Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
“No.”
We will see about that. I will do what I have to. Impregnating my wife is crucial but doing so against her will puts everything else at risk. Plus, I hate the very thought. I want to come home after a hard day of work to a wife that’s eager for my return, not plotting my demise.
The window between us and our driver rolls down. “Sir, we’ve arrived at the airport.”
“We will speak more of this later,” I say, as we cruise to a stop.
“We will not.”
We’re about to exit the vehicle. My men wait for us and will attend us on our journey home, and when we arrive more of my men will greet us. She will not speak to me this way.
I reach for her jaw and grasp it in my hand, noting the way her eyes widen when I yank her gaze to mine. “That’s enough,” I tell her. “No more defiance from you. No more backtalk. If you speak out of turn again, I’ll remove your privilege of speaking.”
Her eyes are molten embers. I can feel her jaw clench as she glares at me.
“Fine.”
I shake my head, and she growls a little. I hold her more firmly.
“Yes, sir,” she manages through clenched teeth.
“Good girl,” I tell her with sarcasm. She’s not a good girl at all but a very, very naughty one.
The door to our vehicle opens and our bodyguards and escorts wait outside. I put my arm out for her to take, which she does without comment. I lead her to the where our private plane waits, the entryway by the gate surrounded by my men, armed.
“That’s the plane we’re taking?” she says when we arrive. The plane stands right outside this window, right near the loading dock.
“It is,” I tell her. “Private, and the swiftest in our fleet.”
“Excellent.”
The woman needs a good, hard spanking over my lap then a good, hard fucking to tame her. To start, anyway. It’s a shame we won’t have room or privacy enough on the way home, though I’ll be sure we do after we arrive.
“Are you a nervous flier?”
“I haven’t flown enough to say,” she explains. “Though my last trip I was nervous before I got on, so yeah, I probably am.”
What the hell did they do to her before they brought her to me? Still, I know she was afraid of coming at all. Now it looks like my wife is nervous.
We board, and I have her sit right beside me. This is a first-class flight, only two and a half hours long, so there’s plenty of room for both of us, as well as private TV’s, music, and in-flight food and drink. I’m curious what she’ll choose as entertainment. I want to know everything about her.
“Do you need something to help you for the flight?”
She shakes her head, but she’s already white knuckling the seat.
The attendant brings us a menu. I order Caroline a glass of champagne and orange juice.
“What if I don’t want that?” she says, her lips pulled into an almost-pout.
I shrug. “You could fight me if you’d like. But it’ll help you relax for the flight. And if I were you, I’d save my fight for something bigger. A little drink can help loosen you up.”
The pout loosens a little. When the drinks arrive, I pour the champagne and orange juice in one glass for me and another for her.
“Cheers. To our honeymoon.”
“Cheers,” she says, clinking the glass with chagrin and a sigh. She says nothing about our honeymoon. We both know we aren’t the traditional couple, and we won’t follow the usual methods or customs.
She may not like her circumstances or me, and I’ve already accepted that. But given what she’s come from, I hope I can offer her something at least a little better.
I have two more days to consummate this marriage.
When she finishes her drink, I pour her a second.
“Drink.” Wordlessly, she holds my eyes and obeys. “This is delicious,” she says. “Do you drink often?”
I shrug. Social drinking is a way of life for me and my brothers, though I hold my liquor well. “My father was a mean drunk and I vowed I would never follow in those footsteps. You?”
“I never drink,” she says, while she upends her glass and polishes off her second. “I’m too much of a control freak.” She finishes her drink and places it on the tray in front of her, then leans and head back and closes her eyes. “But for now, I’d like to rest.”
I wait until she falls asleep, her head tipped to the side. She’s never had alcohol. She was mistreated at the hands of her brother, and her brother’s friend.
What does she secretly long for? Fantasize about? What is it that her heart longs for?
I make it my mission to find out.