AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Celia
The next weekand a half passes in a happy, sex-filled blur. We go out for dinner every night and to places like the art museum, the theater, and even the opera. I’m introduced to the mayor, senators, congressman, alderman, as well as several celebrities. Every time Milos gives my name proudly and calls me his wife. If the person mentions the wedding they thought hadn’t happened yet, Milos grins and says now that they met me, do they blame him for not being able to wait for a ceremony to call me his wife? The ceremony is for everyone else, our marriage was for us.
I can’t help glowing beneath his compliments over how well I handled myself and the people we met. His whispering how proud he was of me had me down on my knees for him, desperate to show him I could be even better—that I could be everything he needs and wants.
Over dinner we talk about everything, except the one thing I want him to—his business.
Things seem to have cooled down. There are less middle-of-the-night calls, and once there isn’t a single call for an entire day. At the same time he still needs to work for his legitimate business, and those hours are almost as long. It hurts he won’t talk to me about the things that keep him away from me.
Another thing I can’t stop stressing over is the way sex is different. He hasn’t spanked me at all, no rough fucking. I’m the one who instigated the three blow jobs I’ve given him and he hasn’t even taken me from behind.
Once I pled for him to fuck my ass. It lasted for almost an hour as he prepared me slow and sweet, bringing me to orgasm three times before he slowly fucked my ass with his cock. The way I knew he would, he brought me to climax while he was inside me there, then finished inside my cunt. “For seeding you,” he whispered low.
Every time he touched me, he was sweet and gentle. I loved it, but there were times I missed his hand in my hair, the sting of his hand slapping my ass, the way he used me for his pleasure. I’m deeply ashamed I want him to call me a slut again.
Which is why I don’t dare say a word—I’m too embarrassed. All I can do is wonder if I’m satisfying him, giving him what he needs. And deep down, what I need too.
Maybe it’s why I’m in a bad mood, when I wake up without him. I’ve gotten spoiled waking up in his arms. I love how we end the night with sex and wake up with it, sometimes in bed, sometimes in the shower, but every morning we woke up together we had sex. Even if he left me to sleep, he didn’t just leave me. This morning, waking up to find out he did cuts at me.
There’s a text waiting, he’ll be out all day for business. Dinner at seven and a gallery showing at eight thirty. Instantly, I’m annoyed. I don’t want to go out. I want to stay home, wearing one of his shirts, eat too much pasta in front of the television then go to bed early.
I don’t respond to his text, deciding to go for a long soak. When I’m done I wrap myself in a robe and go into the kitchen to find something to eat. The housekeeper who comes in daily is an amazing cook who keeps the fridge stocked.
After I eat I go back into the closet, not interested in getting dressed but aware I can’t walk around in my robe. Then I decide why not and don’t bother getting dressed.
When Milos texts an hour before he’s due to come home, it’s with the question if I’m almost ready. I ignore it. Fifteen minutes later my phone rings.
“What?”
A beat that pulses with displeasure. “What’s with the attitude, Celia?”
Him using my name stings. Then I’m annoyed all over again. “We never do what I want. You never ask me, do you want to get dressed up fancy and go out? You just assume. I don’t want to go out tonight. I’m not in the mood—”
“A mood is definitely—”
“Fuck you. It’s always what you want. What you decide. You still won’t talk to me about your business. Still keep me in one corner, never letting me out. I’m tired of it.” Why the fuck am I yelling? I don’t even recognize myself. Embarrassed, I end the call. What the hell is the matter with me?
I get a text, I assume it’s from Milos but it’s the dressmaker. My final fitting appointment is tomorrow—the ceremony is three days from today. Is that why I’m freaking out? No, that doesn’t make any sense. We’re already married, I also completely forgot about it until the text reminded me. Which is kind of crazy in itself—who forgets their wedding?
Great, we’ve made so much progress and I go and screw it up by being a freaking brat for no reason even I understand. I stomp into the bedroom to get ready by way of an apology.
Milos
Fucking hell.I tell Danil to stop off at Tony Sabatini’s bookstore. In the time it takes to get there, I wonder if it’s time. If I dare. The last few weeks have been amazing, a few times I even came close as we lay wrapped around each other in bed. I’m not sure what is holding me back, her or me.
I enter through the back. The door down to his office is guarded by a longtime soldier who recognizes me and opens the door marked storage. I’m down the stairs to the office where the bookie business Tony operates is run.
Most of the area that runs the length of the building is set up with four desks where the men take bets. The door to Tony’s office opens, but it isn’t Tony, it’s Luca.
“Hey, come on in.” He steps back to let me in.
I go in, hesitant. “Your father is unavailable?”
“Pop retired, remember?”
“Shit, I’m sorry, I forgot.” I go to stand.
“Have a seat, let me get you a scotch, you look like you need it.” Luca is up pouring, leaving me to feel rude if I refuse.
