Chapter 16 Kat
Chapter sixteen
David Wiltshire, on his fourth marriage. Six kids total between the first three wives and another on the way. He enjoys golfing and boating in his free time. Ha, no surprise there.
Jonathan Beaumont operates mostly from France after marrying a French model. Only on his second wife. His children have been estranged since he changed his will. Fan of sailing.
Nathan Ellis took over his father’s empire around the same time as Henry. Engaged to a European heiress. Recently took a hiatus from the company to take his yacht around the Caribbean.
“There were several salacious rumors about that hiatus involving more than one illegitimate child.” Henry reaches across the back seat and rests his hand on my thigh, squeezing slightly. “Katarina, you’ll be fine.”
“I didn’t realize I was speaking out loud, but of course I’ll be fine,” I say, giving him my most polished, charming smile.
Henry chuckles, pulling my hand from my lap and kissing my knuckles. “I know you will be. You’ve been mumbling the whole ride, though, and I don’t want you to stress yourself out about tonight. You’re already going to blow everyone away.”
“Hmm, perhaps. Henry?”
“Yes?”
“Do you have a boat? It seems there’s a trend among your peers when it comes to aquatic hobbies.”
Henry’s laughter deepens. A sound I’ve grown to love above most others. “Yes, we have a boat. A very nice, very large yacht.”
The car stops, and my husband hops out with haste I’ve yet to see from him. I take my time to unfasten my seat belt, and before I know it, my door is pulled open and Henry has extended his hand to mine.
He pulls my hand to his mouth and bends down slightly to kiss my knuckles again. When he hovers just a moment longer than before, his hot breath against my skin sends chills through my body. “Mrs. Sinclair.”
When he’s successfully helped me out of the car, he bends his arm, allowing me to loop mine through, and leans down to whisper in my ear. “Your beauty is otherworldly, Katarina. I don’t think I’ll be able to tell you enough how stunning you look tonight.”
“Henry! It’s great to see you!”
A man who looks to be around the same age as my husband walks up and pulls him into a hug, much more familiar than the greetings of stiff handshakes we've been receiving since walking inside. “And who do we have here? This lovely lady can’t be the mysterious wife we’ve heard so much about, can it?”
“Ah, Charles Dawson, it’s been too long. This is indeed my incredibly lovely wife, Mrs. Katarina Sinclair.”
The man turns his attention to me. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Sinclair,” he says, shaking my hand.
“The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Dawson, and please, call me Kat,” I say with a smile.
“In that case, call me Chuck. I’m not sure if Henry has mentioned me. We went to school together in England and got into our fair share of trouble,” he says, squeezing Henry’s shoulder.
“Of course he has. I believe he’s mentioned your hobby for picking locks, having come in handy time and time again.”
“Oh, so you do remember me!” He chuckles, looking at Henry.
“When I found out you were married, I thought you must have forgotten about me. That’s the only plausible reason I wouldn’t have received an invitation.
But now that I’ve met her, I believe you were just trying to keep Kat’s beauty hidden lest you have some competition. ”
Chuck winks at me, and I can’t help but smile. He’s a rather charming man, and not terrible on the eyes either. If not for my Greek god of a husband, I might call him handsome?
Henry pulls me against his body so fast, I’m surprised I don’t have whiplash. “That will be enough, Dawson. We’ve got to make our way to our seats soon anyway.”
“Ugh, I hate this part of these events. An hour of boring speech after speech before we can get to the fun part of the night,” Chuck says, not seeming to notice Henry’s caveman behavior. “Again, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Kat. I hope you’ll save a dance for me later?”
“I wouldn’t count on any dances with Mrs. Sinclair,” Henry says and pulls me away, placing a hand on the small of my back in an obvious act of possession.
As he guides me through the crowd to our table, his fingers trail lower and lower. His touch has been constant but modest since we’ve arrived, but by the time we reach our table, he’s practically groping my ass.
It’s been over a week since the incident in the bath, and I’ve been doing my best to avoid him, but I’ve missed his touch.
I’ve missed him. Whatever feelings of rejection I’ve felt since then have all but disappeared.
After countless touches, countless compliments, and the way he looks at me, he’s made his desire clear.
“Thank you,” I say when he pulls back my chair.
“Come here, wife,” Henry says, pulling my chair against his, throwing his arm around my shoulders, and leaning his head close to mine. “You’re the most beautiful woman in the world. Have I told you that tonight?”
“Only about twenty times,” I breathe out.
“Mmm, so not nearly enough,” he whispers in my ear before slowly trailing his nose down the curve of my neck and placing a kiss on the edge of my bare shoulder.
“You’re the most beautiful. Stunning. Extraordinary. Breathtaking. Brilliant. Goddess of a woman. To have ever. Existed,” he whispers, each word punctuated with a kiss as he makes his way back up my neck.
The kisses are chaste in nature, but the combination of his words and his breath on my neck sends a flood of arousal to my core.
When he pulls back to look at me, his eyes are level with mine and darker than I’ve ever seen them. “And you’re mine.”
Oh. Dear. God. I can’t breathe. And I’m going to leave a puddle on this chair if I don’t do something fast. “Erm…I should probably freshen up before this starts,” I say, doing my best to stand gracefully in my current state.
The powder room is surprisingly empty, allowing me my choice of stalls. I rush to the one farthest from the entrance and close the door behind me, breathing deeply to calm myself.
I’ve finally gotten my heart rate down when the door creaks open.
Heels click on the marble floor in different cadences, indicating multiple women.
Wanting to avoid any small talk, I wait for the sound of stall doors closing before making my exit, but it never comes.
All I hear is the faucet turning on, and I’ve waited long enough that it would be awkward to leave now.
“Any chance we can hide out here until the dancing starts?” a woman asks in a husky voice.
“Ugh, I know. I hate these stupid ceremonial speeches. Like, everyone here is already going to donate, just take our money and let us be!” another woman replies, her tone lighter and airier but no less grating.
The screeching laughter threatens to do serious damage to my eardrums, but their voices are distinct enough that I can confidently assume there are only two women.
“Did you see Henry?” Husky asks. “I mean, did you see Henry and his wife?”
“Yes! Have you heard the rumors?” asks woman number two.
“That he knocked her up? Yeah, right. You know as well as I do that Henry Sinclair never goes bare. Not even with him being so particular about his women being on birth control. He made my doctor send him a notarized confirmation that I had undergone the implant. Not that you can’t feel it in your arm regardless. ”
I’m frozen. I obviously can’t leave now, but I’m suddenly aware of any noise I make. Not that I can breathe anyway as I listen to these women discuss having sex with my husband. Something I’ve been longing for but that he keeps avoiding.
“Same girl, same. There just has to be more to this story. She’s so young.
There’s no way she’s experienced enough for him.
He doesn’t even accept applications from partners with less than five years of experience in the lifestyle.
In fact, there’s a renowned submissive at one of my favorite clubs who had had ten years of experience but only two partners, and he didn’t give her a chance. ”
“Maybe he just finally fell for someone? I mean, have you noticed how handsy he’s been all night? Have you ever known him to be so touchy?”
“Ha! Funny. Minimal touching, no kissing, minimal eye contact. He has so many rules against intimacy. Honestly, it’s really a wonder he’s such a sought-after Dom.”
“You’ve seen the man. He’s built like a god! Who wouldn’t want a chance at that? And his cock…I’ve yet to come across one bigger. And goddamn can he fuck. Even if it was only from behind, I’ve never come so much in my life.”
“You too? I thought maybe it was just me, but you’re right, I certainly didn’t mind not kissing when he was dealing out one orgasm after another. I wonder if this has anything to do with his last sub, Lori? He terminated their contract early, and I heard she made a huge deal about it.”
“You know we all tried to be the woman to get him longer than his standard one-year contract, so whatever it is that she did, I’m certainly jealous.”
“Ugh, they're about to start. Let’s go.”
They’re out in a flash, but I’ve lost my ability to breathe yet again. Henry told me about his past with BDSM and was clear that he would tell me anything I wanted to know. I really should’ve asked him. I would’ve preferred to hear his explanation of things instead of from two of his past partners.
He apparently wasn’t touchy with them, but did he care for them? Did he bring them to the home we now share? Did they swim in my pool or eat at my table? Did they sleep in his bed?
I’m trying to convince myself that what we have is different.
He touches me, and he certainly makes eye contact.
He won't kiss me, though, so maybe I’m no different.
After all, our relationship is just another contract, isn't it? At least he personally chose those women. He had no choice with me. And he certainly hasn’t tried to fuck me.
Music bleeds into the powder room, signaling the start of the ceremony. Breathe, Kat, breathe.
Summoning all the grace I can, I hold my head high and make my way to the front. I can feel the eyes of everyone at each table as I pass, threatening my composure.
I practically fall into my seat when I finally reach my chair, but Henry immediately reaches for me. “Are you alright? You seem flushed.” The concern in his eyes is evident as he rubs his thumb across the top of my hand.
“I must have had too much champagne. I should be fine in a minute,” I say, reveling in his touch as he wraps his arm around me and pulls my head to him, kissing the top before letting his hand rest on the back of my chair.
His hand finds my arm, stroking tenderly up and down throughout the ceremony, calming my nerves. Making me believe I do mean something special to him after all. By the time it’s over, I’m feeling much better about things and ready to spend the evening dancing with my husband.
That is, until I hear a familiar husky voice.
“Henry! How are you, darling?”
Turning, I see two gorgeous women, both built like models with legs for days. I’m sure they’re much closer to Henry’s age as well. They both look young, but there’s an air of maturity there, too.
If my husband is shocked to see them, he hides it well. “Hello, Val, Melissa,” he says, holding out his hand to greet them. It’s as stiff a welcome as he gave every middle-aged man, but it still ignites a burning jealousy in my heart.
“And who is this?” the woman with the higher-pitched voice, Melissa, asks.
Henry smiles down at me. “This is my wife—”
“Mrs. Sinclair.” I interrupt, holding out my hand. Henry raises an eyebrow and smirks. My introduction clearly amuses him, but he doesn’t say anything.
Each woman shakes my hand and introduces themselves. Not knowing I was eavesdropping on their previous conversation, they recount their relationship with Henry as “old friends,” and to my dismay, he doesn’t correct that when they leave.
Whatever resolve I felt during the ceremony is gone as Henry leads me to the dance floor, and by the time I’m in his arms, I’m fighting tears.
My husband immediately senses my change in demeanor, something I would typically find charming, if not for my current emotional crisis. “Kitten, what’s wrong?” he asks, his tone gentle.
“I’m just not feeling well tonight,” I say, placing my head on his chest so he can’t see the tears welling up in my eyes. “I just want to go home.”
“Let’s go home then.”
He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t ask if I can make it a little longer. He doesn’t protest that this is his gala and he shouldn’t be leaving this early in the night. He just leads me to the exit and helps me into the car.
The ride home is quiet, especially after I pulled my hand away when Henry tried to hold it. He patted my thigh and apologized that I wasn’t feeling well. He hasn’t tried to touch me since.
He’s been perfect, actually. The entire night, he’s been nothing but attentive and caring. Flirting with me and complimenting me. Driving me insane with his touch. Taking care of me and putting my needs before anything else.
I shouldn’t be reacting like this to a silly conversation, but what I overheard was the last straw breaking through six weeks of emotions I haven’t been able to even understand fully, much less deal with.
The car is barely parked when I fling open the door, running to my room before he can follow. My youth is already a sore spot for him. I don’t need him to see me falling apart over his exes like a jealous, immature schoolgirl.
I’m on my bed crying my eyes out when I hear a knock on the door.
“Katarina? Are you okay, darling?” His voice is soft, but I can hear his concern.
I do my best to calm my crying so my voice doesn’t come out shaky. “I’m fine, Henry, just not feeling well.”
“Is there anything I can do for you?”
Yes, hold me. Kiss me. Take me back to your bed and make love to me.
“No, I’ll be fine, I promise. Good night, Henry.”
The door handle turns slightly, halted by the lock. “Good night, Kitten.”