It's Friday, the day we're supposed to get married. If I agree to it. As of now, I still haven't replied Miss Collin's and Drey's text messages. I left them on read because they know what my answer is, so pushing me over the edge does nothing to me. I don't crack that easily, guys. How do you think I remain a virgin for twenty nine years? "Anna booked us a table at Owen's. I'll pick you up at 7 tonight okay, B?" I nod while watching him put the coffee cup on the saucer. Doesn't matter what happened in the real world, he'll always be here at 7am. I wonder if he'll still be this pretentious if I agree about the marriage beforehand, like on the day Miss Collins came to me. Or he'd treat me differently? Too bad today is already the day, it's too late to run the experiment. "I asked him to cook the same meal just for us. So you can enjoy the wine as it should be." Oh dear, "No you shouldn't have. It's a fixed menu night, you don't have to ask him that. I'm really okay with whatever's
"If I kiss you," he whispers when his lips are still attached to my head, "I don't think I'll be able to stop." ...but he's kissing me right now, isn't he? I'm trying to fool myself but who am I kidding, lame dirty jokes are my muse. So I understand exactly what he meant by the last words. "We have a dinner to get to," he continues in his normal voice while creating a tiny space between us. I can feel the thick tension in the air and pray for the elevator to be here, to which God answers my prayer. And just like that I step into it as he follows me inside. I don't think I'll be able to get those words off my mind the entire night, because it keeps being replayed like a broken record- If I kiss you, I don't think I'll be able to stop. If I kiss you. Kiss you. You... don't think. Able to stop. Able...to stop. Kiss. Stop. Able. Able to kiss. Stop. Stop kiss. Able. Stop. Kiss. "Fuck it," he groans as he appears in front of me, tilting my chin so I'd meet his face. Before my mind can
I'm certain the confidence he was showing despite his first time eating me comes from his practice with a lot of Scarletts. That's the only explanation I can come up with, because right after he said those things, his phone rang and a minute later two men with one of them wearing a chef outfit step into our place. Two hours and five courses later, they leave our place as we remain seated at the dining table, finishing our drink. "Since when don't you like red wine?" He asks while I drink my plain water. He must be taking me as the real Scarlett, who actually drinks red wine that's paired with her food. I have to say I'm fascinated by how good he is at this whole pretence. Did he even remember what happened this morning? When he married me the Islamic way? So this morning is the only time we're Alya and Mr Gunn? "I don't feel like drinking tonight," my answer to his questions whenever I'm not ordering alcoholic drinks. To be honest, I'm too overwhelmed tonight with what happened
"No! Don't! No finger!" I protest upon seeing he inserts his middle finger inside me. The way I scream in panic made him stop abruptly, retrieving it as per request. I sigh in relief knowing it went in only half of its entire length. "I don't want a finger." It comes out as a plead, contradicting my earlier tone. His face is still an inch away from my wet pussy, but his eyes are focusing on me. "I need to stretch you," he says softly, "I don't wanna hurt you later." All of a sudden the nice Honey is back in this bedroom. His soothing, friendly tone has helped me a lot into adjusting my life as Scarlett Monroe all this while but at this particular moment, it's still not enough to coax me into giving him the permission to finger me. "I don't want my first time to be a finger." I don't want your fat middle finger to break my hymen. There's no way I'm losing my precious twenty-nine years of virginity to a fucking finger! "But B-" He is definitely concerned, I can see it in his eyes.
"It's not too tight?" He asks while creating a bow with his black tie, binding both my wrists. I shake my head, running my attention from his third leg to his face. He gently raises my hands upward, to be in line with my head. Pretty sure I'm flushing red right now with my boobs being presented this way, as if I'm offering myself for his consumption. He fixes the pillows behind me to reposition myself, making me comfortable for what's coming next that I sure know won't be comfortable at all. Then he carefully opens my legs and kneels in between them, placing his palms at each thigh making me completely at his mercy. "I love you," he smiles while leaning in for a kiss. It's light, just enough to hint me he's about to begin. Instead of pulling himself away, he brings his lips down, sucking my neck. I sigh, feeling a certain excitement brewing deep in me. His hands that were on my thighs start to travel upward, going to the one place that holds a bundle of nerves. Putting some press
"Yeah we... uhm. We did that... that thing." I can't even look at her face, of course I can't mouth it either! I fiddle with my manicured fingers, inspecting each of them mindlessly without looking at the phone. Why on earth did I accept her call. I should've waited until a week or something. "That thing?" She pauses, "You mean sex? Opsss am I not supposed to say that word?" She giggles, obviously pressing one of my buttons on purpose, "So how was it? How was ‘that thing’?"I refuse to look at her and play with the hem of my dress next. I really, really have to find an excuse to end this awkward video call. "You know what, I'm gonna call it sex. You can use that thing that thing that thing all the way but sex seems a lot easier to say. So how was it? How was the sex? Good? Weird? Bad? Is he well hung? He should be. He's a freaking big foot!" That's what she called him when I sent her a picture of us a few weeks ago. I looked like a midget next to him, for the fact I'm not that sma
We've officially changed our routine. It used to be morning coffee, then work, dinner, and goodnight kiss. But now, it has been five consecutive days of make-out session in the morning, make out session at home before going to dinner, make out session in the car on the way to dinner, make out session during dinner -sneaking out somewhere, sometimes the powder room-, make out session on the way home, and finally, after all the teasing we would hit it once we're back to the penthouse. A few rounds of moaning, screaming, all the eye-rolling orgasms, then I'll either fall asleep rightaway at our ‘marriage bed’ or we'd continue with bathroom sex before he sends me to my bedroom. He'd seal my lips with a kiss then say goodnight, for the cycle to continue the next morning. Tonight, we're leaving for Santorini for our honeymoon. He didn't call it that way since maybe, for him, it's just another one of our weekend escape but for me, it's our honeymoon. Don't steal it from me! I'm gonna ca
I have to admit I was a little bit upset to know he booked a suite with three bedrooms at the hotel we're staying, as usual. Though this time, instead of leaving the third bedroom unoccupied, he turned it into our marriage room where we had sex most of the time, aside from the unconventional places. We'd do it everywhere, but never at his or my bedroom. I had been wanting to ask what's up with his obsession to keep our bedroom as our private space because none of this was specified in the contract. Why would he limit himself, when I had been subtly inviting him in? But that's all I did; subtly inviting him in. I still remember my place, fully aware that I'm just the shadow of his beloved wife. On our flight back home, for the second time, he fell asleep next to me after our fun exercise. And that's why I had been looking forward to weekend escapes, especially the long haul flights, mainly because I love being so close to him all night long. It felt like he belonged to me. Me, A