39. The Clever Wife
The Clever Wife
Bastian
T hey kept me in the hospital room as if I was a prisoner. It was annoying and depressing.
I admitted that I wasn't in great shape. My legs didn't work like they used to, but my arms improved significantly. My physiotherapist, an enthusiastic forty-year-old doctor with a perfect record from Harvard and a recommendation letter from the best hospital in the States, did a fantastic job.
My legs needed more time, but I was making amazing progress. I couldn't be happier about leaving this hell hole with frowning nurses and distasteful food.
For a month, Andreas kept me updated on the lawsuit, the investigation, and other problems that showed up with the police and my alleged relationship with a subordinate. The case had no breakthrough, but we had to stay vigilant. Sarah could surprise us with some nonsense anytime.
Derek always came when I called him to tell me how the business was going.
Peter stayed with me every evening and went through reports and contracts, and Rosalind was the source of juicy gossip and behind-the-curtain talks.
She knew everything in Thorn Enterprises and shared every minor detail with me .
However, my biggest supporter was my incredible wife. Electra was with me during every physiotherapy, exercise, or examination. She spent all her time with me, helping me with basic things, and as much as I was grateful for it, I also felt very uncomfortable and incapable.
I was often rude, annoyed, and grumpy, but she kept a smile on her face and did everything she could to make me feel better.
But I just couldn't help myself. I was slowly losing my mind.
At least Fredy listened to my pleas and brought me some work; otherwise, I didn't know what to do with so much free time.
"Good morning, handsome."
Electra danced in the room in a knee-high purple dress with short sleeves, a deep neckline showing a big piece of her cleavage, and a radiant smile. Her blonde hair was up in a high ponytail, and her high heels clicked on the floor. I was at a loss for words. She looked stunning.
"No greeting, sir?" She lifted an elegant eyebrow at me, placing bananas, oranges, and my favorite pears on the plate on my nightstand.
"Sorry, princess," I mumbled, staring at her breasts, which she stuck right in my face when she added one more cushion behind my back. "I'm enjoying the view."
"Do you like it?" She flashed me another brilliant smile and turned around, showing me her dress from all angles. Yet all I could think about was how much weight she’d lost, and even when she looked happy and cheerful, there was something weird behind her ecstatic expression.
"It's beautiful," I said sincerely, stretching my arm towards her. She took it without hesitation. "You're beautiful."
"Thank you, sir."
She leaned closer and kissed my lips, making my heartbeat increase rapidly. Nothing changed from the time before the accident. She completely owned me—body and soul .
"I can't wait to take you home and take care of you properly," she whispered, tracing her finger down my cheek, and my eyes widened in pleasant surprise.
"Really?" I muttered. My imagination went wild, but it was abruptly stopped by worries about my physical condition. It occurred to me a few times that I could face some problems downstairs.
"Of course." She nodded slightly, pecking the corner of my mouth. "Wife knows best what her husband needs."
Without a second thought, I pulled her closer and crushed my lips on hers. In no time, she climbed the bed and straddled me, and her palms moved to my chest and down my abdomen to the hem of my sweatpants.
"You're taking this s-seriously, princess," I mumbled when she gently bit my lip. The glint in her hazel eyes showed me she wasn't bluffing. She was determined to get something from me.
"I need you," she breathed, cupping my face with her soft palms. "And the doctor said it's up to us."
I gently took her wrists and moved her hands away from my face. The feeling of embarrassment filled my chest.
"You asked the doctor…wait, what exactly?" I furrowed my brows, blinking in confusion.
"I asked him about sex," she replied, chewing her bottom lip, and I almost rolled my eyes at her.
"I almost died, princess," I reminded her with a pointed look, and she grimaced. "I was in a coma," I continued, and she pouted, crossing her arms over her chest. "And all you think about is sex?"
"I see the way you're looking at me," she stated, her resolute expression almost made me smile. She was so cute when she tried to be in control of the situation. "You would never hesitate to command me something crazy before. But for some reason, you are hesitating now."
"After everything that happened, this is your concern? That we don't have sex?" I asked, my stomach in knots. I naively expected her not to notice anything, yet she knew me too well.
"Are you afraid of performance, Bastian?" she countered, and before I could stop myself, my body reacted instinctively. I pulled myself up a little, and my hand wrapped around her throat.
She froze, staring at me like a deer in headlights.
"What did you say, princes?" I hissed in a deadly serious voice, holding her in place, and her nails dug into my bicep. "Do I look scared?"
"N-no, sir," she breathed, her body trembling, and I felt my cock hardening. It happened a few times already, but not with such intensity. She was right; I needed this. I needed her like this—like a quivering little obedient mess ready to do anything I would want.
Fuck, she was perfect.
I brushed my nose against her cheek, chuckling darkly when she wriggled her pussy against my cock.
She knew exactly what she was doing. I would bet my last penny that everything she did since she walked into the room this morning was on purpose.
Gorgeous tight dress, plunging neckline, hair in a ponytail so it didn't get in the way, and, of course, extremely high heels so her ass looked like it was made in Photoshop. I married a clever manipulator.
"Your face is begging to be fucked," I growled into her ear, relishing in her quiet whimpers. Her pulse under my fingers beat fast like she ran a marathon.
"Get to work, wifey," I commanded sternly, letting go of her neck. I leaned back into the cushions, enjoying the view when she moved her hands down my abdomen to my sweatpants and freed my rock-solid cock.
"Fuck, how I missed this," I groaned, tilting my head back when she licked my entire length and took me between her splendid crimson-red lips. She sucked my dick leisurely, her warm tongue tracing the veins and her long nails gently scratching the sensitive skin on my inner thighs.
Her wet eyes connected with mine when she almost swallowed my cock down her throat, and a tear ran down her cheek, smearing her makeup. She took me nice and deep, gagging and gasping for air when I grabbed her ponytail and pushed her down roughly .
"That's my good girl," I praised, and she quickened her rhythm. With one hand, she massaged my balls, and with the other, she squeezed my thigh. My body tightened, followed by a massive explosion.
" Oh , fuck, princess," I grunted, my eyes rolling to the back of my skull. Black dots appeared in front of my eyes, and I panted, looking down between my legs where my gorgeous wife licked the last remains of my cum and winked at me.
"You're amazing," I muttered, her lips stretched into that wide, radiant smile I loved so much.
"You're welcome, sir."
She exited the bed and fished the small mirror from her purse. Her mascara and eyeshadows were everywhere on her face, but she didn't seem to mind. I adjusted my sweatpants and covered my legs with a blanket, staring at her like a lovesick puppy.
She returned to me after a few minutes, looking like some goddess, and I couldn't stop the satisfying grin settling on my face. She took my hand and entwined our fingers, making circles with her thumb on my skin.
"Did you enjoy it?" she asked quietly, glancing everywhere but me.
I had to force my brain to cooperate because it was still clouded with postorgasmic bliss, but it didn't take me long to understand it was just an act. This confident woman who walked into my room was just role-playing.
Shit! This coma thing really messed up my head.
"What do you think?" I teased, and she visibly relaxed. The thick ropes of guilt enveloped my heart and squeezed it tightly. How could I be so blind?
"Why did you do it, princess?" I inquired, studying her beautiful face, and she sighed heavily. I had more questions, but I needed her to start talking. I ignored her needs for far too long.
"I got scared, I guess," she whispered, shrugging. "It's been almost a month, and you didn't show any interest in me."
"Okay, come here." I patted the place next to me, and she lay down, resting her head on my chest .
"I am scared of performance," I admitted quietly, for some odd reason ashamed of myself. "I almost died, and any man in my position would be happy to move his fingers, but I'm not some average person."
She raised her head, looking at my face, listening to my every word with love swirling in her eyes. Her hand on my chest caressed me through the T-shirt, giving me the strength to continue. I felt extremely vulnerable and highly uncomfortable, but I had to be honest with her. She deserved it.
"You know me, princess. I would never settle for something mediocre," I whispered, drifting my gaze to the ceiling because my feelings and her glance overwhelmed me. "I didn't think you would be interested in me in this state."
And, it was out. My deepest fear wasn't from performance but from her rejection. My heart painfully clenched in my chest, and I gritted my teeth.
"How can you say that?" she breathed, her voice strained with emotions. "I would be with you no matter what."
"I know, baby girl," I said, cupping her cheeks with my palms. "And that's the problem. You should never settle with less than you deserve."
"Stop saying that nonsense," she snapped, sitting up.
"It's the truth," I objected, holding her hard stare.
She narrowed her eyes at me and looked like she wanted to punch me.
But it didn't stop me from explaining my point.
"Right now, I'm like twenty percent of myself.
It's been almost a month, and I can't stand on my feet.
Do you have any idea how frustrating this is? "
"No, Sebastian, I don't," she replied, and I blinked in confusion because she never called me by my full name. "But what I know is helplessness when a person you love is dying in front of you." She got off the bed, her expression rigid and posture tense.
"I know the fear and anxiety of never speaking again with the person who is the reason you live." She gulped, wetness appeared in her eyes once more, and my stomach sank. "And I also know how hard it is to be dragged into something you never asked for."
"Electra," I whispered, stretching my arm in her direction, but she shook her head, taking her purse .
"I was weak, bleeding, and hurt, and you threw me to the sharks," she said, angrily wiping the lone tear that fell from her eye. "So don't tell me what is frustrating. I know enough."
She stomped out of the room, slamming the door shut and leaving me stunned in the hospital bed. It took me a few long moments to understand what had happened and what she had said.
I knew our marriage was hanging between us like a bomb, and we both tried to avoid detonating it, yet this time, it was inevitable. She did what I asked, but she obviously never fully agreed with it.
For me, it was no different if I married her now, in two months, or in five years later.
I wanted to spend my life with her. Still, the circumstances of our marital status were slightly bizarre, and I felt like some gesture was needed to prove to her that I loved and wanted her.
And I had all the time in the world to come up with something special.