nipples finding their way to me. I nip and pull at them with my teeth.
“Tell me something, Mrs. D,” I break briefly from my ministrations of her breasts to ask.
Her fingers are working magic, combing through my hair, massaging my scalp as I worship her body with my mouth. She musters up the energy to control her erratic breathing murmuring carefully controlled words, “Anything, Mr. D.”
I pull away to eye her, wriggling in my arms from pent-up sexual frustration.
“Which room do you want to christen first?” I ask.
This is the first night that V will be spending in my house, in our house, as my wife. I plan on bringing her to the point of insanity on every surface, every piece of furniture, and in every room of this house. Considering the size of the place, we’d better get started.
CHAPTER TWO
Sometime in between screaming out my name for the third time and having a cold sweat take over, my new wife passes out in my arms. Her deep, even, breathing gives evidence to her sleep. Her porcelain colored shoulders are relaxed, resting over my chest, her lips dormant, but perched over my heart.
Carefully, so carefully, I stroke my fingers over her silky smooth hair. Playing with the thick strands, weaving the tresses through my fingers, I do my best to soothe her as she dreams. This woman has given me everything. Everything I’ve been waiting for, preparing for, is in my arms.
I move my head to watch over her. Her dark, long, lashes tickle my chest and flutter themselves in just the tiniest way.
The top sheet of our bedding is strewn down low, having been kicked away when I tossed her on her back. I can feel her hot skin suddenly cooling next to mine. With as little movement as possible, I stretch my fingers down low to feel for the folded edge of fabric. It’s teasing me, just out of my reach, but I try with one last successful attempt to grab hold. Under the control of my hands, the cotton sheet is moved to bathe over her, covering her exposed flesh from the cool air of the room.
Closing my eyes tight, I brace myself for the possibility that I’ll wake her as I shimmy out from under her light frame. She makes a throaty moan from the disruption and readjusts her body.
I turn back to admire her, angled across our bed, her nakedness now covered by linens but nonetheless beautiful in its own right.
I slip through the darkness of our bedroom, stealthily throwing my bathrobe on and exiting through the lesser-known door to the private staircase leading to my office downstairs. I leave the light off, not wanting to risk waking her. I know these stairs by heart, in their circular pattern, having traveled them hundreds and hundreds of times in my sleepless nights, giving up on rest and relenting to the endless amount of work thrown at me.
Once on firm flooring, I turn the nearest lamp on and use the fireplace remote to bring the large stone structure to life, adding both warmth and light to the room. I resign myself to another sleepless night, but I don’t have to do it in the cold.
Bringing my computer to life, I sit back while the screen powers itself with bright, offending light. It’s not extremely late, but the house is quiet, peaceful. There’s no use in avoiding the inevitable, so I redial the phone number from earlier in the evening.
“Boss,” he’s animated, “I was gonna call you in the morning.”
I roll my eyes at the voice, “Pretty sure I told you to call me no matter the time, Nick.”
I can hear the hesitation in his voice. “Sorry, boss. I… I don’t have much yet. Whoever set this up is good. Covered their tracks better than I’ve seen in a long time. The address is registered to a bogus hosting service in the Ukraine. There’s no security certificate, no alternate routing. It’s… it’s-”
“Enough,” putting an end to his mumbo jumbo. “What’s in the site, Nick?”
There’s a pause. “It’s… you should probably check for yourself, sir.”
I’m beginning
“Tell me something, Mrs. D,” I break briefly from my ministrations of her breasts to ask.
Her fingers are working magic, combing through my hair, massaging my scalp as I worship her body with my mouth. She musters up the energy to control her erratic breathing murmuring carefully controlled words, “Anything, Mr. D.”
I pull away to eye her, wriggling in my arms from pent-up sexual frustration.
“Which room do you want to christen first?” I ask.
This is the first night that V will be spending in my house, in our house, as my wife. I plan on bringing her to the point of insanity on every surface, every piece of furniture, and in every room of this house. Considering the size of the place, we’d better get started.
CHAPTER TWO
Sometime in between screaming out my name for the third time and having a cold sweat take over, my new wife passes out in my arms. Her deep, even, breathing gives evidence to her sleep. Her porcelain colored shoulders are relaxed, resting over my chest, her lips dormant, but perched over my heart.
Carefully, so carefully, I stroke my fingers over her silky smooth hair. Playing with the thick strands, weaving the tresses through my fingers, I do my best to soothe her as she dreams. This woman has given me everything. Everything I’ve been waiting for, preparing for, is in my arms.
I move my head to watch over her. Her dark, long, lashes tickle my chest and flutter themselves in just the tiniest way.
The top sheet of our bedding is strewn down low, having been kicked away when I tossed her on her back. I can feel her hot skin suddenly cooling next to mine. With as little movement as possible, I stretch my fingers down low to feel for the folded edge of fabric. It’s teasing me, just out of my reach, but I try with one last successful attempt to grab hold. Under the control of my hands, the cotton sheet is moved to bathe over her, covering her exposed flesh from the cool air of the room.
Closing my eyes tight, I brace myself for the possibility that I’ll wake her as I shimmy out from under her light frame. She makes a throaty moan from the disruption and readjusts her body.
I turn back to admire her, angled across our bed, her nakedness now covered by linens but nonetheless beautiful in its own right.
I slip through the darkness of our bedroom, stealthily throwing my bathrobe on and exiting through the lesser-known door to the private staircase leading to my office downstairs. I leave the light off, not wanting to risk waking her. I know these stairs by heart, in their circular pattern, having traveled them hundreds and hundreds of times in my sleepless nights, giving up on rest and relenting to the endless amount of work thrown at me.
Once on firm flooring, I turn the nearest lamp on and use the fireplace remote to bring the large stone structure to life, adding both warmth and light to the room. I resign myself to another sleepless night, but I don’t have to do it in the cold.
Bringing my computer to life, I sit back while the screen powers itself with bright, offending light. It’s not extremely late, but the house is quiet, peaceful. There’s no use in avoiding the inevitable, so I redial the phone number from earlier in the evening.
“Boss,” he’s animated, “I was gonna call you in the morning.”
I roll my eyes at the voice, “Pretty sure I told you to call me no matter the time, Nick.”
I can hear the hesitation in his voice. “Sorry, boss. I… I don’t have much yet. Whoever set this up is good. Covered their tracks better than I’ve seen in a long time. The address is registered to a bogus hosting service in the Ukraine. There’s no security certificate, no alternate routing. It’s… it’s-”
“Enough,” putting an end to his mumbo jumbo. “What’s in the site, Nick?”
There’s a pause. “It’s… you should probably check for yourself, sir.”
I’m beginning
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