Rest

Zach...

My beautiful hillside home has two storeys, two garages, nine rooms, a library, a spa, and an indoor and outdoor pool. I'd like to live there with my lovely wife. I introduced her to Martha and her husband, Jack, who have been living with me for five years. When she saw the greenhouse, her eyes widened. Jack looked after it while Martha managed the mansion and her food. She looked thoughtfully at my collection of superbikes. She greeted everyone warmly.

My wife, Martha, and Jack get along great. To Martha's surprise, she did not intrude on her domain, the kitchen. She devoured every morsel of Martha's food. She complimented her as a daughter who would appreciate her mother. She even assisted Martha with various home tasks, much to Martha's chagrin.

We've been married for about a year. I enjoy waking up with her in the morning. I don't envision myself without her for the rest of my life. I advised Martha to let her assist her; she was bored, and I'm sure she had traumatic occurrences in her past because of her nightmares. Simple activities like planting, folding linens, and cleaning brought her joy. She carefully attended to my needs, such as organizing my schedule and preparing my clothes and other personal belongings. She is the ideal wife for me, except that she cannot cook, which still fascinates me.

She joined me as my wife for my public engagements. I'm extremely proud and protective of her; her beauty was rejuvenating. She wanted to do everything herself, including her makeup and clothes. I offered to employ professional assistance, but she declined, stating that she felt uncomfortable with anyone hovering over her. I was expecting her to introduce me to her friends, but it never happened. I was curious if she had friends or if she lived alone. My wife told me that, except for Liza from her pre-med school, she never established friends at school and that they became estranged as they pursued different courses.

Her clothes and accessories were all from the same brand. She stated that she was the owner. She founded the fashion firm at the age of fifteen to assist single moms and students with earning a living, but it quickly became famous as celebrities, models, and socialites patronized their designs. She also gave shares of stock to each of her staff. She frequently astounds me. What I really want to know about her is who Lawrence is. He called her a few times.It was also obvious that she avoided him. It can't be her lover because she was a virgin when I took her. She kept mostly within my house and never went outside longer. Her activities were monitored.

I was waiting for her in our living room for our gala night when I looked up and saw her at the top of the stairs. Damn! She's so gorgeous. She wore a basic black strapless ball gown with a thigh-high split that highlighted her cleavage. Her makeup was always natural, with the exception of lovely red lipstick on her full lips. Her perfect skin and natural make-up emphasized her naive appearance. Her hair was braided into a fishtail, making her look like a princess from a fairy tale.

I took her hand, and my chest swelled, "She's mine," I told myself. I kissed her on the cheek. "You look stunning, love," I said quietly. "We can just stay here and do something delightful," she suggested with a smile and a wink. "Let's go, princess. Before, I changed my mind, but after this," I added as I firmly pinned the platinum vine and leaf with the black diamond tulip into her braid. She kissed me and grinned. I wondered if she liked my gift.

We were inside the limo when she rubbed her hands between my thighs while leaning on my shoulder. "You look splendid, husband," she murmured, staring at me with those lovely eyes and brushing her hand through my long, straight blond hair. "Don't do that, princess; I'll take you here right now, and you'll attend the party with your messy hair and crumpled gown," I huskily replied. I laughed and lightly kissed her on the lips as she pouted.

Many people glanced at us as though we were a spectacle as we arrived at the event. Cynthia approached me and simply nodded to my wife. Cynthia attempted everything she could to tempt me, but I ignored her. One of my guiding beliefs is not to annoy my employees. But she was good at her job, and I praised her for it. She drew me closer to one of our business partners. I motioned for my wife to accompany me, but she motioned for me to leave.

I was speaking with them when I noticed my wife conversing with Haider Fern. They appeared to be acquainted. Fern kissed my wife's forehead and muttered something to her that made my blood boil. I'd never been so enraged before, but then she looked at me, waved, and smiled. Cynthia was speaking, but I didn't hear her. I excused myself and approached them scowling.

"Camwell" Fern greeted me. We both stared at each other in quiet for a few moments, then I nodded severely and murmured, "Fern." Fern broke the silence by saying, "I had better go; you take good care of one." He took her hand in his and kissed her temple suddenly. Her eyes followed Fern with a serious expression on their faces. My insides felt like being on a roller coaster. I felt like punching something. I don't want any other male to have contact with her.

"How did you know Fern?" I asked her on our way home. "He was my colleague, my senior," she replied. "Seniors kiss their juniors now," I uttered under my breath. "How did you know Two—I mean Haider? She asked me instead.

I'm curious as to why they chose numbers as epithets, but I chose to remain mute. I'll have my man look into Haider as well. I don't want her to think that I breached my pledge to her.

"We make up 1% of the world's population, princess, and we belong to 10% of that 1%, of course! I know him!" I glanced at her. "I don't like other men touching you, baby," I replied forcefully, my voice raspy, as I kissed her passionately. My hands moved through the high-thigh side slit in her thighs. I moved her thong to the side and stroked her sex with ease. When I slid my fingers inside her, she moaned.

"I want you inside me now," she said with urgency.

She fondled my jeans before slipping them down to my feet and straddling me. She impaled me with her skirt gathered to the side. When she felt my fullness inside her, she arched her back. Her breasts sprang as I pushed down her tight bodice. She arched her back even further to indicate that she wanted me to suck her breast. I sucked on one of her breasts while cupping the other and tweaking the nipple. We were dancing in a frenzy, and our breathing and gentle moans could be heard inside the car. I reached for her clitter and rubbed it.

"You are mine, baby; say it," I said, my voice husky. I came to a halt, waiting for her response. "Yes, I'm all yours!" she moaned, her breath short. "This," I pinched her nipples, "and this," I purposely thrust my shaft, "are all mine; remember that princess," I added as I rammed my member inside her. She screamed with pleasure. I can see her contented smile. I kissed her, helped her dress, and then combed her unruly hair with my hands. Jim opened the door, and when I unlocked it, she felt ashamed because she didn't even look at Jim. My eyes were drawn to her blush.

She assisted me with undressing as I assisted her with her dress. She quickly separated our clothing and placed it in the stackable laundry sorter. She was really well-organized and neat. I enjoy the feeling of having someone take intimate care of me.

We had a shower together, and she rubbed my entire body with the sponge. She enjoys shampooing and brushing my hair. I stroked her skin carefully with my bare hands while applying body wash. When I caressed her breasts with my left hand and her cunt with my right, her breath hitched.

Damn! I really wanted to fuck her again. I lifted one leg and drove hard into her. We kissed fervently as I pushed deeper and more aggressively into her. As I kissed her, I seized her moans; our tongues and lips were entwined. She was powerful and firm, and she had a lot of stamina. When we hit our height, we both screamed.

I toweled her off, hauled her to our room, shoved her into our wardrobe, and dressed her in purple lace and satin underwear. I dried her hair; she wanted to dry mine as well, but I gently put her to bed and kissed her forehead. She closed her eyes and said, "Sleep, my love."

I awoke when I heard my wife scream, "No, no, no, I'm sorry, Three." She screamed and agonized as if she was in excruciating pain. My chest tightened at the sight of her. I shook her and calmed her down. She closed her eyes again and placed her head in my arms. Her tears were brushed away. I massaged her back and kissed her hair while she hiccuped. "I'm her love; sleep, baby." I grimaced, my mind wandering to something—or rather, someone. Who exactly is Three?