Giving his arm a playful slap, I laugh. “You’re terrible, Eli. You almost had me.”
He laughs. “But I did have you, wife. In our car.”
A flush rises to my cheeks. “I can’t believe we did that. Are you sure the driver couldn’t hear?”
Giving me a devilish grin, he says, “I told you, the mirrored wall makes the cab soundproof. But I didn’t say anything about him not seeing us.”
I stop dead in my tracks. Tugging at his arm, I hiss, “Eli Bachman! You did not tell me the mirror was see-through on the other side. I assumed it was privacy glass!”
His hand slides over my ass. “You know what they say about assumptions.” His fingertips wrap around my flesh, giving me a squeeze that sends me up on tiptoe.
“They make an ass out of you? How could you?” I suddenly feel sick, the thought of our driver watching us fucking in the back seat. Though raunchy and dirty, it was meant to be a private moment between husband and wife.
He gives a chuckle and that teasing grin spreads over his face once more.
“You’re... joking?”
Relief floods me as he nods. “Though you’re so beautiful, I wouldn’t mind showing you off.”
“That was a dirty trick, husband.”
“Not as dirty as you, my dear wife.” Linking arms, he escorts me to the hostess stand.
We are seated at a table for two overlooking the city. The view is stunning. Being able to see for miles, city lights twinkling against the night sky, it makes me realize how many people there are in this world, and I am just one of many.
There are no menus. Just well-dressed servers bustling from table to table. Filling our water glasses, filling our wineglasses. “How do they know what we want?”
“They don’t. It’s a different menu every night, chef’s choice. Everyone has the same thing, and all the courses are paired with a complementing wine.”
I can’t imagine what an evening like this must cost. Suddenly, I feel out of place, unsure of what to do with myself. To add to my nerves, another waiter appears, smoothing a cloth napkin over my lap. “Oh, my.”
He puts his hand over mine. “It’s a bit over the top but if you relax, I think you’ll enjoy it.”
I look away. “I just feel like a bit of an...”
“Imposter?” he asks.
I raise my gaze to meet his. “Yes.”
His smile is reassuring. “I felt the same way when I first moved to the city. You’ll adjust.”
Taking a sip of the sparkling white wine, I smile as the warmth spreads in my chest. “That’s delicious.”
He watches my face, pleasure on his. He seems to enjoy making me happy. “I’m glad you like it.”
Another server appears, placing a small plate of salad before me. The greens curl around one another, fresh and crisp. A light dressing glistens over their leaves. I watch Eli, waiting to see which of his forks he chooses. He picks up the outermost one, lightly spearing a salad leaf.
I copy him, popping the green into my mouth. The dressing is tangy and sweet with a hint of orange. It’s like nothing I’ve had before and I find it surprisingly refreshing.
Our half full wineglasses are taken away, replaced by a light red. My hand reaches out, and I’m about to tell the waiter, “Wait, I’m not done with that,” but I catch a glance from Eli, signaling me to let it go.
The plates are cleared and next we have a soup whose name I can’t remember how to pronounce once the server walks away, but it’s creamy with pieces of tender beef and I find it to be delicious.
I try to take larger sips from my glass to keep from wasting, but before I know it, the black and white suited squad is back, taking the glasses and bowls and spoons and replacing them with new dishes.
This wine is a deep red and when I sip it, I feel relaxed. The plate before me has a round filet accompanied by a potato dish, brown sauce lightly spread over top. Again, I watch Eli closely, learning how to navigate the meal. The meat is so tender, it’s as if it melts in my mouth. The potatoes are buttery, seasoned with fresh parsley. The sauce adds a tang to the dish.
When that is cleared away, I feel as if I could not eat another bite. But then, chocolate cake and coffee arrive and I somehow manage to find room.
As we are walking out of the restaurant, I put a hand over my full belly. “I’m stuffed. I don’t think I ate that much on Thanksgiving. I can barely move.”
“That’s why we had our first course in the car,” Eli says with a wink.
Speaking of Thanksgiving makes me realize Eli and I will now be spending the holidays together. Our whole arrangement was so sudden, there was no time to contemplate such things. Now I find just about every hour, a question like this comes to my mind. “How will we spend the holidays, now that we’re married?”
“The Bachmans celebrate as a family. We have a huge gathering at the rooftop bar for Thanksgiving. Then on Christmas Eve there’s a black-tie event, drinks and dancing till dawn. Christmas Day, we all gather for brunch.”
Excitement for my first Christmas as Eli’s wife dances through me, but then I think of my parents, how much they must miss me. I have to admit, I’ve been so busy in my new life I haven’t missed them as much as I would have thought. But Christmas—I have to at least see them. “And when do we visit our families? I know you said we have to wait, but I’d like to see my parents for the holidays.”
He says, “We usually visit family Christmas night, or the following day. Whichever you choose.”
“I’m fine with either. As long as I’m with you.”
Smiling down at me, he pulls me close to him, kissing me gently.
Chapter Nine
Charlotte
This week completes my third full month as Mrs. Bachman. When Eli works from home, I’ve felt he enjoys my company, often calling me into his office to sit on his lap and chat for a few minutes, to bring him a coffee, little things that let me know he cares.
Our sex life is like something I could have only imagined with my wild fantasies. A cross between a dirty movie and the stacks of naughty romance books I’ve got piled up on my Kindle.
It’s kinky and fresh and I’m often walking through my day with damp panties, daydreaming of the evening before, or the evening to come, or the way he takes me roughly in his arms, growling into my ear, “Come here, baby girl.”
I have wanted for nothing, other than a visit to my family. And maybe one little I love you.
Emily and I have upped our lunches from one to five a week. When she has the baby, she and Luca will have to move to Connecticut, or Greece, where married couples with children reside. Due to the business dealings being founded in the Village, it makes it a more dangerous place to live, and no children are allowed.
The Bachman family estate in Connecticut, called the Hamlet, is its own town, complete with a hospital, school, and library.
Luca longs for the Parrish off the coast of Greece, with its white stone mansions and perfect weather, the ocean stretching out around the island.
Knowing our days of being neighbors are numbered, we extend our lunches, watching movies stretched out on her magnificent gray velvet couch while our husbands toil away.
I always make sure to leave in time to be home to cook for Eli, though in the beginning, I fail more times than I succeed. Eli is so sweet to me. If the meal is inedible, he takes me out to a new restaurant. If it is even somewhat digestible, he suffers through it with a queer smile on his face, often reducing me to fits of giggles.
In Emily’s attempts to save Eli from my cooking, she’s given me the phone number for Mary Bachman. Mary lives in the Parrish. The time difference is a little tricky, but she’s taken me on as a pet project.
Several afternoons a week she’ll teleconference me from the kitchen of her white stone Mediterranean mansion. I can see a stretch of the teal ocean through the kitchen windows behind her.
Today is a call day. I scurry around my kitchen, pulling out the pots, pans, measuring tools, and
ingredient list that Mary emailed me earlier in the week. When I have everything neatly set up on the huge marble island, I tie my apron around my waist.
I grab the computer Eli bought me from the kitchen desk drawer, setting it up next to all my goodies. When I turn it on, I laugh at how quickly the computer is ready to go, much different from the dusty old dinosaur I had at home.
Mary’s cheerful face pops up on the screen. Her hair is perfectly curled, held back by two gold barrettes. She wears an apron out of the fifties, with frills and little cherries printed on it. She waves to me, calling, “Hi there, Charlotte!”
Happy to see her familiar face, I wave to the computer screen. “Hi, Miss Mary!”
She leans in toward her camera, whispering, “Are you ready to get started on our top-secret dish?”
Earlier in the week I asked Emily to quiz Captain Luca to figure out what Eli’s favorite dish aboard the Aphrodite was. I wanted to surprise him with something he’d love, and with Mary’s help, I think I can manage.
I say, “Yes! Although I have to admit, I’m a little nervous. I was hoping his favorite dish would be something a little simpler.”
She gives me a reassuring smile. “Don’t be intimidated by seafood, my darling. We’ve got this.”
An hour later, I’m staring at a gorgeous bowl of lemon garlic shrimp pasta. “I can’t believe it, Mary! It looks real.”
“Of course it’s real, dear. What else would it be? Now tidy up your kitchen and pour two glasses of that Pinot Grigio I recommended—I’m telling you there’s something in that wine that will make you feel randy like candy.”
I laugh, thank her, and say goodbye. She made me clean as we cooked so the kitchen is almost perfect. Rushing over to the bar, I open the cabinet to retrieve the proper white wineglasses—to think three months ago I had no idea that different types of wine were to be served in different styles of glasses—but even on tiptoe, I can’t quite reach. “Damn these short stubby legs!”
A chuckle rises from behind me, startling me. “I think those little legs of yours are just perfect.” Eli comes up behind me, his chest pressed against my back. His warmth envelops me, the scent of his soap surrounds me. He leans up, his body brushing against mine, and retrieves two glasses.
Before he pulls away, he places a soft kiss at the base of my neck, the magical spot he’s learned drives me crazy. I let out a little moan. “More.”
“More what?” he whispers, his breath tickling my ear.
“More, please, Daddy.”
“That’s better.” His lips nip and suck at the delicate flesh between my shoulder and neck.
My eyes close as my hands go to the bar top, my fingers clutching the edge, my knees weak. “That feels so good.”
He murmurs, “Should we have dessert before dinner?”
Shit, the pasta! Mary warned me it was best served right away. My eyes pop wide open. “First, dinner.”
He kisses me again. “Are you sure?”
Facing him, I place a kiss of apology on his lips. “It’s just that I spent the afternoon making your favorite dish and I really want you to try it.”
A smile stretches over his face. “You know, you’re the only woman I’ve ever been with that cooked for me.”
His confession makes my heart swell with joy. “I had to do a little investigating and get a lot of help from Mary, but I think it came out okay.”
“What are we waiting for? I’m suddenly starving.”
We walk over to the island and I go to take the bowl to the table, but he stops me. “Let’s eat right here.”
He opens the wine, pouring two generous glasses. He holds his up in a toast. “To three months of wedded bliss.”
“Cheers.” I take a few sips of the wine; tangy and delicious, it slides down my throat, warming my insides.
Eli sets his glass down and picks up a fork. He spears a shrimp and twirls the pasta noodles around the fork. The scent of the dish fills the air and I have to say it smells amazing. Eager to see his reaction, I wait for him to take a bite.
Instead, he floats the fork over to me. Holding it before my mouth, a seductive grin on his face. “You go first.”
Opening my mouth, I let him slide the fork inside. I’ve never been fed by my partner before and I find it to be strangely sexy. The pasta is cooked perfectly, the sauce creamy and flavorful. A sense of pride wells in my chest—I did it! I take the fork from his hand. “Your turn.”
Dipping the fork in the bowl, I arrange the perfect bite. He opens his mouth, and I feed him the pasta I’ve so painstakingly prepared for him. It’s silly of me to put so much weight on this dish, but I wait, my heart thumping, for his reaction.
He makes a grimace. “It’s awful...”
My heart sinks. I drop the fork to the counter with a clank. “Oh, no! You don’t like it?”
Grabbing my hips, he lifts me up onto the island top. Wedging his way between my thighs, he kisses me. “You didn’t let me finish. It’s awful-ly good.”
I smack his shoulder in retribution. “You tease me mercilessly. I almost cried.”
He kisses me again. “Why would you cry?”
“I just want to make you happy.”
His flirty kisses stop. Pulling back, his gaze locks on mine, now somber. He slides a hand on either side of my cheeks, cradling my face gently. “Now you listen to me, young lady. I’ve told you once before—you make me so happy. If you can’t accept that fact, then I’m afraid I’m going to have to take you over my knee and spank some sense into you.”
A smile creeps onto my lips. I look at him from underneath my lashes, crooning, “Oh, Daddy, don’t spank me.”
Desire flashes through his eyes. “I think I’ve finally met my match.”
He has no idea how much those words mean to me. I whisper back, “Me too.”
His hands go to his waist and in a matter of seconds, his pants are out of the way, his hard cock free and ready. He pushes up my skirts, my apron. Eyes me with domination, demanding, “Lift.”
Pressing my hands into the cool marble, I raise my bottom from it. His fingers tickle my skin as he searches for the waistband of my panties. He tugs them down around my thighs. I lower my weight back onto the island, my bare ass against the cold stone.
He slides the panties down my legs, over my feet, tossing them onto the floor. His hands reach beneath my dress and with a hard tug, he pulls my bottom to the very edge of the countertop.
My arms go behind me, hands balancing my weight. My legs spread further. To my surprise, he disappears beneath my skirts. I cry out as his mouth finds my slick heat, licking and nibbling my swollen clit. My feet rest on his shoulders, my knees bent as he grabs hold of my thighs, devouring my pussy.
I’m shuddering, trying to recover from the powerful orgasm as he reappears, putting his mouth on mine. His tongue forces into my mouth and I can taste my own sex.
I feel his hardness against me, searching for a warm welcome. Sliding my hand under my skirt, I take his throbbing member in my hand and guide it to my soaking wet entrance. He plunges inside and my whole world tilts on its access.
When we come together like this, him filling me, I feel whole. I feel as if we are one person.
He buries deep within me and his pace quickens. I long for him to go harder, faster, and as if reading my mind, he begins thrusting in me with wild abandon. Tipping my head back, I invite him to kiss my neck, and he does, sucking and biting that place that takes me to another level.
There are stars in my eyes, my head cloudy as he pounds away, bringing me closer to another climax with each forceful thrust. Just when I think I’m going to come, he slips out of me, leaving me feeling empty and void. I cry out, “No! Don’t stop.”
Ignoring my pleas, he grabs me around my waist, lifting me from the counter. He sets me down on my feet, turning me roughly until my back is to him. With fevered hands, he bunches up my skirts around my waist, and presses me against the edge of the island. His hand finds my back, lowerin
g me down and bending me over.
Before I have the chance to catch my breath, his cock is back inside me, this time the angle from the back driving it even deeper into my pussy than before. My palms smack the marble counter as I cry out.
He’s going so hard and fast I can barely breathe, my hipbones digging into the counter. He wraps his hand around the hair at the nape of my neck, pulling my head back and slapping my ass. He growls his demand, “Come for Daddy.”
His words, his rough handling of my body, it’s too much. My mind and body become one, joining each other at the peak of elation. Holding in a scream, I come, my body rocking in rhythm with his.
He gives his own moan of pleasure as he thrusts several more times, his seed bursting within me.
Collapsing over my back, he pants, trying to catch his breath, as I am mine.
After dinner, he takes me into his arms, kissing my cheeks, my forehead, my lips. He carries me up all three flights of stairs, me giggling like a silly little girl all the way. When we reach the bedroom, he insists on cleaning me, undressing me. Soon, he has me tucked under the covers in pink silk pajamas.
Eli crawls into the bed beside me, kisses my forehead. “Goodnight. And thank you for that amazing dinner. It meant a lot to me that you would go through all that trouble.”
I want to reply with, I love you, but I hold back, not wanting to put any pressure on him. Instead I smile. “I’m glad you liked it. Goodnight.”
He turns over onto his side and within minutes, I hear the heavy breathing of his sleep.
He doesn’t love me, but hope rises in me that he will. I lie on my back, staring at the ceiling, too elated to sleep. “He’s happy. I think I make him happy.”
There’s a ding of his phone from his nightstand. It’s his civilian cell—the one he keeps for family and friends back home. It’s much later at night than his family normally messages him. Sliding from the blankets, I tiptoe around the bed to read the text message on the banner, just to be sure it’s not something urgent from home I should wake him for.
On the screen, a green flashing banner holds white words.
Cascade Jackson: Eli, I’ve been thinking about you and your lifestyle and have realized that I didn’t give you a fair chance. I wanted to tell you—if you’re still up for me meeting your parents, I’m game.
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