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Don’t overthink it. It’s simple. It wasn’t an one-eighty overnight change like you said. You told me what you wanted, and I applied it. That’s all.”
She nods as she digests my statement. “Option A takes me to the master bedroom, sex, and a bullshit prenup? And Option B takes me to my own room, a name only marriage, but an annulment in five months?”
I wave my hand from side to side. I’ve just decided to make changes. “Close. A renegotiation of the prenup instead of an annulment. I meant what I said earlier. I already moved your shit in, you’re stuck with me.”
Stunned, she sits back in her chair. “You can’t take annulment off the table!”
“Can and have,” I push back.
“So, you’re not allowing me to break up with you?”
“I’ve already framed our wedding picture. Besides, I’ve been your fantasy most of your life, now you get to see what it’s like to have me.”
Karessa seethes like she wants to fight me. I wish she’d try. It’ll only end with her cuming. I adjust my dick at the thought of it. Her fist clenches, but she remains in places.
“Then, what’s the difference besides a delay in sex?”
“See, you’re focused on the wrong part. We’re married either way. The first option is on my dad’s terms, and the second is on yours. Divorce is an option to revisit later. In summary, fuck me now and look over your shoulder for the next fifteen years wondering if or when I’ll try to divorce you, or fuck me five months from now on better legal terms.”
“And the separate rooms?”
“To protect your virtue.”
“I’m not a virgin.”
I shrug although I wish to go back in time and choke every man who’s touched her, which is irrational depending on when she lost it. She would have had to be eighteen before I would have even considered touching her. Her virginity wasn’t mine to take.
“May as well be. You won’t know what it’s like to be truly fucked until you’ve had me. The last man may have had you begging for more, but you won’t need to with me. You’ll be too tired to beg for more. If you beg, it’ll be for mercy.” Standing, I flatten my palms on the cool surface while holding her gaze. “I’ll have you soaked in your own sweat and pussy juices while I fuck you until you pass out, revive you, then do it all over again.” She balks, but her shallow breathing and dilated pupils tell me all I need to know. “Option A or B, Trophy?”
Outwardly, Karessa is cool when she rises and moves her plate to the sink. I know she’s weighing everything as she rinses her plate and places it on the drying rack. I already know her answer when she turns.
“I’ll find my room,” she squeaks on her way out of the kitchen.
Chapter 22
Oran
Our next week goes well except for one major fucking flaw. Yoga. In our living room. With tight, tight clothes. Right now, I’m perched on my barstool like a lurker in my own home. She moves to the next pose, demonstrating her flexibility, and my dick cries.
Both of her palms are flat on the mat, one leg is stretched in front with the other sticking out in the opposite direction all while her ass is elevated.
“What the fuck do you call that?”
“Upward-Facing Shiva Splits,” she announces as she switches positions.
“Banned.”
Karessa snorts. Standing, she straightens her legs with her back to me. Planting her feet apart slightly, she bends forward, pushing her hands on the mat then lifts one leg into the air with the bottom of her foot facing the ceiling until I can see her face.
Damn, the things I can do to her flexible body.
“Also banned.”
Karessa ends the pose then turns to me with her hands on her hips. I want to lick the line trail of sweat disappearing into her purple sports bra. Her multi-colored purple, orange, and pink shorts also pisses me off. I take a detailed tour of her curvy body until she realizes I don’t give a fuck about her irritated glare.
“How am I supposed to do yoga if you keep trying to ban my poses?” She tugs at her ponytail to tighten it. “Aren’t you supposed to be working or something, big real estate man?”
“Can’t you do yoga in a different room or go to the class?” I counter.
