"You weren't ready for me, my songbird?" my tone keeps an even beat, betraying everything that tears away at me inside. She's lying to me. She's holding back. I hate it. I hate the pain that ricochets in that wild shade of green in her eyes.
I've been gentle with her, I've been patient. That was a mistake.
Her hair rustles against my suit as she shakes her head, "No. I lost track of time," she tells me as if it's an excuse, yet her own tone is admonishing, like it's not good enough even for her own ears.
It's been almost a year since I made her my bride, and in all those dark nights and long days of waiting to be here with her, lost in lust beside her, we've never had this much tension between us. A refusal for her to give in and allow me to take on the burden that weighs her down.
This is not meant to be a burden. Let alone one for her to carry on her own.
"You don't sing like you used to," I comment absently, feeling the pull of animosity I have for myself. It took me too long to understand. Too long to realize what she's going through. "That's my fault."
My admission startles Aria and I meet her wide eyed gaze as I stare down at her.
"I just—I just—" her response is frantic, breathless even. Panic frightens her expression.
"You just need me to do better." I complete the thought for her, although she's quick to shake her head, denying what I say with every instinct she has.
If she saw the way her lower lip quivers when the room is quiet and she thinks she's alone, and the way her shoulders tense with the obvious fears racing through her mind, or the way the lack of sleep has stolen her hums of contentment, she wouldn't object so quickly.
It's not a constant, but it's simply too often.
She's happy still, I know she is. And she doesn't regret it, she wouldn't change what happened and neither would I, but she can't keep going like this. Carrying it all and denying herself her basic needs. Denying me the weight I should be carrying.
"I got you a gift," I tell her, striding towards the bed and changing the subject. Reaching in the pocket of my jacket, I don't hide the dual action toy as I set it on the nightstand. I want her to see it, to prepare for it.
With her head turned towards me, Aria stays motionless where she is. The collar around her neck sparkles in the dim light. Her chest rises and falls heavier as her gaze meets the slick gold end and then up the shaft and, finally, on the smaller protrusion that will not so delicately elicit the sweetest sounds from her lips.
"The doctor," she protests but I'm quick to cut her off.
"I know what she said," my interruption is harsher than intended and it causes a shudder to run through her. I don't regret it. Her worrying needs to end. And this will be the start of that objective. "On the bed, Aria."
Her frame is still as gorgeous as it's always been, although I see the insecurity reflected in her expression. I've always loved her slender neck. I never knew how thrilling it could be to kiss a woman in the crook of it, until she showed me, allowing me to drive that spike of want through her by dragging my teeth down her tender flesh.
She rises without hesitation, and when she fails to drop the silk robe from her shoulders, I demand of her, "Naked. On your back. With your knees spread."
The robe slips easily from her shoulders, pooling around her feet. She steps out of the puddle of expensive silk easily enough, letting the sole tear-shaped diamond nestles between her breasts. Only the best for her. For now and forever.
The slight flush in her chest quickly reaches her high cheek bones, the blush gathering there and pulling a simper from her plump lips. Her teeth graze her bottom lip, in an attempt to keep it at bay. And like I knew she would, her gaze moves to her nightstand. I didn't tell her to and I didn't desire her to do it. The second her gaze reaches it, the simper falls and the anxiousness creeps back.
"You have a tendency recently," I comment as the bed protests her climbing on top of it. She crawls cat-like, and even with the torment of our difficulties staring back at me, desire thrums in my veins. She pauses once she's able to turn over and lay how I commanded her, waiting for me to finish, but I don't until she's laid out how I like. In all her nakedness, she's gorgeous, every inch of her, belonging to me.
"A tendency to distract yourself, when I've told you not to be," I speak while removing my jacket. Her intake is harsh as she takes in what I've said. I'm firmer with her than I've been the past three weeks. I tried to be gentle as she worked her way through this, each of us finding the new rhythm, but my wife doesn't respond to subtleties well.
So a firm hand, it will be.
