“Oh!” My body arches as he teases my body. I surrender to Ash's expert touch, every caress building a delicious tension inside me. The blindfold heightens each sensation. My world narrows to just this. His skilled hands, his warm breath, the fire he ignites within me. My fingers clutch the sheets as ecstasy builds and builds.
“Come for me. I want to watch you come.” His fingers slide between my legs, touching, rubbing, until pleasure crests. But he doesn’t stop. He keeps at it until my body is shuddering again. Then his mouth is there, and I can’t believe I have it in me, but I’m coming again.
Just when I think I can't take any more, he uses his mouth and fingers, drawing another peak from me, then another. I'm lost in sensation, floating on pure bliss.
As the pleasure ebbs from my body, reality seeps back in. The silk tie still covers my eyes, but I feel Ash's weight shift away from me on the mattress. My skin cools where his touch lingered moments ago.
I want to reach for him, to curl into his warmth, but I remember our agreement. Accept what he gives, nothing more. Pleasure without intimacy or connection. A physical release only. Clinical, almost, despite how good it feels. He won't seek his own pleasure or hold me after. He won't whisper sweet nothings or share intimate moments beyond the act itself.
The loss of his presence hits harder than I anticipated. I knew what I was agreeing to, yet my heart refuses to accept these boundaries.
The blindfold keeps me in darkness, but I don't remove it yet. It's easier this way, pretending I can't see the guilt that must be etched across his face. Easier to imagine his touches mean more than they do.
I feel Ash's fingers at the back of my head, untying the silk. As the fabric falls away, I blink against the dim light. A tear I didn't even realize I was holding back slips down my cheek.
"Did I hurt you?" His voice carries an edge of concern, but if he knows how I really feel, the guilt he feels will worsen. I can’t let him know how I really feel.
"No." I wipe away the evidence of my emotional weakness. How can I explain that the pain isn't physical? That each time he touches me like this, it's both heaven and hell?
His fingers brush my shoulder, hesitant now. "You're crying."
I shake my head, forcing a smile. "Sometimes… sometimes, it's just overwhelming. In a good way." It’s a lie, but it's kinder than the truth, than admitting each touch makes me fall harder for a man who will never love me back.
"You're sure?" His blue eyes search my face, and for a moment I see genuine worry there. It would be easier if he were cold, distant. Instead, he shows these glimpses of care that give my foolish heart hope.
"I'm sure." I pull the sheet up to cover myself, suddenly feeling exposed and vulnerable. "Thank you. For… for making me feel good."
The formal words sound strange, but what else can I say? That I wish he would hold me after? That I long for him to kiss me with real passion, not just calculated pleasure?
"I didn't mean to make you cry," Ash says, his voice rough with emotion. "I thought… I thought if we kept it just physical, it would be easier."
I’m clearly failing at convincing him my tears mean nothing. Even in the dim light, I can see the war raging behind his blue eyes.
“No, it’s fine. Really. Amazing. But… what about you?”
He shifts uncomfortably. “This is about you.”
I bite my lip, warring with myself. The truth is, if we’re going to have a physical only relationship, then I want it all.
“If this is just our bodies, like with the other women… no emotions, no complications, just…" I wave my hand vaguely between us. “You could have pleasure too, right?”
Ash's jaw tightens. "It doesn’t change that you're my wife, not some woman I pay to forget for an hour."
It occurs to me that he’d still prefer those women over me. Since we’re married, perhaps he can’t escape the guilt like he can with the other women even if I agreed to a similar situation.
I try to give him a wan smile. “I understand. You’d rather have someone you won’t see again.” I wonder if that’s why he’s been working so late every night.
He tilts his head. “I’m not seeing other women, Hannah. Not now. And I don’t plan to.”
It’s a strange relief to hear him say that.
“I want to fuck you, but it’s harder for me with you, and I don’t want to end up making you feel bad if I can’t handle it.”
I study Ash's troubled expression, understanding dawning. He has feelings for me. Not love. Not what he felt for Meghan. But something. Something that scares him enough to build walls between us as a way to protect his love for Meghan.
“I promised no expectations. Just the physical.”
His eyes meet mine, intense and searching. "You deserve more than that."
