Chapter 13 Knight #2
“Let’s just soak for a while. I have to go and set up my area in the studio tomorrow. I need to make some calls and post on my socials to see if I can get some appointments scheduled for next week, so let’s just make the most of having nothing else to do today.”
“Okay,” I agree.
We laze in the tub until the water starts to cool, then I set the water to drain and carry her over to the shower, carefully covering her body in soap before I wash and condition her hair.
Once we’re both wrapped in towels and her hair is dry, I carry her into the bedroom and lower her to her feet in the closet.
“What color do you want?” I ask, opening the dresser drawer that’s filled with my T-shirts.
“I do own my own pjs and nighties,” she says, closing my drawer when she realizes that the place where my black T-shirts usually are is empty.
Waiting, I watch while she opens another drawer and pulls out a scrap of black mesh fabric.
Unsure what it is, I follow her movements as she drops her towel to the floor, then steps into what look like shorts, only when she pulls them up, she pushes her head and arms through thin straps that hook over her shoulders.
It takes her a second to fully position the outfit, but when she does, my dick jerks to attention.
The shorts are cut high on her thighs at the front, but then curve shorter at the back, giving me a glimpse of the creamy globes of her ass.
Thin straps that are attached to the shorts at the waist crisscross over at her shoulder blades, leaving her entire back bare.
At the front, her breasts are covered by a mesh top that is attached to the shorts with a tantalizingly low V-neck that shows off her small cleavage.
She’s covered, but still practically naked as the fabric is sheer enough I can see the outline of her nipples and the darkening of the fabric as it clings to her cunt.
“What do you think?” she asks, doing a little twirl.
“You look perfect, Doll.”
“Better than in your shirt?” she teases.
“I never want to see you wearing my shirt ever again. If we’re in the house and not naked, then I want you to wear things like this,” I tell her earnestly, grabbing my rock-hard dick and squeezing.
Giggling playfully, she covers my hand on my dick with hers and moves our hold up and down my length.
“Doll,” I growl in warning.
“Yes, baby?” she asks sweetly, using the same endearment she used earlier.
“Your cunt is too sore to fuck. Correct?” I growl.
“Yes.” She nods quickly.
“Then why are you trying to make me hard?”
“You’re already hard,” she points out, giving her hand over mine on my dick a squeeze.
“Not as hard as I will be if you keep doing that.”
“I want you to tell me what else is on your list.”
“Doll,” I growl again, trying to fill my voice with warning. “Do you want to know what item is at the top of my list?” I ask, carefully pulling her hand from my dick.
“Yes,” she says, leaning toward me, her lips parted a little.
“I want to put my baby in you.”
Her eyes go wide, and she shakes her head.
“I want to fill your cunt with my cum, then watch your body grow after I’ve bred you with my baby.”
“No,” she says, but the word is strained and barely loud enough for me to hear.
“Yes,” I growl. “No more birth control. Nothing is going to stop me from breeding my wife.”
I’ve had her cell phone since I put her in the bath in her Airbnb in Rapid City.
But she hasn’t once asked for it or questioned where it is.
I haven’t gone through it or read her texts, but I did check her calendar to see if there was any mention of birth control or a doctor’s appointment.
The only thing I found was a reminder for her to get another birth control shot next week, which I deleted.
If she insists on getting the shot, I won’t stop her, but even if she hasn’t agreed to having a baby yet, I have no intention of stopping fucking her, or not filling her with my cum.
I want her pregnant as soon as possible, and unless she actively seeks out a doctor to stop that from happening, I won’t be reminding her.
Lifting her into my arms, I carry her downstairs, then sit down on the sofa with her on my lap. Leaning forward, I pick up the iPad from the makeshift coffee table and hand it to her. “Order us some furniture, wife.”
Taking the iPad, she starts to scroll through home decor websites, while I turn on the TV. After an hour, and with a new couch, a dining table, chairs, and a coffee table ordered, she lowers the iPad to her lap and turns to face me.
“You want to have a baby?”
“As soon as possible,” I inform her.
“That’s crazy.”
I open my mouth to remind her yet again that I have medical proof of my mental health status, but she interrupts me.
“I know, I know, you have a note that proves you’re not nuts. But this”—she waves her hand in the air angrily—“is fucking nuts. We’ve known each other for less than a week and been married for three days, and you already want to have a baby.”
“Yes,” I tell her simply.
“We’re not having a baby,” she says dismissively, picking the iPad up again and pretending to look at the screen, even though she’s just on the checkout screen confirming the last order she made and there’s nothing new to look at.
“I’ve ejaculated inside of you many, many times. You could already be pregnant,” I inform her.
“I’m on birth control,” she snaps.
“Birth control isn’t one hundred percent effective.”
“Then you need to start wearing condoms or pulling out.”
“No.”
“No,” she repeats loudly.
“No. My ejaculate belongs inside of you.”
“Cum,” she shrieks. “Call it cum, for fuck’s sake.”
“All of my cum is solely for your cunt,” I say slowly and clearly.
Neither of us speaks again, and the room settles into a stiff silence, only broken by the sounds of the TV.
“Why?” Doll finally asks, her voice so low I barely hear her.
“Because I want us to be a family.”
“And that can’t be a family of two? What if I never want kids? Is that a deal breaker?”
“You do want kids,” I say confidently.
Rolling her eyes, she sighs. “Fine, I do want kids, but not a week after meeting my husband. What’s wrong with waiting ten years? I’m only twenty-three.”
“But I’m not. I’m thirty-eight,” I remind her.
“So you want to baby trap me because your biological clock is ticking?” she asks.
“Yes,” I admit bluntly.
Her eyes widen, and she stares at me like she can’t believe I just admitted that, but I don’t lie. Lying has never made sense to me. I’d rather just be honest.
“So you plan to get me pregnant, even if that’s not what I want.”
“I don’t plan to stop filling your cunt with my cum at every chance I get with the intention of putting my baby in you, no,” I admit.
“You don’t care what I think?”
“I believe that once my baby is growing inside of you, you’ll be happy.”
Instead of anger or skepticism, Doll looks pensive, slumping back into my chest as she taps the iPad and continues to shop.
“Can you show me where my boxes are?” she asks after we’ve finished cleaning up from dinner.
“Of course,” I agree, placing the last plate back into the cabinet before taking her hand and leading her out of the kitchen and toward the garage.
After her things were delivered, I stacked them in the corner of the garage, then pushed them to the back of my mind, more interested in claiming my wife over and over than thinking about unpacking. But when I lead her over to them, I’m surprised by how few there are.
“Does this look like everything?” I ask her.
“I forgot there were this many. I can’t even remember what’s in them all,” she says, stepping away from me to bend over and check out the label on the one on the top of the stack.
My dick twitches again as several inches of her creamy ass are exposed when the fabric of her shorts rides up her butt. Reaching down, I adjust myself in my boxers, then step forward to help. “I’ll carry them all into the living room, and we can unpack them.”
“God, do we have to? I just want my sketch pad and my pens. The rest can wait until my pussy stops pulsing.”
“Pulsing? Should I call a doctor?” I ask, feeling all of my muscles tense as my body goes on high alert.
“God, no. I’m just sore and tired and cranky. I think I labeled the boxes with all my tattoo equipment, so we can just take them, because I’ll need them tomorrow anyway. We can leave the rest for another day.”
Nodding, I start to separate the ones she points out from the stack, then carry them into the living room, placing them onto the kitchen counter.
Walking into the kitchen, Doll finds a pair of scissors in the drawer and starts to slice through the tape keeping each box closed.
After rooting through the first box, she sighs, then moves onto the next, letting out a celebratory hoot when she pulls out a large sketch pad and a massive black zipped case, which I’m assuming is the pens she wanted.
“All of these are going to the studio?” I ask, pointing to the boxes.
“Yep,” she answers, but she’s already distracted with the pad, carrying it and the pens over to the couch and sinking down onto it.
“I’ll put them in the trunk of the car,” I tell her.
Nodding absently, she lifts her hand into the air and throws me a thumbs-up sign, but her attention is on the black case, which she’s opened and is attentively staring at, running her finger over the pens until she selects the one she wants and pulls it out.
Leaving the garage door propped open so I can see her, I stack the four boxes into the trunk of my car before returning to the sofa and sinking down beside Doll.
Instead of the paper being blank, it’s now an abstract—but clearly identifiable—landscape of the mountain we live on, with our house in the foreground.
Not wanting to interrupt, I quietly watch as she rips the sheet of paper she’s working on off the pad, then just as quickly does another drawing, using the pens like watercolor paints, before picking out details with a black fine liner.