I think in the beginning I was testing him, that’s what all the shopping was about. But he never bat a lash. Not even when I spent seven thousand dollars on a dress. That shit had made me sick to my stomach and I’d planned to return it. I was just testing his theory that I could spend as much as I want and he wouldn’t get mad.
But he’d had me try on the hot little red number and long story short, unless I find a kickass seamstress to put that shit back together, nobody was taking that shit back. He’d ordered another one the next day.
He’s a freak for red. I don’t know what that’s about but I’m telling you if we have serious plans to go somewhere I won’t be putting on anything red, and that happens to be my favorite color. Twice now he’s taken me down after one look at me in a red dress. Weird.
We were settling in well all things considered, except for this old prune faced nutcase. I’d expected her to be a little put out especially once he explained that Brittany had been her choice, but nothing could’ve prepared me for this shit.
She’s slick too, she only shows her true colors when her son’s back is turned. Except for those times she can’t help herself and something slips out. Her favorite topic of conversation is how much better her son could’ve done. Only she doesn’t come right out and say it in so many words.
This old bat could hem and haw all she liked, as long as I keep fucking the living shit out of her boy she wasn’t getting rid of me. I just have to figure out how to live with her constant bullshit without pulling out every hair on my head or hers.
It had been three weeks since Chance had found me in that restaurant. She had a problem with the fact that everything had happened so fast. She even had the audacity to say that people didn’t have to get married these days because they’d made a horrible mistake. In other words she thought her son had married me because he’d knocked me up.
Hadn’t she ever heard of a whirlwind romance? I guess someone as uptight as her pampered ass wouldn’t believe in such things, but the truth is as much shit as I gave him in the beginning, I took one look and fell hard.
I’m not sure what his reality is about our first meeting, he still hasn’t told me how he came to be there asking for me specifically that first night. He’s not big on talking. I should’ve figured that one out from the proposal.
The memory of the way he’d simply walked into the restaurant, told me to follow him and told me on our way to the car that we were going to get married still gives me goose bumps.
Since returning home though I’ve come to learn so much more about him. Things that couldn’t be found in the gossip rags. I knew who he was that night of course, every female under eighty did. And I knew what being married to him could mean for a girl like me, but I had no idea, not really.
Money, power, respect, those things put you in a whole other category. Superficial yes, but it’s real. When we go out anywhere it’s amazing to see how everyone caters to him, and by extension, me.
I remember the day that first week back when I walked into a high end handbag store. I wasn’t looking like a bum, I never do, but I hadn’t been shopping yet and I guess my old wardrobe wasn’t up to par for Buckhead.
Chance had gone into some specialty shop for hundred dollar shaving cream and I’d made a beeline for the store which was right next door.
I was in the middle of explaining to the sales lady that I wanted to see a particular bag, while she was busy being a twat fungus and telling me how much it cost, meaning I couldn’t afford it. She refused to even take it off the shelf.
He’d come in unannounced and wrapped his arm around me, greeted her by name because I found out after the fact that he’d bought bags there for his mom, and given her hell. “My wife asked to see that one.” She fell all over her feet then after shooting me a look of disbelief.
We walked out of there with four bags, all bought from a different sales assistant of course. One who was now my personal assistant whenever I wanted something from the store.
He’d been so forceful, so protective, that my girly bits laid down at his feet. I’d sat on his dick in the back of the limo, which he said was more suitable for shopping. I always did like a man who could take control, or so I always thought. But this one likes to take me over completely and he does it with such ease. Damn!
Shit, this crypt keeper bitch was going on and on about the saintly ex and I just came on myself. One quick look showed the smirk on his face; he knew, he always knows. Damn.
I had twitchy parts and this bitch’s drone was making my teeth itch. I looked at Chance again to see if he was going to step in but he was doing that thing where he meticulously cuts his steak.
I know he does that shit when he’s concentrating on something, or studiously ignoring it. I just wasn’t sure which we were dealing with tonight. I’d come to know him very well in our little time together, and though he pretends to be all laid back and cool, he doesn’t miss shit. So I know he can see what troggy was doing.
Now this man has grown to me too over the past few weeks, and he knows I can only take but so much bullshit. He also knows my mouth hasn’t had a cover since the fifth grade because my mom had told him during one of their nightly phone calls where he pumped her for information.
When we got back home, and I’d freaked at the size of the house and the ritzy neighborhood he expected me to live in with the snooty ass women that looked at me like I was the help when I was out for my morning jog, he’d assured me that all will be well and that I’d get my bearings soon. He didn’t tell me that his mother was bat shit crazy though, because that shit might’ve tipped the scales.
“So you’re not gonna do anything?”
“Eat Alana.”
“…And Brittany was always well dressed for dinner, she was always very well put together, very much the lady.” She sniffed after this little recitation, which I supposed was for me.
I looked at him to give him one more chance. Now he was watching me like a cat with a mouse, as if he was waiting to see how I would handle her. Big mistake.
“And one thing about my daughter in law, she knew which silverware went with what dish.” Alright that’s it. I’ve had enough of her shit, she got one more chance to say some off colored shit to me and she was gonna get it.
“I ran into Brittany and her mother today. She’s still very upset over this whole business son. I don’t…”
“She was a skanky ho-bag who fucked everything on two legs and the jury is still out on the ones on four. And she was never your daughter in law, your son’s only had one wife…me. Now get the fuck out of my face with this shit.”
I didn’t turn around at the choking sounds coming from my husband. I was too busy watching his mother swallow her tongue as her eyes all but popped out of her head. These rich people really need to get a grip.
I know what her problem is. She doesn’t have the guts to come out and say it, but I’d already heard the whispers. More than the fact that I was a college dropout working at a restaurant for tips, it was my smooth brown hide that had her panties in a twist.
“Well I never.” She was back on her shit again. “You never what you sanctimonious bitch? Didn’t anybody ever teach you any manners? You’d think with all this money you’d have had at least one etiquette lesson. Even I know you don’t sit at someone else’s dinner table and act the damn fool.”
I was talking really fast now to get it all out, because this has been a few days coming. Chance hadn’t said or done anything since he choked on his five dollar a bottle water, and I don’t trust his nutty ass no how.
Old horse face was fit to be tied. “Son aren’t you going to tell this…this person she’s not allowed to speak to me like this?” She puffed up her chest and her face had become an ugly shade of puce.
“You’re both adults mother, at least I think you are. All I ask is that there be no bloodshed, at least not at the dinner table.” Oh shit, he was using that cultured tone of his, which meant some shit was about to jump off.
>
I’ve only heard that tone once before and would never forget the ice that ran down my spine when I’d heard it. He’d been talking to some dude that had got a little too close to me.
That was my first clue to his jealous streak. I never thought it would be used on me though, and definitely not this soon, but something’s gotta give or I’ma chuck the bride of Chucky out the damn upstairs window.
You see for the past four days since she’s been back from wherever the hell she’d gone to recuperate from the news that her son had married a sister, this hag from the depths of Hades has found her ass over here like she didn’t have a home. Trifling twit.
Her excuse was that she was helping me get settled in, but so far all I can see is her trying to make me crazy.
“I’ve never been treated this poorly at my own dinner table in my life.” She huffed; so bitch go home, wait a minute.
“Your dinner table?” I looked at him then because there’s no way I was living with this nut bag. He wasn’t even breaking a sweat; just easy as you please, he lifted his wine glass to his lips and with his eyes looking dead into mine took a sip.
These two people are trying to kill me. Oh well, since he wasn’t going to do anything I guess it was all me. Had she shown me an ounce of decency in the past four days I would’ve been kinder. But since she saw nothing wrong with treating me like shit she could suck it.
“I thought you had your own house. As far as I know this is my dinner table. You wouldn’t like me to sit here talking about the women your husband bagged on the regular when he was alive…” Good, the bitch almost choked on a piece of chicken; at least it’ll keep her yap shut for the next two minutes.
I heard the chair scrape back and thought he was getting up to go save her, because if it was left up to me that twat-muncher would die where she sat, hateful hag. Instead I felt his lips on my ear. “Upstairs, now.”
Well shit! I was just getting started. I wasn’t dumb enough to disobey him though. Since our wedding night I’ve known this one’s got a bit of the devil in his ass too. He can get a bit nutty when he doesn’t get his way.
And what’s this shit with him sitting there saying nothing while she insults me? He’s lucky he fucks like a Trojan, doesn’t get tired, and his touch makes me forget my own name or I’d be out the damn door.
How the hell do I get myself into these things anyway? I left the table with my head held high and didn’t look at either one of them. I felt a little better when I cleared the door and heard him tell her to can it though.
I wish I was brave enough to hide behind the big ass doors and listen, but somehow I knew I was in enough trouble as it is. Like I said, I’ve been getting to know hubby very well.
He wasn’t long in coming up the stairs after me. I was pacing back and forth worrying about what he was going to do. It was only here in the privacy of our rooms that the full weight of what I’d just done set in.
Why couldn’t I keep my mouth shut just this once? Just one old woman on her last leg and I couldn’t hack it. I let her get to me, shit. No doubt he’s gonna ask me to leave.
My tummy hurt so bad at the thought, to never see him again…
He came into the room and I dropped onto the side of the bed. My legs had given out but I played it off like I was doing my retiring diva act. He didn’t need to know that I was terrified.
He didn’t say anything for the longest time, just stood there after closing and locking the door, like he was waiting for something.
“Get up.” He started walking towards me then as he begun unbuttoning his shirt. I didn’t know what the hell was going on, but when he walked up to me and ripped my new designer dress down the middle like it was tissue paper, I figured things were about to get interesting.
“What’re you doing Chance Winthrop?” I tried covering my tits but he had already moved on. One of his big hands came down between my thighs and cupped my girly bits. It felt like he was lifting me by my snatch the way he had it grabbed up like he was afraid it would run away.
I didn’t have time to say anything more before I found myself flat on my back with his head buried between my legs. “Oooh…shit…wait.” Who was I kidding? My eyes were already crossed in my head.
He took long, slow, broad swipes of the kitty with that lethal tongue of his but I noticed he was deliberately missing my clit. “Quit playing.” I tried to move his head to where I wanted it but all I got was a slap on my hip for my troubles.
From his movements I knew he was struggling to open his pants and my mouth started to water. When I was a college student messing around with my girls practicing fellatio on a banana I never knew that it wasn’t nearly as accurate as the real thing, or that I would one day become addicted to having my husband’s dick in my mouth.
He had other ideas though it seemed, because the next thing I knew he was forcing that club inside me. There’s always that slight discomfort when he first slides in, but once he gets past the tightness of my lips it’s all-good.
“Wait, Chance.” Oh shit, what’s he doing? In the few weeks we’ve been married, I have to say he’s never once touched me with anything but tenderness, even when he loses control and pounds me too hard. There was nothing tender about this shit. I was inclined to believe he was trying to kill me with his overgrown dick.
He knew how to make my body sing though, whether hard or soft, and it wasn’t long before I felt his fingers on my clit. He kept stopping just when I was feeling good and I seriously wanted to bite the shit out of him and pull every hair out of his head at the roots. This sex thing was serious business and he was fucking around.
I kinda got the gist of what he was up to when I felt his body tighten up the way it does when he’s about to cum. My favorite part, I like feeling him cumming inside me, especially since he says I’m the only woman he’s ever actively tried to breed. I didn’t ask about the ex, fuck her.
But now he was about to cum without me. Things really became clear when he pulled out and sprayed all over my tummy before climbing off me and heading into the en suite bathroom. He closed and locked the door. Lucky for him or I would drop a plugged in radio in that shit with his ass.
Ain’t nothing though selfish ass. I was just about to finish myself off when the door slammed open. “If you touch yourself I’ll tan your ass.”
“What, it’s my snatch.” Damn, I was frustrated as shit, I was right there, just a couple of good strokes with the digits and I’ll be good to go.
“You’ve been warned.” He turned and went back in, closing the door between us again. Asshole! What the hell had gotten into him anyway? I felt like crying with relief that he hadn’t thrown me out on my ass. But then my pussy would tingle and I’d get mad at his ass all over again.
I laid there reasoning with myself while my hoo-hah throbbed with need. How would he know if I did it or not? I started to ease my fingers down to my snatch but something told me not to do it or I’ll get worse, so I stopped. “Good girl.”
What the fuck? I looked around to see where the hell his voice came from but saw nothing. The more I laid there thinking, the more I realized what he’d done and why.
So he thought fucking me into oblivion and leaving me high and dry was punishment for what I’d said to his momma dearest. This shit was only going to make me go after her ass harder. Let her say one more damn wrong word, I’ma plant my foot up her ass I don’t care what he does.
Shit this no cumming thing was the pits, my tummy was starting to hurt. I threw a shoe at the damn door and can’t say I was all that surprised to hear his chuckle coming from some place in the room.
I felt like I was in an old Hitchcock flick. Somehow he could see me but I didn’t know how. Maybe that’s why he’d married a girl that no one would’ve expected him to. That way when Norman Bates and ‘mother’ do my ass in no one would notice.
This was our first real disagreement. Everything since the day we met has been amazing. He’s treated me the way no one else ever had. So good
in fact that there were many times in the past three weeks that I’d wake up in the middle of the night, thinking it was a dream.
Only to look over to the warm body next to me and see his amazing face. Now we were home, the home I’d been weaving dreams around only to have it marred by Gollum.
Just for that, tomorrow if that bitch is still here I’m putting Visine in her damn tea, this is some eighteenth century shit and I ain’t having it.
I didn’t speak to him for the rest of the evening even though he dragged me off to the entertainment room to watch a movie.
You see, that’s the problem, these people have way too much damn money. Why the hell would you need a movie theatre in your house when you don’t invite people over to watch movies?
The house is the size of a football field and still it’s chocked full of shit, most of it old. I had the feeling that if I even thought of changing anything the old bag would have a coronary, speaking of which.
“Where’s Cruella?” He gave me the squinty eye like he was trying to place the name.
“Who?”
“Your incubator.” He didn’t like that if the long drawn out sigh was anything to go by. “You like being punished, is that it?”
As soon as he said it I felt that slight twinge in my tummy. I still needed to cum in the worst way, but Mussolini had eyes and ears all over the damn place and I am so sure that he’d know if I snuck one in. I couldn’t even do it when I took a shower earlier.
I pouted at his question and kept my tongue behind my teeth; no sense in making it worse. Everybody and their mama knew that old hag was a mean ass witch. “Does she really live here? I thought…”
“No she does not, but if she did you would find a way to deal with it wouldn’t you princess?” I sneered at his demented ass. “So when is she leaving?” He pinched my side and ignored my question.
“If she’s still here come bedtime I can’t promise that she’d live out the night. I refuse to put up with any more of her bullshit and you…”
I was tossed to my back on the couch with a very angry man leaning over me, pressing me down. “Alana, you will not behave this way. I’ve already had a talk with mom and she promised to behave herself. You will also behave your ass or you will get worse than that little teaser I gave you earlier.
The Billionaire's Wife Page 6
