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Thi stands, lifting me in one smooth move. It’s not lost on me how he started weight training more soon after the incident. I figure he thought he’d be carrying me a lot. Thankfully, after the initial shock, my body rallied, and I was up and about by the end of the first week. That’s not to say it wasn’t painful or grueling. Yet the whole time, he was there, taking care of me, making sure all my needs were met.
Thi dealt with my fits and pettiness without a word. He let me cuss him out and blame him. Took it all, even when I said things that were wrong and hurtful. He bore it, holding me as I cried myself to sleep in his arms. Some nights, I don’t even think he slept. When I asked, he’d shrug and say,I just don’t want to miss a moment with you.
“Hey,” he says, bringing me to his eye level.
“Hey,” I say as I feel his shaft hard and throbbing between us.
“We’re going to take this slow.” He holds me up higher. “Put me inside you, little wife.”
Positioning him at my entrance, I hiss when he slowly impales me on his dick.
“How we doing, Nik?” He pants after working me up and down on his hard length a few times.
“Good. So good.” Moaning, I love the way he’s stretching me out. I can feel him everywhere. Adoring the way he takes his time, working his long, thick dick.
“Yessss.” He drags out the word, working me up and down. He starts a slow steady ramming into my pussy that gets harder and harder until our bodies are slapping together in a messy erotic cadence.
“Rub your pussy, little wife. Come with me.” He groans, jacking me on his dick, using me like I’m a doll. I really don’t need to. I can tell by the way my muscles tense. “Do it,” he growls, fucking hard up into my needy pussy.
Meeting his eyes, I do as he says, rubbing my slick bud with trembling fingers.
“Fuck, yes,” he hisses, as my head falls back. “No, look at me, little slut, when I fill my pussy up.”
My head comes down, and I’m lost in his gaze, lost in his touch. Lost in everything Mathias Shelby, my best friend, husband, lover.
* * *
“What does she want?”I ask Mathias the next morning as we sit on the veranda overlooking in the harvested sugarcane fields.
“She didn’t say. She came to the hospital that first night wanting to know how you were, and she stayed for a long time, until they told us they were going to put you in a drug-induced coma. Then there was the accident, and she was burying her daughter.” Mathias lifts his coffee to his lips, his eyes never wavering, nor the conviction to never speak Natalie’s name again.
He offered to make breakfast, but I didn’t have an appetite once he let me know I have a guest coming, one he didn’t tell me about until today because he didn’t want me anxious and upset.
Natalie’s betrayal lies sharp and bitter between us. He blames himself, even though I have told him there was something seriously wrong with that girl. She showed people only what she wanted them to see. To him, she was a colleague, almost lover, friend. To the public, she was a steadfast champion of the people. To me, she was always his fiancée, then his ex, then my wannabe rival, and an unmitigated bitch when I became his wife.
We sit enjoying the beautiful morning just enjoying the morning. After a while, he goes to make a couple calls, while I sit lost in thought. My tummy twists in anticipation of the meeting Mrs. Spencer requested.
“Nik.”
I know by the tone of his voice that he’s not alone. He sounds so protective. Like if she said one word out the way, he’d bury her in that field he loves so much just beyond sight of our home. I think that’s why he built this house here—to be near his work.
“Mrs. Spencer,” I say, firmly rising.
“No, don’t get up, honey.” She waves and hurries to sit down, her eyes seemingly doing a thorough inspection of my well-being. It’s disconcerting.
“Ahem.”
My eyes skate to Mathias as she sits opposite me. She has an uncanny resemblance to her daughter, except Natalie inherited her eyes from her father. “Can we get you anything to drink or eat? We didn’t have breakfast, but Mathias can make you something, and there are still warm homemade biscuits from yesterday morning.” I know my smile is a little strained, but in my defense, her daughter did try to kill me, though Mrs. Spencer doesn’t know anything about it. I guess I forgot my media training because I can tell when she notices just how uncomfortable I am. If anything, her face softens more.
“I’m fine. Mathias, will you sit with us? It’s important that you hear what I have to say.” She pats the seat beside her.
“Mathias said you wanted to talk to me?” I ask.
“Yes. How much did your father tell you about your mom?” she asks kindly.
“Just that she was a Spencer, and they met when they were sixteen and she was committed to the state hospital. He’d gone when he was fifteen and couldn’t get the voices in his head to be quiet.” I tell her, almost verbatim, the brief history my daddy relayed to me. “Daddy said they were both in and out of the institution for the next ten years. He spoke of how they fell in love and how their families tried to keep them apart because they thought their love was a byproduct of their illnesses. He said at first they lived off the grid here on Love land he claimed and were fine until someone from the Spencer side reported them. My mom was pregnant with me, and they took my sisters, Kandie and Kerania, but the place was a nightmare, so they were determined to get them out, but by the time he and mom got safely settled and came back, the place was burned to the ground and Kandie was with my family. They hid for her safety from the cult who ran the place.” I know the story backward and forward, so it took nothing for me to tell it. The expression on Mrs. Spencer’s face says she hadn’t, though, and if the tears she gets her elegantly embroidered handkerchief out to wipe away are any indication, then she hadn’t heard it often enough, or maybe she was still hurt by it.
“Yes—yes, your story is exactly how it happened. Your mother, Astra was my best friend and my husband’s sister. He loved her dearly and wanted to protect her. Mostly from herself and her illness. He quietly supported her and your father, but his first wife, Natalia Spencer, a distant Spencer cousin, however, was more concerned about appearances. She suffered from the same personality disorder as Natalie. She became obsessed with ‘protecting’ your mother from herself and keeping her and your father apart.
