Chapter 21
Haden
I shake my head as soon as Emilia joins me in the bathroom. I can’t comment on her clothing choice yet because I’m in the middle of brushing my teeth, but I snag her wrist to keep her from escaping until I can rinse and spit.
It’s been four days since I took Emilia to see Kinsley.
Six days since I essentially moved into Emilia’s room.
A week since I arrived. It seems like a year.
That’s how deeply invested I am in this relationship.
So deep that when I told Emilia I was going into the city yesterday with a vague story about ordering some lumber, I was lying.
I really bought her an engagement ring. I’m going to get on one knee tonight at dinner in front of her entire family.
“What?” she asks, cocking her head to the side as if she doesn’t know what I’m silently reprimanding her for.
I chuckle as I thread our fingers together and lead her back to the closet.
My girl really likes to push my buttons with her clothing selections.
She enjoys sparring with me, and she likes having her butt spanked.
I suspect this is going to forever be our dynamic.
She puts sexy clothes on, knowing I will not approve of them, to get a rise out of me, and I physically remove them and choose something else.
When we reach her closet, I wrap an arm around her middle to pin her back to my chest and flip through the hangers. I know I’m being ridiculous. No other man in this house makes his wife dress modestly. But I don’t have to do everything the same as her male relatives.
I’m not Brody, Dallas, Tiago, or Ryder. I’m Haden.
And the thought of men ogling my girl makes my skin crawl.
It’s not about the people who live here.
Those are her sisters, cousins, and brothers.
It’s about the numerous men who come and go every day.
I’m sure the Wilde men would feel similar to me if their wives were working in the site office and regularly interacted with strangers.
Emilia has amazing fucking tits. Perky and high with the cutest little nipples in a mouth-watering shade of pink. They are often erect because I like to keep her aroused. But they are for me to see. No one else.
I’ve never in my life felt this possessive or controlling with a woman. I’ve never dated a woman who elicited this response in me.
It’s Emilia. And it’s one of the reasons I know for a fact she’s the one. My life partner.
Her ass is fantastic, too, so the tight, form-fitting stretchy jeans she wears allow everyone to see her curves. Not to mention the way I can make out her fucking pussy lips through the material.
No. She will not share her body with anyone but me. It’s not up for discussion. But she doesn’t mind. Her daily rebellion is simply to push me to spank her because what she really enjoys is impact play.
When I pick an acceptable shirt, I look down to find her biting her lips.
“Such a naughty girl. Take those pants off.”
“They’re called jeggings.”
“I don’t care what they’re called. Take them off.
Your panties, too. After I blister your bottom, I’ll dress you myself.
” It’s about time I do some shopping and order her new clothes.
Modest clothes. I bet they sell more appropriate shirts and pants and dresses for overbearing neanderthals like me somewhere. Maybe at a religious store.
Emilia makes a production of shimmying out of the jean legging things she calls jeggings and drops them onto the floor. On purpose because she’s messy, and she likes to get a rise out of me for being slobby, too.
“So sassy,” I tsk. “Take everything off, you naughty girl.”
She stares at me while she slowly lifts the tank top over her head and swings it around like she’s a stripper before letting it sail across the room.
This is no hardship for me. She’s so fucking sexy right now, I nearly want to break my abstinence rule. The matching bra-and-panty set is black, lace, and barely existent. My mouth is watering.
After strutting around me like a tigress, she sashays over to the bed, keeping her back to me as she makes a show of reaching back to pop the hook on her bra. She holds it out, drops it on the floor, and then swings her hips back and forth while lowering her panties.
Finally, she plants her hands on the mattress, keeping her arms stretched out, lowers her head between her elbows, so her hair falls toward the floor, and wiggles her bottom enticingly.
Emilia barely resembles the woman who rushed out to greet me at my truck a week ago.
This sassy vixen is bold and confident. When we were in the shower earlier, she told me this was probably the last day of her period, so she’s still wearing a tampon.
It’s oddly fucking sexy that the string is visibly hanging between her obscenely parted legs.
I adjust my cock and approach her. The first thing I do is reach between her parted thighs and drag my fingers through her folds. I love how her greedy pussy is always waiting for me. And the sounds she makes…
I don’t know how I’m going to survive another week without being inside her.
That’s how much time I’m going to give her.
Seven days. By this time next week, she will be at the altar in a gorgeous white dress, staring at me with all the love I always see in her eyes as she gives herself to me forever.
My cock is hard. Instead of spanking her first like I normally do, I circle her clit until she’s panting and her legs are wobbly. Suddenly, I give her bud a little swat.
Emilia jumps a few inches off the floor before jerking her head around to look at me. I’m not sure if she’s going to be mad or pleased, but she’s grinning. “Oh. My. God. Did you just slap my clit?”
I chuckle.
“Do it again.”
Yeah, she’s my girl.
I got you something, I say when we get back to her room after work.
She giggles. “What is it?”
I reach under the bed and pull out the box I stashed under there yesterday.
She claps her hands together, far more excited than I would expect. If this is how she’s going to react to small gifts, I’ll buy her something every fucking day of the week. I like it when she’s happy. I love it when she’s tickled with excitement.
Still giddy, she opens the box and gasps when she lifts out the dress.
I hold my breath. After I bought her ring yesterday, I spent a good amount of time in a boutique picking this out.
It’s nothing special, but I know she likes to wear dresses, and I don’t want her to think that she’s only permitted to look like a nun from now on.
She can wear pretty things that are a bit risqué when strangers aren’t going to see her.
Emilia holds it up and spins around. “I can’t believe you bought me clothes.” She drops it on the bed and wraps her arms around my neck. “I love it.”
I kiss her and thread my fingers in her hair. “If it’s not your style, we can exchange it. I just wanted to buy you something pretty. There’s a bra and panties to go with it in the box, too.”
She glances that way, still smiling. “It’s perfect, and I love it,” she repeats. “Can I wear it to dinner?”
“Yes.”
“Can I wear it to work?” she teases.
“Never.” I bend down a few more inches to grip her bottom and give her cheeks a squeeze.
Emilia squeals. Her ass should still be sore from me spanking it this morning. After swatting her clit until she came, I switched to her bottom and gave her exactly what she needed.
Finally, I release her and give her butt another quick pop. “Shower and get dressed for dinner,” I command.
She skips to the bathroom.
I follow, pleased that she doesn’t even try to close the door. Nor does she flinch as she strips out of the T-shirt and jeans I put on her this morning. I let her wear the black lace bra-and-panty set, and I’m not sorry now. Watching her striptease is one of my favorite parts of the day.
I lean against the vanity, enjoying the show while she gathers her hair in a messy bun before stepping into the shower. I’ve never enjoyed glass doors as much as I do now.
Showering with Emilia has proven far too dangerous. She’s a temptation that I find hard to resist. She always manages to stroke my cock instead of bathing, causing me to want to throw my own rules out the window, pin her to the wall, and fuck her until she screams.
For now, I watch when she showers. And she puts on a great show, trying to tempt me even with the glass separating us.
When she’s done, I dry her off. “Get dressed, jitterbug. I’ll join you in a minute.”
My own shower is quick, and I ignore my hard-on, wanting to join her in the bedroom as fast as I can.
As I enter the room, I stop dead. She’s wearing the dress, and it’s so fucking perfect. Also, she’s smiling broadly. “You really like white, don’t you?”
I grin. “It’s so pure.”
She rolls her eyes. “That’s me. The definition of purity.”
Keeping my gaze on her, I pull on khaki pants and a white button-up shirt that’s meant to be left casually untucked.
“You’re really going to let me wear this to dinner?”
I pull her into my arms. “Yes, baby. Like you’ve pointed out, everyone in this house is either related to you or the wife of your brothers or cousins. I won’t have to punch anyone for wandering eyes.”
Holding her at arm’s length, I drop my gaze to her chest. The top is a gathered, stretchy material that the saleslady called smocking.
The bra she has on under it is pretty while also being functional and padded.
It’s strapless, which works well with the spaghetti straps of the dress.
No one can see a hint of her bra, and no one will know if her nipples are hard.
The skirt is loose and flowy. It reaches almost to her knees. It’s pretty, youthful, and covers up all her assets. She’s wearing white sandals with it.
I love it, and I love her.
There’s no real reason for me to be nervous about proposing to Emilia. She has to know it’s coming any day now. But my stomach is in knots, nonetheless.
While she brushes through her hair, I tuck the ring box in my pocket.
Soon, she will be my fiancée. For a week.