body shuddered—she couldn’t prevent it—but she stayed silent. Never making sounds of pleasure or begging for his touch.
To keep him coming back to her bed, she played with his ego. When he asked her if she climaxed, she would look at him with an expression that said, if you want me to, I’ll say yes but she said, “It was very nice, dear.” He never knew if she meant it.
It would be fatal for her plans if he knew she enjoyed it when they fucked. Fuck was the right word. They didn’t make love. Sometimes she wished for tenderness from her husband, but he didn’t seem to be a tender man and their marital agreement was so dry, feelings of love seemed contrary. Or so she had convinced herself. Still, taking Thanos pleased her.
She turned her gaze back to him only to find him watching her via the mirror. She blinked and forced a bland expression onto her face. He gave her a faint smile, seemingly glad to catch her watching him. But how could she not? Every move he made caused his muscles to flex under his golden skin. Oh how she longed to run her hands over him, but she was caught in a trap of her own making. Touching him showed her desire, so she remained passive beneath him.
It always came back to that damn agreement. Their marital agreement permitted him to fuck whomever he wished, and she’d signed her name to it. To her knowledge, he had taken several women on the holding as leman in the six months they had been married. The beddings had been brief, thank the Goddess.
She couldn’t complain, though she wanted to…loud and often. But she didn’t. It was as well that she didn’t love him, ignoring the twinge in her chest as she tried to convince herself she didn’t care.