Unnatural Instinct: Free

28.

I've never been so content. More—I've never been so happy. With you. Together. It's almost like a dream. No. It's better than a dream.

I like showing you off. I like holding your hand as we walk down the path together. People nod as we pass and we nod back. Though they appear happy for us on the outside, I know how jealous they must be, particularly the men. They were wrong about you, about your rebellious nature, about your inability to accept your place as a woman. They thought you difficult; I thought you a challenge.

Not only are you the most beautiful woman in the village but one of the loveliest. Lovely in the way you appreciate me and support the things I say; lovely in the way you take care of me with your food and your presence and your warmth. You've been keeping a clean home and a busy kitchen. You're kind and gentle and modest. Those who once spoke snidely about you, now no longer. You've even begun to make amends with your family, who have seen your change. Finally, your life, our lives, are coming together as they should.

You're everything a woman should be. Of course they're jealous

Your hand feels so small in mine. Lifting it to my mouth, I kiss it. As I look down at you, you smile up at me. Has it really only been five days? Already, it feels so much longer, like we've been living together for years.

We reach home. You cook me dinner as I relax in the living room, and you make sure to be as quiet as you can, trying not to disturb me as I read a book. Soon, dinner is ready and I settle in the kitchen. You serve me lamb stew, which you ladle generously into my bowl. Every meal I tell you not to give me too much, but you always do.

'Woah, woah, that's enough!' I say with a laugh. 'Don't make me too full, or I might just fall straight to sleep tonight.' I wink at you.

Your cheeks glow red as you lower your eyes to the table with a smile.

You sit opposite me with your own bowl as I eat. I'm almost done by the time I realise you've barely touched yours. You haven't been eating much lately. In fact, I rarely see you eat at all. Before we were married, I remember you having a large appetite, almost as big as a man's. It is something I don't miss. But as much as I appreciate your desire to keep your figure for me, you still need to eat.

You're staring down at your bowl, so still it's almost like you're asleep.

'You're not hungry?' I say.

You jerk your head up, and for a moment, I glimpse something in your eyes that takes me by surprise. Are you sad? But whatever I saw vanishes so quickly behind your usual, lovely smile, that I reassure myself that I must have imagined it.

You start eating and I turn back to my bowl.

Later that night, we're back in each other's arms. Every night since the wedding it has been the same. I can't seem to get enough of you. And it's not just at night but in the day too. Every day, bar one, I've managed to come home to enjoy your company, even if it's only for a few minutes.

You're on all fours in the middle of the bed, your beautiful, smooth backside in my hands as I kneel behind you. We haven't done it this way before and I'm excited to discover what it's like. My erection brushes up between your legs, but I'm not ready for that yet; I want to make you feel good first. Leaning over you, I kiss you down the length of your spine. I take my time, making sure you really understand and know the love that I have for you.

When I reach your buttocks, I smooth my hands up your sides, really enjoying the feel of your body, your smooth skin, your wonderful curves. I reach your breasts and can't help but give them a gentle rub, your nipples hard and rubbery against my palms.

You don't make a noise. You don't move. I frown. Briefly, I wonder if you're even enjoying this. Have you ever enjoyed it? I try to think back to our previous times together, the sounds you made, the expressions you pulled. I shake my head, trying to dispel my foolish doubts. Of course you're enjoying yourself. You're just being demure, that's all. I have nothing to worry about.

And yet, even as I enter you, I can't seem to quite shake the feeling.

I grunt as I fill you up. At this angle I can go deeper. I like it. Grabbing your hips, I begin to thrust.

It doesn't take long before I'm done. Usually, we'll do it twice, but not tonight. The lamb stew was heavy and it's really made me tire. I yawn as I slump into the bed and pull your back against my chest, my soggy penis pushed up against your warm backside. I love spooning you. I love holding you close. The sex is great, but I love these moments almost just as much. Nuzzling the back of your neck, I whisper how much I love you.

I lower my hand down to your belly, thinking, wondering, hoping. Is there something cooking inside? Maybe a baby will make you happy in a way that I can't. Pressing my face into your shoulder, I sigh.

I wake later that night to find your side of the bed empty. I raise my eyes and see your dark figure standing by the window. The moonlight is gleaming inside. It catches the shine in your hair and makes your silken nightie glow. And for a moment, I think you look like an angel.

My heart lurches in my chest as I watch you quietly, unwilling to disturb you. What are you thinking? What are you gazing at? Again, like before, there's that sadness in your face, but this time there's more than just a glimpse. Your lips are turned down, your eyes are bright but lowered. I can no longer deny its reality.

I don't move, and I won't ask you to come to bed, preferring to watch what other secrets you might divulge to me.

I wait a long time before you finally turn around and return. I squeeze my eyes shut, pretending to sleep as I feel you crawl in beside me. You lie down far enough away that you don't touch me.