Chapter 21 #2
She glances at Cora’s hand, searching for a ring, and frowns. “Your wife? You married a maid?”
Cora snorts, and I’m not sure if that’s good or bad for me. She walks over to Sissy. “I’m Cora Winslow…” She pauses, glancing at me. “Winslow-Stone, and I’m a small business owner. I live here, and I think it’s time for you to leave.”
Sissy blinks so hard, I worry her fake lashes may fly off. She looks at me, gaping, and then she huffs. “Why wasn’t I invited to the wedding?”
Cora snorts again, and I question my sanity, because I used to spend time with this woman.
“I’m sorry, Sissy, your invitation must have gotten lost. The postal service these days,” Cora says, and fuck, I want to kiss her.
“What a shame.” Sissy jumps at the opportunity to save face. “Well, my apologies, Cora,” she says with zero sincerity. “Have a nice life.” She marches out of the room, the door slamming behind her.
Cora’s shoulders shake, her head bowed.
“Cora,” I rasp, itching to take her into my arms, but not sure it wouldn’t cost me my balls.
She looks at me, her lips twitching, and I realize she is trying to stifle a laugh.
“You’re not mad?”
“Oh, I was really mad, but while I waited, I realized that I can’t be mad you had a life before this arrangement. I knew how colorful that life was, so I can’t blame you for that.”
The fact that she calls our marriage an arrangement makes me want to bend her over and teach her a lesson, but this is not the best time. I’m relieved she’s laughing off the whole situation.
“Thank you. I don’t understand why she would just show up like this.” I shrug.
Cora sighs. “After I stopped being mad, I killed time thinking about all the women you used to date.”
I wince.
“I don’t look like them. I will never be as young or as put-together as they are. I sat in that room filled with insecurities. And then, I remembered what Saar and Celeste told me.” She pauses, and I try to regulate my heartbeat. “You chose me.”
How does she always surprise me? When I expected a scene, I got a heartfelt confession, her vulnerability forcing me to vow I’d never put her in this position.
“You were jealous.” I grin, lightening the load.
She rolls her eyes. “Until I talked to her. I don’t understand how you could have dated her.”
“We didn’t date.”
Cora snorts. “Okay. How could you have spent time with her?”
“Fair point.” I finally crowd her and snake my arms around her waist, inhaling her scent. “I missed you.”
She wraps her hands around my neck. “That’s good.”
“My cock would disagree.” I wink, and she narrows her eyes. “Too soon?” I kiss her forehead. “Thank you for being so understanding.”
“I might not be mad, but in light of this unfortunate encounter, I have a condition to add to our arrangement.” She plays with the hair on my neck, a mindless gesture I’ve grown to love.
“Name it.”
“We’ll live in my apartment while we wait for the closing on the townhouse.”
I step back. “Are you…” Out of your mind probably wouldn’t be the right reaction given the circumstances. “Sure?”
“Yes. The cats are there anyway, and it’s only for a few weeks.”
“Your shower is tiny.” I name one of the zillions of objections that spring to my mind.
She chuckles. “It has hot, running water.”
“The commute…”
She folds her arms, scowling.
I sigh. “Okay, we’ll live there.” God help me. “Can I take you shopping now?” I suggest, because first, Sissy killed the mood, and second, I want to treat this amazing, understanding woman.
“I don’t need more islands,” she deadpans.
“I was thinking another hospital stay,” I tease.
“If I break your nose, perhaps. Not funny. What do you have in mind?”
Laughing, I take her hand. “Let’s start with a ring.”
“So your girlfriends don’t mistake me for a maid?”
I guess she saw Sissy’s pointed look.
Shopping with a woman is generally painful. Shopping with my wife is torture. Mostly because she doesn’t want to buy anything.
But the ring on her finger—my ring—improved my mood, so I suffer. At least the world knows now that she is mine.
And hopefully, one day soon enough, she will accept it.
“Let’s just ease you into it. Why don’t we set a budget, and you just forget about what you need and lean into what you want?” I walk through the door of a boutique.
“Okay, so what’s the budget?” Cora asks, her tone light, humoring me.
“Let’s start you slowly. Fifty thousand.” I shrug.
She laughs, but stops wide-eyed. “You’re serious?”
“Not enough?” Fuck, I should have said one hundred.
She shakes her head and walks around. She runs her fingers over the silky blouses on a rack, her eyes scanning the minimalist decor.
Finally, after what feels like half a lifetime, she picks some garments that the shop assistant takes to the changing room for her immediately.
Cora stops by the accessories and browses through the headbands. “You’re awfully invested in buying me new clothes. What’s wrong with my old clothes?”
“I saw how the dress for the luncheon transformed you. You may discount it as something silly or frivolous, but dressing for success is a real thing, sweetheart.”
She eyes me for a moment. “Or you just don’t want to be ashamed of me.”
I lower my mouth to her ear. “Keep talking yourself down, and I will bend you over my knee right here.”
My cock twitches as the shudder reverberates through her body.
“You wouldn’t dare,” she breathes.
“Try me.”
Her eyes flash with heat, and we stare at each other between the luxury clothes while I fist my hands so I don’t undress her right here.
I don’t know how long we eye-fuck each other before the shop assistant clears her throat, and we jerk away from each other.
“Do you want to join me in the changing room, or do you need a time-out?” Cora grins, eyeing the tent in my pants.
“Depends.”
“On?”
“Can you be quiet?”
The earlier sensual energy sparks. Cora looks around and toward the changing rooms. “Depends.”
“On?”
“Can you be fast?” She lifts her chin.
“I take as much time as I want with you, Coraline.” I lean in, yanking her to me, my mouth over her ear. “Do you want me to fuck you with my tongue, my fingers, or my cock?”
She grips my shoulders. “Your choice, young man.”
Fuck, I hate it when she calls me that. Turning, she crooks her finger, beckoning me to follow with a smile.
A smile that makes me forget she keeps pointing out the age difference.
A smile that has me walking through the store with a fucking boner.
A smile of sin and promise.
It hits me along with a realization: I may think I’m in charge here, but this woman stripped me of my free will.
Unintentionally.
Unequivocally.
Undeniably.
“Which one should I try first?” she asks, standing in the entrance to the changing room.
I step into her space, pushing her inside, and close the door. “I don’t fucking care what you wear… What you don’t wear, on the other hand…” I take another step.
Her breath hitches. “I need to take off my shirt and my jeans to try these.”
I grip her shirt and yank. Cora gasps as the fabric falls apart, and her body collides with mine. “I can take them off for you.”
Our gazes hold as the world goes still. Absolutely still, for a hungry moment. I lock the door, and when I look back at Cora, she is unzipping her jeans.
“Did you choose, Coraline?” My voice is low and gravely. I’m barely hanging onto my control.
“I haven’t tried anything yet.” Her chest heaves.
“We’re buying all the clothes. I’m talking about fucking, sweetheart.” I whip her around. “Hands on wall.” She obeys, and I lean over her, kissing her shoulder. “Cock, tongue, or fingers?”
She moans.
“You promised to be quiet,” I whisper into her ear.
“You promised to be fast.” She turns her head to kiss me. It’s sloppy and fast.
I spank her ass. “Then stop stalling and choose.”
“What if I want all three?”
Of course she would challenge me. “Okay.”
“What? We can’t—”
But her protest turns into another stifled moan as I pull down her underwear and shove two fingers into her tight heat.
“Look at you, ready for me, dripping already. Such a greedy girl. Such a dutiful wife.” I pump my fingers in and out, my cock getting harder with every reaction—her stifled moans, her contracting cunt, her shivers.
Cora bites her forearm, leaning into my hand. When she starts clamping on my digits like a vise, I withdraw from her and lick my fingers.
She swears, and I laugh. Unlocking, I step outside. I need to make sure I can take care of my wife the way she deserves.
“Wait here,” I order.
“What the fuck, Xander?” She grabs one of the hangers with an untried dress to cover herself.
“Try a few dresses before I come back.”