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Seventy
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2024-10-29 19:42:56The bed is empty when I wake, panic grips me, I clutch the sheets hard enough to break a nail and my fingers scream in protest. Is he gone? My heart slows to a torturous beat and my hand stretches to touch Brandon's side of the bed. It is still warm. I close my eyes and release my breath. He is here. He didn't leave me again. But what if he has?
Streaks of sunlight filter into the room from the cracks in the curtain, casting a soft glow on the floor. I sit up slowly, the duvet rolls to my waist and a hand goes over my mouth to stifle my yawn. My eyes scan the room for him, hoping for his return or any sign he is still at home. Is he mad at me for last night stunt? He can’t be. I should be the one upset.
Shyness creeps up on me when I notice the full state of my undress, I pick my gown that had been folded at the foot of the bed. Embarrassment rattles my insides at the sight of my underwear which falls out of the pile, I don't put them
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Those words, spoken barely above a whisper sends searing heat straight to my core. I choke on an appropriate reply, offering him my first genuine smile since I stepped into his office. If he keeps saying the right things, I will wipe his name off my black book.Unknotting the gown with unsteady hands, he attempts to help but my glare keeps his arms glued to his sides. I need to capture his expression when he sees me. From the slight creasing of his eyebrows down to the dilation of his pupils. The lust, raw desire clouding his amber eyes. I want to see everything, to bask in the emotions I can evoke.Finally getting on track, I gulp when the knot comes undone, hold the ends of the jacket loosely between my fingers. Brandon’s confusion at my hesitation is almost comical, I might have laughed but I am too focused on getting this right, calming my racing heart.I count to ten under my breath, maintaining his gaze. Swallo
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The gazebo is deathly quiet and the tension promises to suffocate us. Everything is going well, if you count the curt greetings from Brandon's snobbish parents. Queen Elizabeth doesn't hold a candle to Brandon's mother with her prim and proper manners, wrinkles and white hair cropped short. All she needs is a crown and I'll genuflect before her.Brandon's dad is an older beardless version of him with thinning hair. He is so quiet, the kind of quiet that allows his haughty wife freedom to speak to people as she pleases. A minute after exchanging greetings and I can already tell it was a bad idea to invite them.Seated beside Brandon, muscles tight and frustrated at my lack of release, I drum my fingers on my legs hidden under the table. He didn't have to punish me this way. I am pregnant, he shouldn’t leave me horny. One look at him shows that's the least of his worries.He is as tensed as I am, maybe even more and a wave of gu
