Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Matthias
My wife is incandescent when I help her out of the limo and escort her into the Bellagio.
Maybe this wasn’t a bad idea. I took as much Moon Cure as my veins would allow. My arm aches, but it’s worth it.
Maisy is in an off the shoulder blue gown that matches her eyes. With her long white opera gloves and diamonds sparkling around her neck, she looks like a movie star. People rubberneck as we pass, staring at her as if they’re wondering if she’s someone famous.
When we stop at the bar by the roulette tables for a drink, I tell her this, and she laughs.
“That’s so weird,” she wrinkles her nose. “Usually my friend Missy is the one people stare at. She’s the glamorous one.”
The bartender serves us our drinks. Whiskey for me and pink champagne for her. I let her sip a little and then ask, “How long have you and Missy been friends?”
“Since high school. She was the most popular girl in school.”
“Axel has a thing for her,” I confide.
“What?” Her forehead wrinkles, then she nods. “I guess I see it. I once thought there was something between them. They both disappeared at prom. I noticed because he was supposed to be my date. And she pretends like she can’t stand him, but she mentions him a lot.”
“Maybe we should be matchmakers,” I murmur. It’s fun to conspire with my wife, but I also want to torture Axel a little.
“Like Daisy? We can trap them on the Ferris wheel together.”
“Sounds like a plan.” I brush a curl back from her face. She’s brushed glitter over her cheeks to make them pink and pretty. The color reminds me of her well-fucked pussy.
Does she know that I'm obsessed with her? That there’s no other woman for me?
Does she know she’s it for me?
I lean in closer. “One more thing. I’m sure Missy is lovely, but I’ve never noticed her. It’s always been you.”
Maisy
Matthias leans on the bar, posing like he’s in a photo shoot. In his black tuxedo, he looks like a star of the silver screen. The sort of handsome heartthrob who banters with a tall, regal femme fatale.
I don’t feel like I deserve to be on his arm, but he thinks I do, so I keep my shoulders straight.
“High school was hard,” I share with him.
“Dealing with Allen…my self esteem was a wreck. I was grateful Missy even noticed me. She’s a beauty queen, you know.
Her parents made her do all sorts of pageants as a kid.
And then she was always the star of our theater productions.
I guess I got used to hiding in her shadow. ”
“No more hiding.” He tips my face up to his. “I’m going to show you off to the world.”
He kisses me right there in the casino, and then everyone's jaws drop with jealousy. He escorts me with a hand on my back to the Cirque du Soleil theater.
“Do you want to play a little roulette?” he murmurs, but I shake my head. The casino floor is crowded, and the stale smell of cigarette smoke reminds me of Allen.
Matthias’ friend who owns the house where we’re staying has season tickets that come with VIP perks.
They allow us to get into the theater early.
We have seats in the balcony right next to the stage.
When people start filing in to take their seats, I keep waiting for more people to come and sit in the seats around us, but no one does.
“Is this a private box?” I ask.
“Maybe. Or maybe I bought all the tickets to this balcony, so I could have you all to myself.” He stretches out his arm along the back of my seat.
“This is the best date ever,” I tell him.
“I have a confession to make. I read your journal when you left it at the clinic. I saw your list of symptoms, and…” He rubs the back of his neck. “I shouldn’t have done it, but you were in pain, and I wanted to help.”
“It’s okay.” I put a hand on his knee. “I’m glad you helped me.”
“I saw your New Year’s resolution list. It fell out of the journal.”
I think of my bulleted list. Glow up, go on a date… “Oh. Did you read it?”
“Yes.”
A hot rush of embarrassment closes my throat.
I rub it, wishing I could wipe the flush away.
My fingers touch the diamond necklace, and I play with one of the jewels until I can speak.
“So when I asked you on a date…is that why you said yes? To help me?” I’m afraid to ask the real question. Was it a pity date?
“No.” His voice deepens. “Maisy, look at me.”
I shake my head a little. I can’t. I don’t dare to, in case he looks sorry for me.
With a growl he grabs my hand and places it right on his crotch. “Do you feel this?”
My mouth parts in shock. I’m in a gown, he’s in a tux, and here he is in the theater, pushing his hard cock into my hand.
“This isn’t me helping you,” he bites out like he’s angry, but I know he’s not. Or if he is, he’s not angry at me. “This is pure homegrown lust. That's what I feel for you.”
I nod, still not able to look at him. He turns to me and pulls me against his chest, so I can hide my hot face against him.
“We’re going to work on this,” he murmurs, a warrior, picking up a sword to slay my inner demons. “There’s no reason for you to think badly of yourself.”
“Okay,” I whisper. If Matthias wants to be my champion, willing to fight my own insecurities, I’m all for it. Sometimes I need a little help. “Thank you.”
“No more negative self-talk, beautiful. I won’t allow it.”
Yes, daddy. I bite my lip.
In the theater, a few acrobat dancers make their way into the aisles with a little pre-show to entertain us. The main event is going to start soon.
Matthias releases me, so I can compose myself. Once I wipe the wetness from my eyes, he takes my hand and squeezes it. I can feel him wanting to ask if I’m okay, so I whisper to him, “Where do zombies like to go swimming?”
“The Dead Sea,” he whispers back.
I figure that’s the end of it, but even when the first act starts, I can feel him watching me.
The show is incredible. I can’t tear my eyes away from the synchronized swimming, the contortionists, or the acrobats performing high above the pool, but my nerves are afire, aware of my husband beside me.
He’s almost vibrating with energy. All his muscles are tense like he’s containing the force of his lust.
Halfway through the first act, he slides his hand onto my satin-covered knee. “Spread your legs, little wife.”
My pussy throbs, anticipating his touch. I lean back a little, and push my knees apart.
“My good, obedient girl. Keep watching the show.”
I fix my eyes on the stage, but my gaze goes hazy as he lifts my skirt and finds a way underneath.
At first he’s just stroking my knee, then upper thigh, but at a climatic part of the show, when the acrobats are bouncing on a trampoline that sends them thirty feet into the air before they flip into the water, his fingers edge close to my pussy.
My gasp is swallowed by the oohs and ahhs of the crowd.
He brushes my folds and makes a noise when he feels how wet I am.
I get a little reprieve at intermission. He sits back and pulls my dress down. “Do you want anything to eat or drink?”
I shake my head.
“We’re having dinner after this, but I wanted something sweet.” He licks his fingers.
I duck my head, and he growls, “Don’t hide from me. Let me see those blushes. beautiful, I'm obsessed with you.”
I rub my arm, mumbling, “I need to lose some weight.”
“Absolutely not. I forbid it. I want all of this.” He places his huge hand on the swell of my belly. “Soft belly, soft thighs. I’m going to make sure you eat well. Cook for you every night. You're going to eat lots of fruits and vegetables, plus lots of protein and healthy fats. Omega-3s.”
“What about my Omega 69s?” I bat my eyelashes at him.
“Can’t forget those.” He grins. “I’ll give you lots of treats. But I know which one will be your favorite.”
I glance down at the bulge in his tuxedo pants.
“That’s right, beautiful. I eat pineapple regularly.”
I perk up at that. “I read that can change the taste of semen. It makes it sweet.”
“I'm gonna make sure I taste good for you because you love sucking my cock. Don't you?” Oh, it gets me hot when he slips right into dirty talk in the middle of an ordinary conversation.
I say yes, sir even though it’s muffled by the finger in my mouth.
“You’ll get plenty of exercise, too. Your body is a work of art, and I’m going to admire it properly. And care for it. I'll give you very thorough checkups every single night.”
I groan. “Will you wear the glasses?”
“Yes, Maisy, I'll wear the glasses just for you.” He sets his hand around my throat again and leans in to kiss me. He smells like expensive cologne, sandalwood and ambergris, with a wild woodsy flavor underneath. My handsome husband. I can hardly believe he’s mine.
The second act starts, and he kneels down in front of me. “What are you doing?”
“Do you trust me?”
We’re in public. I mean, we’re on a balcony, and the lights are down, and no one can really see but… “Yes?”
“I'm going to need a yes, sir.” He picks up my hand and kisses my knuckles right next to the wedding ring. “If this makes you uncomfortable, I’ll sit back in my seat and pretend I didn't order you not to wear panties, so I could have easy access to this sweet pussy.”
Oh God. “Yes, sir. Please.” I widen my knees.
He pushes up my skirt again. His hot breath hits my folds, and I almost collapse. “I’m going to eat my dessert first. You're not going to come for me until I say. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
And so the torture begins.
He plays with my pussy, licking it like I’m a bowl of ice cream, and he doesn’t have a spoon. I clench my teeth and try not to cry out.
It’s only when the final act comes that he lifts his head.
“I don't want you to hold back; you're going to come for me.”
Down on stage, the acrobats swan dive a death-defying distance into the pool.
I’m nervous–I don’t want to make a scene. I can’t pretend that doing this in public doesn’t add an edge to the delicious torment.
He lowers his head and licks and licks and licks, pushing me toward the pinnacle. My pleasure crests, and I cry out just as the curtains close and people jump to their feet with a roar of applause.