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Valentine’s special
Elna
I shut the door to our bedroom and tiptoe inside. Brandon doesn’t stir. He’s dead asleep. Or so I think till I near the bed and drop the package—his valentine gift on the nightstand. He puckers his lips for a kiss and I gladly indulge him. His hands grasp my butt, he pulls me up to straddle him and I move slowly against his erection without breaking eye contact.“Are they asleep now?”
“Yeah. Finally. Alleluia,” I reply with a laugh. “Maybe I shouldn’t have given them the day off.”
Silly me thought it would be great to give the twins nannies Valentine’s Day off so our family could do something special. Bad choice. With two one-year old attention demanding kids, I need all the help I can get. To make it worse, this year’s valentine fell on a Sunday and most of last night was spent trying to quiet the babies.
“Maybe.” Brandon captures my lips. The kiss is lazy but it soon grows urgent. His tongue searches for mine, twirlin
maramarthaSooo, this is it. Thank you for sticking with us till the end. Me and my characters are grateful for the support. As you must have figured out, Joshua has his own story. It's not out yet but the title is: Retired Heartbreaker. I have to finish my current projects before I dive into it but keep an eye out for it. Happy valentine's day. Stay safe. Thank you once again.
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Mrs Reluctant Billionaire One
I am stalking my wife. I am cyberstalking her with no intention of stopping. Her figure moves across the screen of my laptop, I follow it with a sad smile making its way to my lips. It still feels so surreal, almost like yesterday when she asked for a divorce with teary eyes. I can still smell her on me, the new shampoo enriched with a mix of unidentified fruits. I never got to ask her the name. The memories wash over me, I slouch in the seat and allow myself to relive them. To feel them like I have done for five years. My eyelids flutter open, it takes a second for me to process the new view, I realise I have been transported back to the mansion, to our room. Back to that day when everything fell apart. “I killed him,” I whispered. I glanced at her pregnant frame seated on the edge of the bed, the thick cover hanging from her chest was the only item of clothing she had on. She stared at me with a lost expression, I squirmed in
Mrs Reluctant Billionaire Two
She was scared of me. My wife was scared of me. It was there in the way her steps faltered when she saw me, how she thought twice before speaking in monotones, how she hesitated to return my hugs, delayed to hold my hand. That carefree lady was gone, the glint in her eyes was slowly dying, as was the affection she had for me. I missed her. Nighttime was the only period of sanity we shared. On the bed, with the darkness as our only alibi, we could pretend to be a regular couple, I could cuddle her, touch her growing bump. I tucked my head in the space between her neck and shoulder, she stiffened but relaxed almost immediately and I palmed her belly, traced her belly button. She was carrying our girls and I needed this awkwardness to be gone before the twins graced this earth. I placed a lingering kiss on her shoulder, another one behind her ear. If she was awake, I wouldn’t have been able to do it. I wasn’t allowed to do a lot of
Mrs Reluctant Billionaire Three
Faint giggles pierces through the painful memory, the vision from those days blurs. An acute pain like a knife being twisted in my guts drags me back to the present, my new reality, I suck in a shaky breath, blinking until the haze clears and I remember where I am. What I am doing. What I always do. Stalk her. Hell will be too chill a place for me if she finds out but who will tell her? Not me. I can’t slip up on an act I have had going for nearly five years. I have become a pro at stalking her, a proud one at that. If she wasn’t so stiff, so unresponsive, I wouldn’t have resorted to this. If she had kept to her words and empty promises, we might have worked things out. You are my beginning, my middle, my end. I scoff. Indeed. Your sins are forgivable. You are mine, I will always love you. Right until it was time to prove it. Promises upon promises. All of them, fake and empty. Running a hand over my face, I release my breath sl
Mrs Reluctant Billionaire Four
The lube in my last drawer comes in handy, I apply a generous amount to my palm and toss the plastic on the table. Rubbing my hands together, I bath my dick with the lube. Warm and slick like El’s core should be with her inside muscles clenching around me while I ride her to orgasmland again and again. So tight. So wet. Always wet for me. Such a turn on. I focus on her legs which she spreads on getting into the bathtub, giving me a view of her dark labia. That clit I want to suck on until she loses her voice from screaming my name in ecstasy. I let out a strangled hiss when her fingers lower to her wet entrance, she makes casual strokes around her vaginal lips and my eyes clamp shut in agony. It should be my fingers. I should be in the bathtub with her, rubbing my dick against her ass, giving her a massage right before I fuck her to a much needed sleep after her long days. Her loan business is doing great but it’s taking a toll on her. I want t
Mrs Reluctant Billionaire Five
By Friday morning, I am still pissed. A tight ball of fury waiting to explode. So when the driver stops me in front of the mansion gate and the twins are not outside waiting for me, I nearly detonate. It takes a strangled sigh, another look at the rearview mirror where my eyes meet with the driver’s to see how red the tips of my ears have turned. And I drum my foot into the car until the tightness in my chest recedes.Retrieving my phone, I double check to see if the text I sent was delivered. No surprises there. I haven’t made that mistake after that tantrum at her school. But my kids are nowhere near. That familiar anger claws at my jaw, I told her I would be here in two minutes and three minutes have passed without them.Today is the first time I have to step out of the car to get them, when my feet meet the ground, a wave of nostalgia hits me. This used to be my home. Our home. Until I—we, no, she ruined it. She could have f
Mrs Reluctant Billionaire Six (Part I)
The car is eerily silent when I join the twins. They huddle close to the door like they are trying to create a gap between us. I glance at the driver, eyes querying him but he only shrugs and I massage my forehead. The point of picking them up with a driver is to avail us enough time together without any distractions. “Hey,” I say and stretch my hand to them. Eyeing my limb warily like it’s not the part of me that carried them a while ago, they shake their heads and look out the window. Their movements are choreographed, the crossing of their arms on their chest and the pouts that take over their lips while ignoring me for a crime I know nothing about. I give the command for the driver to start the car and we glide down the road in silence until I clear my throat. “Bren. Bran.” Her head angles in my direction slowly. “Wyn.” She gives me a thumbs up and I snigger. Where did she learn that? Most importantly, why are they upset with me? It is easie
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“Do you like it?” she asks. I scoff, like? No, I love it and I say that out loud with a smile that makes my cheeks ache. It is almost the same as the one their mother gifted me. My first birthday gift without the usual sentiments attached to it, I miss her. The words are the same: Best daddy in the world but with a wink. I turn the mug upside down to get a better look at it and the new addition of my title for them: Daddy’s little girls at the bottom has me grinning sheepishly. I might have bawled my eyes out if they weren’t staring expectantly at me, I force myself to smile. To remind them how much I love them. I don’t understand how I lived without them. We are approaching their school gate when I ask, “How was your week? Did anything fun happen?” With a pointed look at Wyn, I say, “Did you try anything nice again?” She offers her most innocent smile, the shaking of Bren’s head is what truly convinces me of the little experimentalist’s i
Mrs Reluctant Billionaire Seven
She is not picking my calls. Straight to voicemail. Fuck my life. Enzo stops the car a few miles from the gate on my instruction. I haven’t told a lie in a long time but my fingers swipe across the screen and I do exactly what I have sworn never to do. I lie. I lie using my kids so my wife can reply me and she does. El: The girls are fine. I just got off the phone with their class teacher, what do you want? That stings. I stare at the text, hurt. The brusqueness of it all, her dismissal like her world didn’t revolve around me once and my heart squeezes painfully I have to place a hand on my chest. But what right do I have to complain when I shamed her minutes ago? Don’t put your lips on my kids? What I was thinking. They are our kids, she has done a great job of raising them and should be rewarded with praises instead. It’s partially her fault. She provoked me into blurting out those words. There were kids in the house and all she cared about was
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