Page 46 of Marrying My Ex's Boss

“It’s beautiful.” It felt peaceful there in his arms. I didn’t feel as self-conscious as I thought I would. It felt natural like we’d been here before.

“Are you very sore, baby? I put some numbing cream inside you to help ease the pain.”

“Marcus, don’t talk about that.” I hid my face in his chest.

“Come on, baby, don’t be like that. Fine, if you don’t want me to talk about rubbing cream in your sore pussy I won’t.” I covered his mouth with my hand and we both broke out in laughter.

“You hungry?”

“I think so.”

“What do you feel like having?”

“I don’t know, you pick.”

“I’ll ask you again when you’re ready.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that you’ve gotten into the habit of putting yourself last. You’ve been programmed to put the needs of others before yours. With me, you don’t ever have to do that. It’s my turn to put you first, even if you can’t do it for yourself.”

“I don’t think I know how.”

“Then I’ll teach you. Soon, you’ll know what it means to have everything at your fingertips within reason. It’ll become second nature to you to want the best for yourself sometimes.”

“I don’t think I know what that feels like.”

“That’s because you’re selfless. But sometimes that shit gets old quick. I won’t let that happen with us. So, tell me, what do you want to eat?”

“I want a burger and fries and a strawberry milkshake.”

“Done!”

‘Get the lobster bitch and some champagne.’

* * *

“Oh, my goodness, what kind of cow is this?”

“Grass-fed Highland Angus.” Rich people are sickening. I thought we were rich, Paul and me, but this is ridiculous. Everything tastes ten times better. It’s like they have some kind of secret society where they keep all the good shit from us lesser beings.

My burger, made by his in-house chef, was a thing of art. Even the cheese and caramelized onions tasted better than any I’d ever had before. My shake was made with some strawberry from Japan that was actually white and was sweet as all get out. It tasted a little bit like pineapple, though, but the way it was made, with whipped cream and strawberry syrup drizzled on top, hit the spot.

My mouth was covered in grease and ketchup before I realized what I was doing. I looked around the large open area that was the breakfast nook and couldn’t imagine living in such luxury all the time. I’d be afraid to touch anything.

‘Trifling ass heifer. Get your shit together because I’m not going back to that dump you call a home. If you don’t want it, let me outta here, and I sure the fuck….’

“Is your twin harassing you again? What’s his problem this time?”

‘Hey Daddy, hey. I’m not the one with the problem. You done broke this one in half, and she lost all her damn senses. Good dick is wasted on some people.’

“I can’t tell you what he’s saying, or you’d think I’m crazy.”

“Try me!” Is he for real? How embarrassed does he want me to be?

“I was thinking that this place is so posh I wouldn’t be comfortable touching anything for fear that I might break it or dirty it or something.”

“And what did your twin say?”

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