I smile. “We’re gonna marry in a few hours?” My fear slowly leaves me. He knew. He knew I’d have doubts about his intentions.
“No sense in wasting time.”
“Oh no.”
He drops his foot on the ground and leans his elbows on his knees. “What do you mean, no?”
“Blake, I don’t have a dress.”
His eyebrows shoot up as if I said something outrageous. “Of course you have a dress. Pft.”
Of course I do. “Um, where is it?”
“In the spare bedroom.”
“Seriously?"
“Mmhm.” He checks his watch. “Twelve minutes.”
He’s timing his thinking time. Holy crap. I’ve read articles about super-productive successful billionaires and heard about this timing thing, but to witness it is a whole other level. Blake and I are opposites. And opposites attract.
“I’ll be right back.” I leave for the spare bedroom on the other side of the apartment. A long, off-white wedding dress with pale blue lace is spread out on the bed, pretty off-white Mary Janes neatly positioned at the foot of the bed. I circle the bed severaltimes before picking up the dress and putting it against my body, my heart hammering.
There’s no long mirror in the room. I walk back out and into the hallway. Blake’s leaning against a mirror.
I face it and stare.
“Do you like it?” he asks.
“It’s beautiful.”
“I know. That’s why I bought it.”
“When?” I’m staring at the dress. It’s real. This is all real, tangible. I’m holding a wedding dress in my hands. Excited, I squeal.
Blake chuckles. “When what?”
“When did you get the dress?”
He smirks. “The morning you starved me. Maybe I wasn’t thinking clearly on an empty stomach. Maybe I should return it.”
“No!”
He pushes off the wall and walks behind me, then lifts my hair and kisses behind my ear. “Is your pussy sore?”
“Yes.”
“On a scale of one to ten, how sore is it?”
“Five.” Seven, but I won’t say it. I’d do anything for this man. He treats me like a princess.
“We have five minutes left, and I wanna fuck your sore pussy. Put your hands on the mirror and push out your ass.”
“But the dress…”
“Hold it. Fold it over your arm. I don’t care.” He lifts my robe, teases my pussy with his fingers, and probes it with his cock. “You’re wet already.” He pushes inside, not all the way, but enough to stretch me. I rest my palms on the mirror, holding the dress up against it.
My eyes droop as I watch our reflection, mainly him behind me as he moves back and forth inside me. It feels so good. In themirror, our eyes lock, and my heart flutters, filling with love for this man.
