Seen by Him - Fictional Story
September 28th, 2025 by
Mick Taylor
Chloe stared intently at her reflection in the mirror, her fingers gliding slowly down the elegant curve of her collarbone. The silk robe she wore slipped slightly from one shoulder, revealing the delicate skin beneath that had remained untouched for what felt like months—years, if she were truly honest with herself about the passage of time. As she examined her reflection, she couldn’t help but think that she didn’t look bad at all. Her hair fell in soft waves, framing her face, and her skin had a healthy glow. But despite the outward appearance, a profound sense of loneliness enveloped her. She didn’t feel seen, nor did she feel valued. The divorce had been finalized a mere six weeks ago, but the silence that had settled between her and her ex-husband had stretched far longer, creating an emotional chasm that felt insurmountable. She had followed the script of life meticulously—married young, supported his dreams with unwavering dedication, raised their children with love, and maintained a warm and inviting home. Yet, somewhere along that path, she had begun to fade into the background. She had transformed into someone useful, efficient, and predictable, but ultimately, she felt unwanted. Tonight, she had resolved to reclaim a part of herself that had been lost for far too long.
It was a chance encounter that had changed everything—a profile that caught her attention by accident—or perhaps by fate—when she was aimlessly scrolling through her phone late one night. A wine glass rested in her hand as she sat alone in the dimly lit sanctuary of her bedroom. The profile read simply: “Mick — discreet, professional, and present.” The photos accompanying the text were tastefully seductive, showcasing a man in a tailored black suit, an open-collared white shirt that hinted at a bare chest, all captured in low light that accentuated his features. But it was his eyes that truly captivated her—warm, intense, and exuding a quiet confidence that made her heart flutter. He looked like a man who truly listened, who could see beyond the surface. Chloe found herself staring at the screen for what felt like an eternity before she mustered the courage to send him a message. Now, as she prepared for his arrival, her heart raced with a mix of anticipation and anxiety.
The knock at the door came precisely at 8:00 p.m., as if he had a sixth sense about punctuality. Chloe opened the door and froze for a moment, taking in the sight before her. Mick was taller than she had anticipated, dark-haired and sharply dressed in black slacks paired with a charcoal blazer. He exuded a casual confidence that was reassuring rather than intimidating. His stubble was clean and curated, adding to his allure. But it was those eyes—exactly as she had seen in the picture—that locked onto hers with a quiet gentleness that made her breath catch. "Chloe?" he asked, his voice low and warm, wrapping around her like a comforting embrace. She nodded, struggling momentarily to find her voice. "Yes. Come in." He stepped inside slowly, allowing her the space to breathe. “You look beautiful,” he said, his gaze appreciative but not greedy, as if he were genuinely honored to be there. “Thank you. I... wasn’t sure what to wear.” “You wore you,” he replied, a soft smile gracing his lips. “That’s always perfect.” The comment struck a chord deep within her. It wasn’t just a line; he meant it. She led him to the living room, where the lights were dim, candles flickered softly, and a bottle of wine awaited them, already open. Her nerves screamed for something to do, so she handed him a glass, grateful for the distraction. “First time?” he asked gently, not in jest, but like someone offering a steady hand to guide her. She sipped, feeling the warmth of the wine spread through her. “Yes. Is it that obvious?” “No,” he said, leaning closer, his presence enveloping her. “You just look like someone who’s been waiting to feel again.” Her lips parted slightly in surprise. Heat spread across her chest, igniting something dormant within her. She didn’t answer, and in that moment, she realized she didn’t have to.
They talked for an hour, the conversation flowing easily as he let her lead the way. He asked just enough questions to allow her to be seen, and not once did he make her feel small or foolish for sharing her story. She opened up about her marriage—how it had withered slowly, not with an explosive argument, but rather through quiet neglect. She described the way she began to feel like a ghost in her own home, how the warmth of touch had disappeared first, followed by the laughter that once filled their lives. She wasn’t seeking sympathy; she simply wanted someone to hear her, to acknowledge her pain. Eventually, he reached out, brushing his fingers lightly against her knee. “You’re not invisible,” he said, his voice steady and reassuring. The air in the room grew heavier with unspoken emotions. “You don’t have to pretend tonight. You don’t have to perform. Just… be.”
Something inside her cracked open at his words. “Can I kiss you?” he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper. Chloe hesitated for just a moment, her heart racing, then nodded. He leaned in slowly, giving her every opportunity to change her mind. When his lips finally met hers, it was nothing like the cold, habitual kisses she had grown accustomed to from her ex. Mick kissed her with intention—slow, deliberate, as if he were savoring the moment more than the reward itself. His mouth was warm, and his hands remained respectfully at her waist, fingers spreading with gentle pressure. A soft moan escaped her lips, surprising her with the intensity of her longing. It had been far too long since she had felt this way—wanted, cherished, and desired. He pulled back just a little, brushing his nose along her jawline, whispering, “You taste like curiosity and wine.” A genuine smile broke across her face, one that felt real for the first time in ages. “Don’t stop,” she whispered, her voice laced with need.
Mick took her hand and led her to the bedroom without rushing, every movement he made exuding confidence without a hint of dominance. He undressed her as if he were unveiling a masterpiece—slowly, reverently, with eyes that appreciated every inch of her. As her robe fell to the floor, she instinctively moved to cover her stomach, feeling vulnerable. “No,” he whispered, his voice firm yet gentle. “Don’t hide. You’re stunning.” When he stripped away his own clothing, she took in the sight of his strong, lean, athletic body, but it was his presence that truly made her legs tremble. He didn’t just undress for her; he did so with purpose, as if offering himself completely in return. He laid her down gently, his hands exploring her skin with a reverence that suggested he had waited hours to reach this moment—as if this act of intimacy was the true reward, not merely a prelude to what would come next. When his mouth found her breast, she gasped, arching into him instinctively. He teased her nipple with his lips and tongue, one hand gripping her hip while the other traced soft circles down her thigh. “Mick…” she breathed, the sensation overwhelming her senses. “Tell me what you want,” he urged, his voice low and inviting. Her breath hitched in her throat, and she replied, “I want to feel again.” “Then I’ll make you feel everything,” he promised, his eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that made her heart race.
His lips traveled lower, kissing along her ribs, down her belly, pausing at her hips, igniting a fire within her. She instinctively parted her legs, need throbbing between her thighs as he kissed the inside of her thigh, then the other, teasing her until she whimpered in anticipation. Then his mouth found her—his tongue moving slow at first, drawing long, lazy circles that sent shivers of pleasure coursing through her. Her hips jerked involuntarily as she gasped, “Oh, God…” He hummed in approval against her, the vibration sending her spiraling into a blissful state of ecstasy. She gripped the sheets tightly, her eyes squeezed shut, her head falling back as waves of pleasure built within her. And he didn’t stop; he moved with a rhythm that matched her breath, her gasps, her rising whimpers. She shattered on his tongue, her thighs shaking uncontrollably, moaning his name like a sacred confession. He held her through the orgasm, his mouth softening, hands steady, lips kissing her back to earth. When he moved over her again, hard and ready, she pulled him close, urgency igniting between them. “I want you,” she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. “You have me,” he replied, sliding inside her in one long, fluid stroke, their eyes locked in an intimate connection that made Chloe forget everything—the years of loneliness, the silence that had suffocated her, the ache that had settled deep within her. In that moment, she was full. She was seen. They moved together in a slow, grinding rhythm that felt timeless—each thrust a conversation, every moan a sentence spoken in the language of intimacy. She cupped his face as he moved, kissed him deeply, her nails raking down his back as her pleasure built again. Her second climax came unexpectedly—smaller, yet more intense. Her body shook beneath him, and he held her tighter, whispering her name like a mantra. He followed her into bliss, growling softly in her ear as he came, their bodies still moving, sweat-slick and tangled, long after the waves of pleasure had passed.
They lay together in the aftermath, quiet and content, tangled in the sheets. Mick ran his fingers along her arm, brushing a soft kiss to her shoulder, grounding her in the moment. “Still with me?” he asked, his voice low and soothing. “Very much,” she replied, a smile gracing her lips. He returned her smile, a warmth radiating from him. “You’re different than I expected,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Good different?” he inquired, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Very,” she affirmed, feeling a connection that transcended the physical. They talked softly for another hour, sharing stories and laughter, the atmosphere light and free of pressure or awkwardness. It felt as if she had known him forever, as if they were two souls who had simply found their way back to each other after a long time apart. When he finally stood to leave, a pang of something tightened in her chest—a mixture of longing and gratitude. He noticed the change in her demeanor. “Chloe…” he began, his tone serious yet gentle. “I know,” she said, sitting up and meeting his gaze. “It’s just a lot. But it’s okay.” He leaned down, kissing her slowly, a promise lingering in that kiss. “You’re not broken. You were just waiting for someone to see you,” he reassured her, his words wrapping around her like a warm blanket. She nodded, her throat thick with emotion. As he walked out the door, he turned back, a lingering gaze filled with unspoken understanding. “And Chloe?” he said, his voice soft yet firm. “Yeah?” she replied, her heart racing. “If you ever want to be seen again… you know where to find me.”
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