Page 27 of Impending Consent

Oh you’ll definitely be getting something out of this. We both will.

For the past three hours I had been trying incredibly hard to focus on the table I was working on and had been somewhat successful but was still moving slower than normal. The table barely had my focus because the woman occupying my home did. Walking out of that room when I really wanted to toss Sailor onto the bed on her hands and knees and fuck her until we were both utterly exhausted was one of the hardest things I had ever endured. Well, besides the current state of my dick.

Rock fucking hard.

Knowing she was here, so close and also my wife, had my dick eager to engage in marital bliss, but I hadn’t lied. The need to be fiscally smart was important because I had a wife. My finances were good. I had a nice little chunk of change in my savings account. Great credit and equity in my home, but Sailor Addison…Hassan was a very wealthy woman and lived like one.

I wasn’t sure that would change now that she was my wife. Not that I expected her to assume I would foot the bill for her luxurious lifestyle, but as her husband, I felt responsible for doing so. My money was long, but hers was endless.

The two grand I was getting paid for this table, Sailor spent on shoes, a handbag, or hell, a trip to the spa without batting an eye. I wasn’t intimidated by my wife’s spending habits or her money. She couldn’t help who her family was or how she was raised. Nor could I be offended by how hard she worked. Whether or not her family was wealthy, Sailor was a damn good attorney who was compensated well for the work she did.

The issue was, as a man and her husband, I felt compelled to provide the things that made her happy. Right now, those things were very expensive. Her desire for those luxuries might never change, but I had a feeling it would when Sailor was loved properly and didn’t need those things for a temporary high which left her feeling empty.

Not to say she didn’t like nice things. She did, but she also used them to hide her true self. My goal was to love her enough so she didn’t want to hide. But even after, if she still wanted to drop ten grand on a purse, I was going to have to make a lot more custom pieces to support the habit. The thought made me smile because I would do the work to see her beautiful smile and not complain at all.

The next morning I was jarred from a peaceful state by the sound of slamming cabinets. The annoyance happened several times, stopped, then started again. I groaned, lifting a pillow which I jerked down forcefully over my face, hoping to block out the banging to no avail.

My wife was awake and angry and apparently wanted me to know. I exhaled the frustration from having only been asleep for a little over an hour considering Sailor functioned routinely, which meant it was after seven or close to it. I’d showered and stumbled into my bed just after six. When I finally found my rhythm with the piece I was working on, I decided to stay the course, considering my new wife had the next few days off, which meant I had access to her. There were a few things we needed to remedy, such as rings to seal the deal of our union and adjusting to our new normal.

After several more cabinets slammed, I threw the covers away from my body, swung my legs over the side of the bed, and sluggishly made my way to the bathroom to take a piss and make myself presentable. Not that it mattered because Sailor was my wife, for better or worse. Early mornings were a part of that deal, but I elected to put my best foot forward with Sailor.

When I reached the kitchen, I found the woman in question in the center of the room, fists balled and planted on her hips while a scowl marred her pretty face. When she felt my presence, a blazing glare was added to the equation. Adorably cute but not the warm welcome I was expecting.

“You don’t have coffee.”

“I don’t drink it.”

“I do,” she hissed, voice still raspy from just having awakened. “You’re failing miserably at this happy wife thing.”

At least she acknowledged herself as my wife. I’d consider that progress.

“We can go out for breakfast and do some shopping. I’m sure there will be other things I failed miserably at accommodating for.”

“It’s seven in the morning. I don’t want to go shopping. I want coffee.”

“Which you noted I don’t have. I can’t snap my fingers and magically make it appear.”

Her scowl deepened. “No you can’t, but you can order some with a few pecks and swipes of your fingers.”

“I could and it would be cold or at best lukewarm when it arrived. I don’t have to be a coffee drinker to know it’s best hot and fresh.”

“It’s too early for this shit,” she muttered, closing her eyes. When she responded and focused on me, she seemed much more reserved. “Fine, I’ll get my own damn coffee.”

“Wewill get coffee,” I corrected.

“I’m more than capable of getting my own. You don’t even drink it.”

“I don’t but we’re doing this together. Besides, I have a few things we need to get done. Might as well get started early so we can get it all out the way.”

“I thought you had a piece to finish.”

“I finished this morning, about an hour ago.”

She frowned and glared at me as if processing what I was saying. “You were up all night?”

“Yes, apparently my wife doesn’t like not feeling like a priority. I finished my piece and now I’m all yours. Since you have the next few days to get settled, I want to make every minute count.”

She stood silently processing and I assumed she would fight me on this, but instead, she agreed.

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