Page 33 of His Wife

I lean back in my seat, pretending to participate in the conversation while feeling her arousal increase, coating my fingers. Her thighs clench, her lips part, and sweat beads at her temples. She’s close. I can feel it as I slip inside her wet little hole, how her body sucks my finger into her. I’m one stroke away from making her come when she darts up from her seat, leaving my hand cold and void of her drenched cunt.

“Ladies, I haven’t had a chance to visit the hotel boutique yet. Who wants to join me while the men smoke cigars and measure their dicks?”

There’s dead silence before Daniela bursts out laughing. “Oh, my God. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to say those words.” She, too, stands from her seat. “At every dinner party, right before the women get excused, those exact words always burn the tip of my tongue. So I’m glad one of us has finally had the balls to say it.”

“I like her, Alexius,” Milana says between laughs. “The three of us are going to have a lot of fun tonight.”

“Speaking of,” I stand and face the three women, “instead of going to the boutique, I’ve arranged for a private viewing up in our suite where they’ll showcase their collection.”

Leandra lifts a brow at me. Did she really think I’d let her go to the first floor alone? Sure, I could send Maximo and some of his security down with them, but the last thing I want is unnecessary attention surrounding my wife. And judging by the way Saint and Gian look at me, they’re thinking the same thing, approval etched on their faces.

“That’s so considerate of you, Alexius,” Daniela says as she picks up her glass of champagne.

I reach out and gently take Leandra’s elbow in my hand before pulling her close, bringing my lips to her ear. “That’s twice you’ve denied me tonight,” I whisper, my tone firm. “Now I’ll have to return the favor.”

ChapterFourteen

LEANDRA

I’m looking at dresses and blouses, skirts and coats. It’s a bombardment of colors as my fingers trace over fabrics while I pretend to be interested in buying more clothes when I already have a wardrobe bigger than Japan back home. I’ve told Alexius a thousand times that I don’t need more clothes, only to have Mirabella add more items the following day. And now, while laughing and chatting with Milana and Daniela, all I can think of is Alexius and what he said to me before we left the lounge.

“That’s twice you’ve denied me tonight. Now I’ll have to return the favor.”

It’s a threat, a promise, a vow to make me pay for denying him twice. First, when I clenched my thighs together, refusing him access when he had his strong, rough hand travel up the inside of my thigh—yet I eventually welcomed his touch only to squirm in my seat. And second, when I wouldn’t let him make me come while he fingered me at the dinner table with his friends around. It’s not like I didn’t want him to. With every bone in my body, I wanted him to push me over the edge, but I couldn’t guarantee I’d be able to keep a straight face while an orgasm tore through me.

“So,” Daniela started, flipping her red curls over her shoulder as she takes a seat, pouring herself another glass of champagne. “For how long after the wedding did you hate him?”

I balk, not entirely sure what’s happening right now, nervous energy flapping its wings in my stomach.

Milana smiles, slanting a brow as she looks my way. “It’s okay. You can trust us. Both Daniela and I hated our husbands at first, for different reasons—a discussion for a different day. But somehow, these damn men just found a way to rip our hearts open and imprint themselves in every single cell.”

“And drove us crazy with their hot and cold bullshit,” Daniela adds. “Until they finally came to their senses and stopped playing dirty.” She scoffs, and her eyes glaze over as she stares into the distance. “At the beginning, I was convinced our hate for each other would end up destroying us both. It almost did.”

Milana nods in agreement. “I was sure I’d never be able to fall in love with a man like Saint, not after what he did to me. But love works in mysterious ways, I guess. We can’t choose who we love.”

I shrug. “The heart wants what it wants, I guess.”

“Exactly.” She licks her lips after taking a sip of her champagne, placing the flute on the glass table next to her. “So, what’s your story? How did you and Alexius meet? But more importantly, how much did you hate him on your wedding day?” Milana and Daniela snicker, and I know I could become friends with these two women. We seem to have so much in common, and I guess if I choose to have a life with a man like Alexius, I’ll need friends like them.

“Well,” I start, sitting on the sofa across from them, “Alexius and I didn’t meet in what would be seen as a conventional way.”

“Of course you didn’t.” Milana smirks. “I met Saint in a hotel room after he shot and killed who I thought was my friend. Daniela, she met Gian on their wedding day. Nothing about our husbands is conventional, I can promise you that.”

“Jesus,” I mutter. “You ladies make my story of a man shoving a black envelope down the front of my waitress uniform seem like a dream come true.” All three of us burst out laughing, the bubbles of the champagne popping on my tongue and making me loopy. “And I hated him a lot on our wedding day. A lot.”

“Ahem.” Alexius clears his throat, and I jump to my feet. Milana and Daniela leisurely look over at him standing in the foyer with Gian and Saint flanking him. All three men have an aura of power around them, their pristine Armani suits emblazed with fluorescent lighting while sex appeal ripples off them in waves that can tip the fucking Richter scale. The other girls hardly seem bothered by the fact that our husbands might have overheard our conversation—and judging by Alexius’ look, he definitely heard.

“Ladies, I think it’s time to call it a night,” Alexius says, tightening his cuffs. Gian merely lifts a brow at Daniela, and she’s on her feet, while Saint simply nods in Milana’s direction and she’s at his side in record time. Talk about a complete one-eighty.

“Alexius,” Saint says, straightening his suit jacket, “we’ll talk soon.”

Our four guests step into the elevator, and Alexius loosens his tie, unbuttoning his collar. “You, too, Maximo,” he orders, and I see Maximo standing to the far right, then swiftly moving to get in the elevator with the others.

The steel doors close, the chime resounding like a gunshot through the room, ripping through the tension thickening with every second that passes. Alexius stares at me in silence, anger and lust warring inside him, as if he can’t decide if he wants to sink his teeth into my flesh or tear my goddamn dress off.

“Alexius, I—”

He places his finger on his lips, a simple act that demands my silence.

---