“Don’t you? Wouldn’t you miss Kev and Shelly if we never went back? What about Maddison? Don’t you want to see our goddaughter grow up? And what about your sisters? Your nieces and nephews?”
I allow myself a few long seconds to think about it, trying to imagine what this could become over time. “I guess I would eventually, yes. But if the alternative is keeping you safe, I’m willing to never see them again.”
“I’m sure we’ll find ways to remain safe eventually, without needing to hide.”
“We’ll work on that once you get better. Now, rest. It’s the middle of the night.”
“Ugh… All I do all day is rest. A girl needs to have some fun now and then,” she mumbles.
Like an audacious little minx, she arches back to press herself into me, bringing the swell of her ass right onto my cock. I grab her hip and push her away, but it’s too little too late. My body’s already reacting to the contact, a familiar rush surging into my length.Stupid fucking instinct…
She lets out a protest, trying again, but I prevent it. “What’s a wife to do to get fucked by her husband?” she complains.
Shit. This works on me even better than physical contact. But I don’t let it show, muttering instead, “Not until you’re healed.”
“I’m feeling so much better already. We could go slow. Very slow.”
“Six weeks,” I remind her, gently pinching the skin of her hip. “Not a day sooner.”
“The doctor saidfourweeks, Alexander.”
“She said sixoptimally.”
“Ugh, killjoy.”
“Sex addict.”
“Prude.”
“Slut.”
She giggles at the last one. “You’re so mean.”
“I know. Sleep.”
After a sigh, she wriggles closer to me. When I try to prevent it, she says, “It’s not sexual. I’m just cold.”
Though I doubt it, I let her hip go and let her press herself onto me. When she feels the uncontrollable effect she has on me, she mumbles, “And I’m the slut?”
“I’ll always be a slut for you, freckles. Even when it’s inconvenient.”
Her small chuckle shakes her against me. “What a good little husband you are.”
Fucking hell, if this is how my body reacts to the word now, I’m worried about what will happen the day I actually become her husband. She already has me wrapped around her little finger, has had for a while now, but her hold on me will tighten when that happens.
I’m not sure I mind. Not since I know I’ll get a good little wife in return.
“Hi, handsome,” Andrea greets me as she joins me in the living room.
To celebrate a month of being here, we’re having a special night with a fresh batch of margaritas, finger food, and a board game. It’s not that special, as it resembles most of our evenings here, but we’ve made an effort to make it a little more festive than usual. Plus, she’s officially allowed to drink again.
We spent a couple of hours together in the kitchen preparing everything, then she went up to change while I finished setting it all up and prepared our drinks.
She looks down at the black tank top she borrowed from me, skeptical. It looks like a dress on her—a very short dress. “This is the best I could do, sorry. You only packed comfortable clothing for me, so I had to improvise.” She spins around, showing me the claw clip in her back, holding the fabric to make it a better fit.
“No sling tonight?”
“I think I’m pretty much done with it. My shoulder barely hurts anymore.”
