The Womanizer's Mute Wife Chapter 117: Ice and Fire

GENESIS

"It’s a surprise. We’re almost there," Kieran said as he guided toward an unknown place, my eyes blindfolded.

After I ca out of the closet and cried until I didn’t think I had any more tears left, he helped into one of my dresses—and, can you believe it, he even helped with my underwear and sanitary pad.

I smiled at the mory.

I’d tried shaking my head, telling him he didn’t have to do all that. But he didn’t listen. He just knelt there, right in the middle of our bedroom, carefully placing the pad into my panties. When he was done, he brought them to my legs.

I sighed and stepped into them, holding onto his broad shoulders to keep steady. He began pulling them up my thighs, slow and careful, until he stopped right near my—yeah. And then... he just stared.

Before I could say anything, he leaned in and kissed there.

My eyes widened. It wasn’t the first ti he’d kissed there—and he had even told once that you could do more—but I could never imagine it, especially not when I had blood flowing out of . He only kissed the top part, but still... that was insane.

I ran my fingers through his hair and gently pushed his mouth away, my face burning with heat. I shook my head, but he just smiled, like he knew exactly what he was doing. Then he pulled the panties up the rest of the way and—of course—grabbed my butt and kissed it too.

That one felt... better. But also really weird.

Then he pressed his cheek firmly against my stomach, arms locked around my legs like if he let go, I might disappear.

His voice dropped—low and rough, like gravel.

"I’d worship you all the days of my life."

My breath caught.

"I’d kneel at your feet every day, kiss the blood you shed, carry your screams in my chest like sacred prayer. Because you’re not just mine—you’re the only thing that’s ever felt real in this godforsaken life."

He shifted, placing a slow, reverent kiss just above my hipbone.

"I don’t care if you’re shattered. I want every sharp piece. Let them cut open—I’ll still beg for more. I was made for you. For your silence. For your fury. For every damn part of you they tried to break."

His grip on tightened for just a second. Just enough to remind he could break if I ever left.

"It doesn’t matter if you’re pregnant," he murmured, fingers curling around my waist. "So don’t cry about that. Don’t mourn what didn’t happen."

His nose brushed against my skin. "Because I’m here. And I’ll give you more."

Then a kiss—hot, lingering—just beneath my navel.

"I’ll fill you with my seed again. And again. Until it takes. Until your body swells with my child. You hear ?"

He pressed his palm flat against my belly, eyes locked on it like it already belonged to him.

"You were made to carry my babies. Every inch of you."

Another kiss. Lower this ti.

"Let them call mad. Let them say I’m obsessed. I am." His voice turned into a growl. "I’ll worship your womb like it’s holy. I’ll carve my devotion into your skin. I’ll pray between your thighs until you’re heavy with ."

His lips dragged upward until they rested on my chest, his breath shaky and reverent.

"One day, you’ll look down at your swollen belly and know—it’s mine. All mine. You’ll waddle because of . Cry because of . Break and bloom because of ."

His fingers laced with mine.

"I’ll breed you, baby. I’ll keep trying until you can’t move without feeling . I’ll worship this body with my seed until it listens. Until it obeys. And when you carry my child—"

He stood and kissed my trembling lips gently. So gently, it almost clashed with the filth he’d just whispered.

"—I’ll kiss your feet every morning. I’ll hold your hips every night..."

He paused, resting his forehead against mine.

"I’ll give you everything," he whispered. "Not just the babies. . My life. My death. My soul. All of it. Yours."

And he smiled.

Not sweetly.

Not softly.

But like a man who would burn the world for a girl who didn’t even speak.

---

Back to the Present

"...I’m about to take the blindfold off. I hope you’re ready," Kieran’s voice pulled from the mory.

I took a deep breath and nodded.

I felt him move behind . Then the blindfold was gone. Light flooded my vision, and I winced, blinking once, twice, then slowly opened my eyes—

And they went wide.

What... What even was this place?

He leaned in close and whispered, "I wanted us to do sothing fun. I brought you to an ice rink."

I just stared.

Ice rink?

What’s an ice rink?

I watched as people skated across a wide field of ice, their shoes... sliding? Gliding? They were laughing and holding hands, spinning, falling—and laughing again. No one looked afraid.

As I took it in, Kieran stepped behind and began gathering my hair into a ponytail.

"I know you’ve never been in a place like this before," he said softly, his fingers moving with such care, as though I might crack if he tugged too hard. I felt his breath near my ear—warm and nice.

I shivered. The place was cold.

Then he stepped in front of and wrapped a thick scarf around my neck. I hadn’t even noticed him holding it. His fingers moved slowly, pulling the ends into place with care.

"It’s frozen water," he explained, his eyes searching mine. "People strap blades to their feet and slide around. Stupid, maybe. But it’s fun. I want you to have that."

I blinked at him. Frozen water? Blades?

Then he dropped to one knee and pulled sothing white from the bag beside us—the sa kind of shoes the others were wearing. But these... these had glittering laces. They shimred like snowflakes in the light.

"These are skates," he murmured. "They’re sharp underneath. But I’ll be there. If you fall, I’ll catch you. Or better yet—fall anyway, baby. Let catch you."

He lifted my foot gently and placed it on his thigh. My cheeks burned. I didn’t know where to look. His head bent low, focused, as he laced the skate snugly around my foot.

"I almost bought out the place," he muttered. "Had my n ready. One word, and this whole rink would’ve been cleared. But..."

I glanced past him and saw them—ten of his n, standing in formation. Their faces were blank, unreadable, like they were carved from stone. Always ready. Always watching.

Then he looked up at .

"...I wanted you to see them. People. Laughing. Living.

I wanted you to feel that. It would be more fun."

He stood again, shrugged off his own coat, and draped it over my shoulders. His scent flooded —leather, spice, and sothing deeply him. It was warm and thick, and I sank into it like it belonged to .

"Wear mine," he said, his voice low and rough. "You’re cold."

He kissed the tip of my nose—quick and soft—and I blinked up at him, heart stuttering in my chest.

I glanced at his n again. Why did they always have to be here? Always around. Always watching.

He caught my chin between his fingers and tilted my face back to his.

"Don’t look at them," he murmured. "Just look at ."

My breath hitched. My heart pounded so loudly I could barely hear anything else.

"I’ll teach you," he whispered, sliding his hand into mine. "And if you fall... I’ll be the floor."

He held his palm out to —large, steady, gloved, and warm.

And I reached for him.

Letting my fingers slip into his, I nodded once. Silently.

He led onto the ice, slow and careful, my arms around him. Each step cautious, new. Slippery.

Even though it scared , I let him.

Because I trusted him.

Even if he was a little mad.

Even if he burned for like wildfire no one could stop.

I was his wife.