Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92133 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92133 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
What should I do? Should I put the blue dress on? Or this one? I didn’t choose this one, so that meant Andrei had been in the room and changed it. He wanted me to wear this.
If I wore this, would he be in a good enough mood for me to ask for some concessions? How did this work? I was so far out of my depth, it wasn’t cute or funny.
He could kill me easily, dispose of my body without anyone finding out. His wife could end up disappearing so easily. The Bratva were capable of it. They had many people on their payroll. Lawyers, judges, cops, their reach knew no bounds.
Sticking out my lip, I pouted. My husband’s life was now my life.
Reaching for the thong, I slid it on and up my body. I was a French knickers and briefs girl. I never wore a thong and this felt … weird. It slid between the cheeks of my ass, and I took a moment to glance in the mirror, checking out my ass. How could anyone call this lingerie? Sure, the main gusset fit nicely, but come on, it didn’t keep the ass contained.
I shook my head. There was no point in arguing. I wasn’t going to win. The dress had a zipper in the back and the way it was fitted meant I couldn’t zip it at the front and wriggle it into place. I was going to need Andrei’s help again.
With it settled into place, my back showing, I left the bedroom, and sure enough, Andrei was dressed again, looking every bit the wealthy businessman. The suit he wore fit him like a second skin. He had one hand shoved into his pocket, and the other typed away on his cell phone, without a single care in the world. His face was void of any expression.
I stepped toward him, cleared my throat, and he finally looked up. I don’t know how he did it, but every time he looked at me, I felt myself freezing up and my cheeks heating. We’d not had sex. We’d not done anything.
I spun around, presenting my back to him. “Could you please zip me?”
Pressing my lips together, I held my breath waiting for him. Why did this have to seem like a hard request? He was my husband. I imagine wives ask their husbands this all the time. Even boyfriends or girlfriends. There was nothing wrong with needing help with a zipper. I only hoped it fit me properly.
His fingers grazed the base of my back and I tensed up. I’m not a machine like him. I hadn’t spent a long time trying to school my face into doing what I told it to do. When I liked something, I smiled. When I hated it, I frowned. Something disgusting, my face scrunched up. This was who I was, and there was no changing it. Did he hate it? I had to wonder if he did.
He eased the zipper up my back and as he did, his touch seemed to set a path of fire along with it.
Again, I was still a virgin.
The day after our wedding night, he told me to pretend like he’d been fucking my pussy raw. I didn’t know what he expected, but being awkward came naturally to me. So, I’m not sure if I succeeded in what he suggested but from the few sad faces on the women, I was guessing it worked. Yay.
He finished lifting the zipper, but his touch lingered. One of his hands went to my waist and I tensed up. I wasn’t used to being touched. His breath fanned across my neck and my heart raced. What was he thinking? What was he doing? I didn’t know what to say or do to make this situation stop.
“There are heels in the box,” he said.
I glanced down and sure enough, to my left was a box. I bent down and didn’t realize how close he was standing, and that my ass actually nestled against his crotch. Standing back up, I moved quickly, this time crouching down as far as the tight dress would allow. I opened the box and looked at the red, shiny shoes. I was not someone who knew fashion. They looked painful and expensive. I wasn’t going to ask him for a pair of sneakers.
Walking in the small heels on my wedding day had been a challenge. Whenever I could, I’d snuck away to take the shoes off. When I realized how long my dress was, I’d toed them off and walked around barefoot. Until my mother realized what I was doing, and told me to stop being an animal and to wear the damn shoes.
Sliding my feet into these heels, I knew I wasn’t going to make it past the night without breaking my neck. They were way too high.