Luke
I struggled to contain my amusement when she sighed for a third time. There were two days left before Christmas, and it was time to let loose and give her what she needed. The timing was perfect for a Christmas Day proposal. She wouldn’t suspect my lack of condoms or my pull-out game.
“Tough day?” I asked.
“Hm,” she hummed, turning to face me as we turned onto my street.
I raised her hand to my lips. Her blue eyes darkened, and those sweet pink lips parted. Her long auburn hair would be perfect to take hold of.
I first noticed her six weeks ago, and there was just something about her I was drawn to. She was genuine and sweet. A loving mother, and everything the Jezebel wasn’t. I observed her for several weeks before I approached her.
She’d gone from uncertain to the quietly confident woman she was now. It wasn’t her stunning looks or agile body, but an innocence within her that made me want to protect her from the ugliness of the world.
“There was a strange woman following me on the Tube. It was creepy.”
I frowned and didn’t dismiss the potential sighting of Morticia. She was a little unhappy adjusting to her divorce settlement.
“Describe her to me.”
“Tall, thin, pretty,” she said, pausing to concentrate.
“A redhead, but not too red. Her hair was actually really nice. A bob cut and very sleek. But she followed me all the way to the museum and just stood at the main entrance. She never tried to access the building, and she didn’t walk away either. She just stood there, staring at me.”
“Morticia,” I growled.
“Huh?”
“That was my ex-wife, Sadie,” I said, pulling out my phone. I could make her life extremely difficult if she didn’t desist.
Isabella leaned into me and I wrapped my arm around her. I’d given everything I could to Sadie, but she’d had little need for me as her husband. I was simply a financial means for her to live her life without me.
She didn’t believe me when I asked her for a divorce.
She thought I’d come back after I moved out of our marital home.
She’d ranted like a lunatic in court when the judge finalised the divorce.
Now that I was with a real woman, she was stalking Isabella. The premise should have pleased me, but it didn’t. Isabella was crucial to my future. From her sweetness to her ovulating egg. An egg that only had a 12-24 hour lifespan within a 4-5 day window for my sperm to reach it.
I’d even got tested. 200 million sperm per millilitre of semen.
This was excellent for my age. I shook the nurse’s hand.
Morticia never wanted children since she loved her Jezebel status too much.
Ruining her body for our child was never on the books for us.
She’d just tagged me along with false promises.
“Mr Newbury,”
“Hello Michael, I need you to keep a close eye on the Jezebel.”
“Of course.”
I hung up just as the driver came to open the door.
Nothing would ruin tonight.
? ? ?
She swirled her glass. The rich, deep red wine danced beneath her fingers. Her legs moved as she crossed them. Dark navy fabric slid up that smooth, creamy thigh. Like a sap, I followed the path to her dark red heels.
“How’s Amber’s studying coming along?” I murmured, dragging my eyes away from those lethal stilettos.
“She’s getting additional tuition for a few of her subjects, and she doesn’t seem to be overly stressed for the exams,” she said, before taking another sip of her wine.
“She’s a good girl. You must be proud.”
“I am,” she said, her eyes softening, a faint smile appearing. “At one point in my life, I thought I would have at least three children.”
Her smile slowly dissipated.
“It was too difficult to do everything on my own,” she said, before shaking her head. “Never mind that. You’ll join us on Christmas?”
“There is nowhere else I would rather be,” I said, placing my scotch on the table and sliding my hand beneath the hem of her dress.
The closer I moved, the more she leaned in, and I realised the reason her eyes seemed larger was the black liner around the stunning blue. Her eyelashes were thicker and longer.
I hissed when her hand moved over my crotch.
This time I didn’t stop her.
“Why don’t I show you my bedroom?”
“Dear god, yes!”
I’ve never moved so fast in my life. I grabbed her glass and tried to set it on the table, but it tipped over. The wine raced over the wood and began to drip onto my Persian rug.
Did I give a single fuck?
No, I did not, because I was dragging my womb—I mean my future wife—upstairs. My baby batter had best be on top form.