My Husband Wants An Open Marriage (Julie and Ryan)

CHAPTER 078: The Pull Of Sleep

From the moment Luke came in, I knew something was wrong. He had that look the one that says, 'I've been to hell and back, and I'm not sure if I'm still alive.' I thought it might be work. A failed deal, some corporate drama, anything but this. "What kind of accident, Luke?" I say. I feel like I know the answer already, but I'm praying to whatever high power's out there that it's not what I think it is.

He closes his eyes for a moment. When he finally speaks, his words are almost inaudible.

"Sara's in the hospital."

Sara. His ex-wife.

"What?" I say, my hands clutching the arms of the chair. "Oh my God, Luke. Is she? What happened? Is she okay?"

The real question I want to ask is, 'What have you done, Luke?' But I can't find the courage to ask. And also, maybe I'm giving him the benefit of doubt. It could be something else. Maybe something happened to her and Luke's name was sitting at the top of her contact list. Maybe she called him. Maybe, maybe, and maybe. It's better than actually believing what my mind is saying, that Luke went to her house even after I told him to leave her

alone.

Luke doesn't answer right away. Instead, he stands, pacing the small balcony like a caged animal, his hands raking through his hair, his breaths shallow and uneven.

"Luke!" I say, standing up and grabbing his arm to stop him. "Talk to me!"

He looks at me then, his eyes filled with something I can't quite place.

"She fell down the stairs," he says.

""What stairs?"

Silence. He's staring at me with something close to an apology.

"What fucking stairs, Luke? Did you go to her house?"

His silence is all the confirmation I need.

"Did you push her?"

His head snaps back like I've just slapped him. "Why would you even ask me that?"

"I don't know, Luke!" The words burst out of me. "You're not telling me anything! You came here almost two hours late, looking like your world had caved in. You planted me on that glass like you were trying to fuck something out of your mind, and now you're still reluctant to tell me what's eating you up. What was I supposed to think? You went to her house, Luke. The woman who caused your child's death. You went to her house. What were you thinking?"

"I didn't push her." His voice is calm, but there's an edge to it.

"Okay? So what happened?"

"She fell," he says. "She lost consciousness. I took her to the hospital. She has a concussion and some bruising The doctor said she'll probably wake up tomorrow."

"And then what?"

CHAPTER 078: The Pull Of Sleep

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"She's going to turn this all against me." He runs a hand through his hair again. "I know Sara. The second she opens her eyes, she'll find a way to make me the villain. I just... I needed one night of peace before everything turns to shit."

I'm stunned into silence. The Luke I know is calm, measured. This Luke is unraveling, his anger and guilt bleeding into every word.

For a long moment, the only sound is the soft rustle of the night breeze. Finally, I reach out, stretching my hand toward him. "Come here."

He hesitates for a second before stepping forward, his body folding into mine as if he's been holding himself together with duct tape and hope. I wrap my arms around him, running my fingers through his hair, whispering the only words I can think of. "It's going to be okay."

He doesn't respond, but the way his arms tighten around me tells me he wants to believe it.

At the back of my mind, questions are piling up. Why did he go there? What was he thinking? What exactly happened? But I push them down. For now, he needs comfort more than he needs an interrogation.

After a while, he pulls back just enough to look at me, his hands still resting on my waist.

"Julie..." His voice is hoarse. "I-"

I press a finger to his lips.

"Not now," I say. "We'll talk later. Let's just... let's just get through tonight."

He nods, his forehead resting against mine for a moment before he picks me up, cradling me like I'm something fragile.

He carries me inside, setting me on the bed. As he lies down beside me, I feel the way his body sags against the mattress.

I want to tell him everything will be fine, that Sara won't do anything, but the truth is, I don't know. And that uncertainty terrifies me.

Still, I reach for his hand, threading my fingers through his

"Can I stay the night?" he asks.

"Of course. We'll get through this together."

The room is quiet except for the faint hum of the heater and the muffled sounds of the night outside. We're lying on the bed, face to face, our bodies close but not quite touching.

His hand is warm when he lifts it, fingers brushing against my cheek as though he's memorizing me. His thumb traces slow, lazy circles along my jawline, his touch so soft it almost feels like being touched by feathers. "What did I ever do right to deserve you?"

I roll my eyes, though I'm smiling. "You probably don't."

His laughs, and then he shakes his head, his lips curling into something that almost looks like relief. "Fair enough."

His fingers keep moving, tracing invisible lines down the curve of my nose, over my lips, along the arch of my +25 BONUS

CHAPTER 078. The Pull Of Sleep

brow. He's looking at me, but I can tell his mind is somewhere else, wandering down dark alleys I can't follow. "Luke," I say.

He doesn't answer, just leans forward and kisses me.

It's different this time-nothing like the fire on the balcony. This kiss is soft, reverent, almost hesitant, like he's afraid I'll break if he presses too hard. His lips move against mine slowly, drawing me in, and for a moment, everything else falls away. Then he lifts himself onto me, his arms bracketing my head and his lips still locked on

mine.

As he settles between my legs, I feel the heat of his body radiating down onto my skin. His lips leave mine, trailing down my neck, across my collarbone, and back up to my earlobe, where he nips.

His hand travels south. He finds my folds and probes gently. And then he increases the pressure. I moan, my body responding to his touch. Two fingers dig in, finding that perfect spot that makes my insides clench.

"You're always wet," he says, his voice low and husky.

I want to reply with something sarcastic, but I can't find my voice.

He pulls those fingers out and traces a path along my slit, finding my clit. His touch is feather-light, almost teasing, but it sends shivers through me. I rotate my hips, pushing into his hand, begging for more. His fingers move in time with my movements, stroking me in a rhythm that has me on the edge.

"Oh, god," I say.

His fingers travel down again, and he buries them in me, while his thumb still strokes my clit at a relentless pace. I feel him arching those two fingers, finding that magical spot again. As he strokes it, I feel myself climbing higher and higher.

I cry out his name, the sound echoing through the room as I give in to the orgasm. It's waves after waves of pleasure. As I'm cumming, I feel his fingers leaving and something much bigger replacing them.

His movements are precise, calculated, as if he's savoring every inch of me. He withdraws, then thrusts back in, his dick gliding in and out with a smoothness that's almost surreal. The slowness of it, the rhythm, the way he seems to be touching every part of me at the same time, it's all too much.

"Fuck, Luke," I say.

"Tell me you'll always be mine."

His body rotates, his hips circling in a way that grazes my clit with every thrust. It's a subtle movement, almost imperceptible, but it's killing me. The sensation builds. I feel like I'm losing my mind, like my body is on the verge of exploding into a million pieces.

"Say it, Julie. Say you'll always be mine."

"Luke, I-"

His eyes are locked on mine, his gaze intense and focused. I see the desire there, the need, the hunger. It's a look that says he's lost in this moment, in me, in our love-making. And as he moves inside me, I feel like I'm lost too, adrift in a sea of pleasure and desire. The world around us fades away, leaving only this, this moment, this connection.

Honestly, it isn't fair, him asking me to form a coherent speech right now.

But I try. "I'm yours, Luke," I say, "Now. Always!"

I scream that last part because Luke's movements have gone wild.

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He pumps faster and faster, driving into me with a force that makes me gasp. I feel him deep inside me, stretching me to the limit, and I know I'll be sore tomorrow. But right now, I don't care. All that matters is this moment, this connection, this raw, animalistic pleasure. "Say it again," he commands.

"I'm yours."

"Again!"

"I'm fucking yours, Luke."

His movements become more frantic, his breathing ragged as he thrusts into me with a wild abandon. We're a tangle of limbs, a mess of moans and groans, our bodies slick with sweat and desire. I feel like I'm being taken to the edge of the world, that I'm hurtling towards an unknown destination, and I'm not sure I want to stop.

I can feel him building toward his climax, his dick throbbing inside me as he grunts and groans. And then, suddenly, we're both cumming. Our bodies shudder and convulse as the orgasm washes over us.

He collapses against me. His warmth is comforting and overwhelming all at once, until I feel him pull away. There's a whisper of cool air where his body used to be as he rolls onto his back.

Now we're both staring at the ceiling.

"That was..." he starts.

I want to answer-crazy, intense, everything-but the words never make it past my lips. My eyelids grow heavier with each passing second.

The exhaustion of the day, the emotional rollercoaster, the sex-it all wraps around me like a soft cocoon. My limbs feel weightless, sinking into the mattress, and the world begins to blur at the edges.

I think I hear him chuckle and feel him plant a kiss on my forehead, but even that fades as my thoughts scatter like leaves in the wind.

And then there's nothing but the quiet, the warmth of his presence beside me, and the sweet, unrelenting pull of sleep.