I let out a grunt, kick the dress with anger and begrudgingly pick it up off the floor. I walk to what Enzo told me was my closet, once inside he was right that all my items are all hung up neatly and organized by color. Can I say that someone has a touch of OCD? The woman’s urge in me wants to rip everything off the hangers and leave a big pile on the floor, but that would not be very good mafia wife behavior. And plus, I may think I could do it, however I’m too nervous to act out. My shoes do end up in the middle of the closet before I spin on my heels to head to the bathroom. I want to take a shower and scrub away the dried blood.
The light turns on the moment my foot crosses the threshold. Nerveless, I walk farther into the bathroom, my eyes widen at the high ceilings, the black and white marble from floor to ceiling. The large window toward the opposite side looks over the estates pond with the claw-foot tub right beneath it. All I can think about is how a hot bath would feel right now. Out ofthe corner of my eye, I spot his and hers vanity stretches across the whole left side of the room, and the shower is in the middle of the room. A large walk-in shower bathing chamber has glass all the way around, black trimmed glass doors, and a remote shower heads that spray in every single direction. This shower could easily fit two people inside comfortably.
I spin on my heels to the mirror above the vanities to see what I look like after everything today. The loose waves in my hair have gone flat, my lips are smudged from Enzo’s kiss and my mascara has smeared under my eyes. My gaze trails down to the not so delicate piece of clothing that I wore underneath my wedding dress. A strapless white lingerie, a sheer lining from the middle of my chest down to my navel, and the saffron ruffles along the hip line. My breasts are one deep breath away from popping completely out, the middle highlights the rolls I have on my stomach, and how they are spilling out from the underwear line. I know if I turn around, I will have a full view of my very cellulite-covered ass.
I lift my left hand to watch my ring sparkles against the light, I drag it across my chest, trying to figure out how in the world I’m going to make any of this work. I tilt my head up to the ceiling fighting the tears that want to fall down my face. There is a wave of emotions coursing through me, and I finally have a moment to actually feel. I lower my head back to the mirror and everything comes out as I cannot keep it inside any longer. I reach behind my bodysuit, unzip it, letting it fall off my body and pool at my feet.
My feet carry me over to the bathtub, I turn on the faucet to as hot as I can get the water. I want to feel the sting when I lower myself into the water. There is a jar off to side on a small table next to the tub with some soaps. I pick one up and pour it into the water. The scent of lavender and chamomile hit my nostrils,and my body calms down. The bubbles grow and grow until they are almost overflowing the tub.
I shut the water off, move one leg over the tub, and I let out a hiss at the burning sensation of the water against my skin. Then, I swing the other leg over, I slowly lower myself, my face scrunching up with every inch until my whole body up to my neck is fully under the wall of bubbles. I tilt my head back and try to calm my mind, but there are dark brown eyes haunting me since the first night I met him.
Behind the bubble fortress, my head resting on the top of the tub, I let my mind drift back to the first night that I met Enzo at the party. The way he looked at me was as if he saw through me, which had my stomach fluttering. The intensity in his gaze had my body humming with excitement that I have never felt before from anyone. If I could have, I would’ve stayed and talked to him all evening. I drag my hand down the front of my chest wishing that they were a pair of strong, calloused, and inked hands. It’s not the first time I have touched myself since meeting Enzo. My hand dips lower and lower. I graze over the rolls of my stomach then down to top of my pussy before my fingers push through my folds to my throbbing clit.
The need to feel, not think and release the stress from today.
My fingers start to swirl, my hips move underneath the water and my back arches. I think back to the kiss today at the altar. His soft full lips against mine. The way he held me as he took control of our kiss. My first kiss. To feel his tongue brushing against mine, our bodies pressed together was so sexy.
I moan, my voice echoing off the granite floor and walls. I swirl my fingers more and faster as the pressure builds in the lower part of my stomach. I don’t want to stop. The pressure becomes too much. My body begins to thrash, making the water spill out the sides of the tub and my voice grows louder.
“Oh my god!” I cry out, panting. “Yes, Enzo.”
I imagine it’s his callous hands and fingers circling my clit, telling me how much he wants me. Him grazing his teeth and lips down my neck to chest as he takes one of my hard nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it. Him whispering against my skin.
I circle my clit once more, and then I feel it throb against my fingers. My body thrashes more and more. My cries are louder and louder.
My fingers slow their speed, and I stay like for this, which feels like an eternity. My head tilt back, my fingers still on my clit, and my eyes open as I float back into my body.
I realized a few things…
One, I just orgasmed in my new husbands bathroom and called out his name.
Two, I masturbated to the thought of having sex with my new husband.
And three, this can never a happen again.
My body feels extra warm with something heavy over me, and I can’t move. I try to turn my body, but the hot breath against my neck has me frozen in place. My eyes pop open in a panic, I slowly lift the comforter and see a very tattooed arm draped over my body. My sleep shirt has risen up with his arm across my stomach and his hand is resting underneath my chest. The sensation between my legs that I felt last night when I was in the tub is there again. I try to squeeze my legs together and it only makes his grip tighter on me, pulling me closer. There issomething poking into my ass. Oh my god, his dick is pressing into me. My eyes shut closed from embarrassment.
I try to not make any movement or a sound, keep my breathing soft and low as if I’m still asleep. My lids open again and turn down to look at my new husbands artwork, or well, some of it. His left hand has a rose taking up most of the space, thorns wrapped around it with droplets of what I believe is to be blood. The shading of the gray, black and shadowing of the tattoo pops against his tanned skin. I trail my gaze to the rest of his forearm that I can see without moving. I dare not risk waking the beast pressed against me.
The same design is echoed on his wrists that connect the rest of the artwork. It’s a mixture of compasses, skulls, and thrones from what I can see. The intricate way the designs blend together with the shading, contrast and details is beautiful. Before I know it, my fingers reach out and lightly graze the one on his hand. My tips start to follow the throne on the rose when I hear him groan behind me, pulling me closer as his dick presses even more into my ass. I freeze and retract my hand.
To avoid the risk of him knowing I’m awake, or that I touched him, is not something that I want to in counter. I’m not afraid of my husband or what he will do to me. I’m afraid of how my body reacts to him. I have never been with a man let alone one who has touched me. Yesterday was my first kiss ever in my life. Since the first night I met Enzo, it was as if my body came alive and hummed with excitement.
I close my eyes to pretend that I’m still asleep when I feel him start to wake. His hand flattens against my skin, sliding down to my hip then moving with curvature of the rolls of fat there. I cringe because what man wants to feel a woman’s fat rolls.
He groans again and whispers into my hair, “My wife.Amuri mui.”
My heart races. The way he says “wife” makes my skin breakout in goosebumps. I still at the name I heard him say yesterday, not sure on what it means. Though it has my stomach doing flip flops.
Ever so slowly he removes his arm from my body, kisses the top of my head, and rolls to the other side. The bed feels empty when he gets up. His feet moves across the floor and opens the bathroom door. Not long after, the shower runs on while I stay frozen in bed trying to figure a way to not be attracted to my husband.
It does not take me long to hear voices carrying up the staircase at the end of the hall where our room is. I head that way with hopes that I have found the kitchen to find some coffee. My wedges echo with each step as I make my way down the large stairs. The voices are growing louder and louder with each one I take.
“No, Gianna, for the hundredth time. You cannot go barging into my room to wake up Isabella.” My husband’s deep voice washes over me and I stop in my tracks. Shit, I was hoping I would not see him at all today.
A loud groan of annoyance comes from the woman. “Ugh, Enz. I’m chomping at the bit to meet my new sister-in-law We’re going to be best friends, so it’s fine. I have so many questions and I––”
“Just don’t bombard her with her twenty questions in a row.” His voice sounds stressed and tired. “I’m sure she will be done getting ready for the day shortly, okay?”
