Page 89 of Cruelest Contract
I woke up early, as always. But today my wife’s gorgeous naked body was stretched out beside me and I watched her sleep for a little while. Jealousy stabbed at me over the idea that any other man has ever seen her like this. No one ever will again.
Keeping in mind all the ways I’d exhausted her the night before, I crept out of bed to let her rest beneath her cozy weighted blanket and sat in the kitchen nook to review the latest security footage and take a look at my messages. Lately our affiliates have reaching out to me more often when their pleas to my father are ignored. They are smart to word their requests carefully. No one would dare suggest that Cass Tempesta is losing his edge.
Soon enough, Cecilia rolled over in her sleep with a breathy moan and I couldn’t stay away anymore. My tongue was between her legs by the time she was fully awake. She came within twominutes and was still quivering when I carried her to the shower and fucked her against the wall. I hadn’t brought a condom along so when I got close, I pulled out to finish with my hand.
But my wife stopped me. She flashed a knowing smirk as water beat down on our heads. And then she dropped to her knees and took me in her mouth.
As I watched her swallow, I understood for the first time why the past is speckled with tales of men who’d set entire kingdoms on fire for their women.
I wouldn’t hesitate to do this and more, all for her.
I’m still working on putting together a rather eclectic brunch when the bathroom door swings open. Cecilia emerges with her long hair newly dry and floating halfway down her back. She’s wearing a simple yet sexy dress in a light shade of pink with thin straps and stretchy fabric that molds to all the best places on her body. She’s not wearing a bra.
Fucking perfection. I know I’m staring. I have no plans to stop.
Cecilia laughs at the sheer volume of food spread out on the table. “Did you haul out every leftover dish that was in the fridge?”
I pull out a chair for her. “I didn’t know what you’d be in the mood for so take your pick. Enzo will send more food over today.”
“Are we eating here?”
“Sure. Where else?”
Instead of sitting, she slides her arms around my waist and smiles up at me. “Maybe there’s a better option.”
My dick is highly interested but I don’t want to give her the impression I’m insatiable.
Then again, I’ve just spent three days proving that this isexactlywhat I am.
I pluck a frothy looking flower from a nearby vase, break most of the stem off and tuck it behind her right ear. “We could eat out on the balcony. Would you like that?”
Her fingers touch the flower in her hair and her smile grows brighter. “I found a picnic basket in the pantry yesterday. Can we have a picnic by the creek?”
She kills me with requests like this. Making her happy is so easy that I can’t help but feel amazed. I’ll never refuse her.
We pack up a picnic of cold chicken, Caprese salad and fruit. Cecilia brings a throw blanket and fans it out on a grassy strip near the water.
The creek bubbles along at a slow, steady speed. She kneels on the blanket and watches the water. A breeze lifts strands of her hair as she gazes dreamily at the scene.
This girl belongs in a painting. She should be immortalized. Worshipped. I’d stare at her forever and never get bored.
“How deep is the water?” she asks.
“Less than three feet in the center right now.” I unscrew a thermos of sweetened iced tea. “It’s shallow but it can get a lot more swollen after some hard rain so keep that in mind.”
“Not deep enough to swim in, I guess,” she says. “I meant to ask, is there a gym with a pool in Vigilance?”
“There is not,” I admit, remembering what she told me about how swimming is her physical therapy. I’m planning to surprise her but I don’t want to mention it just yet.
“Oh well.” She smiles and accepts a glass of iced tea. The flower is still in her hair. The right strap of her dress shifts slightly and kickstarts my pulse.
My eyes swerve lower to roam over the contours of her breasts. I love how she’s no longer modest around me, foregoing a bra, even allowing the scars on her left leg to show without rearranging her dress.
“What are you looking at, Julian?” she teases and pops a marble-sized ball of mozzarella cheese into her mouth.
“I’m looking at my wife.” And I’ll look all I want.
Confronted with my blunt stare, her eyelashes flutter and her cheeks flush.
