Dating : You’re mine, wife

ALPHA MALE/ EROTICA/ ROMANCE

I break several traffic laws as I race back home. A few cars honk at me, but I don’t give a shit. If a cop tried to stop me, I think I would slam my fist into his face. And if he tried to haul my ass to jail, I might actually strangle him. No one is going to keep me from seeing my wife, who is going to remain my wife, whether she likes it or not.

My knuckles turn white as my grip tightens on the steering wheel. Today, she had some guy serve me divorce papers. Fucking divorce papers. I had to tell myself to not kill the messenger. Though I was supposed to go to a meeting with some people on the board, I ran out of the building and jumped into my car. If they have a problem with me missing the meeting, they can go to hell. I’m the CEO, and I can do whatever pleases me.

After running 3 more red lights, I’m finally at the mansion. Gritting my teeth, I march into the house and up the stairs. If my wife has already left, I’m going to lose my shit. But if she’s gone, I’m going to find her, no matter how much money or manpower it takes.

When I find Tina throwing clothes into a suitcase, I feel like I’ve been kicked in the balls. She really wants to leave me. I shake my head. I won’t let her go. If that makes me sound like a tyrannical son of a bitch, so be it. I can’t let her leave.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I hiss.

At the sound of my voice, she jumps. “Foster,” she whispers. “Um…”

Glaring at her, I yank her into my arms and hold the back of her head. In spite of my anger, my cock hardens. It can’t help itself around Tina, who’s the most beautiful person in the world to me with her long shiny black hair, big brown eyes, and plump red lips. Even now, I want to kiss her and rip off her clothes. “I’ll die before I sign those divorce papers, so you can stop packing, dear wife,” I say.

She glowers at me. “You can’t keep me here against my will.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“Asshole.” She hits my chest, but honestly, it feels like a peck from an adorable little hummingbird. She winces, rubbing her hand.

I frown. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she mumbles. Then she says, “God, it’s so annoying how you’re so strong and muscular. Punching you hurts me more than it hurts you.”

“So don’t punch me again. If you do, I might have to strip and spank you.”

She continues glowering at me, but there’s pink in her cheeks. She knows my words aren’t an idle threat. Before we were married, she would sometimes piss me off by flirting with some douche-bag. After I would bite the douche-bag’s head off, I would tear off her clothes, put her over my knee, and spank her until she was begging for an orgasm.

“Though I might strip and spank you anyway because you served me divorce papers,” I say.

“Foster — ”

“The next words out of your mouth better be ‘I don’t know what came over me. Of course I love you and want to be your wife until the end of time.’”

“God, you’re a dick.”

“You knew that when you said yes to marrying me.”

“Like you would’ve let me say no.”

She’s right. As insane as it makes me sound, I would’ve done something drastic like knock her up to make her marry me. Now I’m tempted to put a baby in her to make her stay.

“God, you’re thinking of knocking me up, aren’t you?” she asks.

Sometimes, I think she can read my mind. “No,” I lie.

She mutters, “I should put my birth control pills in a safe.” Then she says, “Even if you do knock me up, you know I can be a single mom.”

My heart twists painfully. “Why do you want a divorce? Do you not love me anymore?” What have I done wrong? I may be a bit of an asshole, but I’m a devoted and faithful husband. Maybe I’ve been spending a little too much time at the office? But Tina would’ve said something if she was feeling lonely; she wouldn’t have jumped straight to serving me divorce papers. And she knows I would drop everything if she needed something, anything. Hell, I’m missing a board meeting right now to ensure she stays with me.

“I don’t love you anymore,” she whispers.

Her words nearly bring me to my knees until I notice that she’s not looking me in the eye. “Try lifting your head and telling me that,” I say.

When she doesn’t lift her head, I want to collapse in relief. So she still loves me. But then why the hell is she asking for a divorce?

“Tell me what’s going on,” I say. Is she in trouble? I wonder if her parents are asking for money again. I grind my teeth. Tina’s parents — if you could call them parents — are trailer park trash. I have nothing against people who come from a trailer park; after all, I married Tina, who was born and raised in one. But her parents are lazy, good-for-nothing parasites. They only properly fed her sporadically, when they bothered to remember they had brought a child into the world; as a kid, she often dug through rich people’s trash for scraps of food. When I made Tina mine, I promised her that she would never go hungry again, that she would never want for anything. “Is it your parents?”

From her silence, I know it’s them. “If they want money, I can write them a check. You don’t have to divorce me.” I loathe them, but I will give them money if that will make her stay.

“Don’t give them money,” she says in a hard voice. She almost loathes her mom and dad as much as I do.

“Then don’t leave me.” I kiss her, and she can’t help kissing me back. I cup her breast, feeling her hard nipple. She moans into my mouth, and it tastes so fucking sweet. “Do you want to come, wife?” I slide my hand into her panties. Instantly, her nectar coats my fingers. Oh, she most definitely wants to come.

She gasps as I rub her clit. “Foster, you can’t seduce me into calling off the divorce.”

“I’m not letting you go,” I hiss, sliding a finger into her sex. Her pussy tightens around my finger. One of the best sensations in the world, second only to her pussy tightening around my cock. “Even if that means locking you away in a goddamn ivory tower.”

“Crazy asshole.”

“This crazy asshole is your husband and is going to stay your husband till death do us part.” I lay her down on our California king bed, then quickly deprive her of all her clothes. I think I rip her shirt in the process. Too damn bad. I’ll take her shopping tomorrow.

“Good thing you’re rich and you can afford to replace clothes all of the time,” she grumbles.

I almost come in my pants at the sight of her naked tits and pussy. Although we had sex three times last night and once this morning, I can never get enough of her. If I had it my way, I would retire early and spend every minute making love to her. But my dear wife doesn’t quite have my stamina.

Satisfaction fills me when she licks her lips as I take off my clothes. I’m a cocky son of a bitch, so I know I’m good-looking. Tina thinks I look like a Hemsworth brother, “only better” (her words, not mine, I swear).

She traces the lines on my six-pack. “I swear to God, sometimes, you make me feel like a hideous swamp creature,” she says.

“Are you fishing for compliments?” I tease. “Fine, I’ll take the bait. You’re fucking gorgeous, Tina. Actually, you’re the most fucking gorgeous woman in the world.”

She flushes with pleasure as I kiss her blushing cheeks, then her blushing breasts.

“Foster,” she groans.

I put my head between her thighs. A cry flies out of her throat as I lick her little pearl. Christ, she’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted. Better than the finest French pastries.

When I lift my head, a cute whimper escapes her lips. A wicked grin comes on to my face. I know my sweet wife is desperate to come, but I’m not going to give her an orgasm just yet.

“I’ve stripped you,” I whisper. “Now it’s time to spank you.”

She squeaks when I flip her onto her stomach. I caress her ass. Then I slap her butt. She moans, caught between pain and pleasure. “That’s for serving me with divorce papers.” I spank her again, causing her to clutch a pillow tightly. “That’s for trying to tell me you don’t love me anymore.” I swat her ass a third time, my dick threatening to explode when her flesh turns a little red. “And that’s for driving me crazy.” Deciding that I’ve punished her enough, I pull her onto my lap and slide my cock into her cunt. Screams of pleasure jump out of her as I shove my erection deep into her wet heat.

“I love you,” I breathe, wrapping my arms around her.

“I love you too.” Normally, contentment would flow through my body at those words, but her voice sounds a little melancholy, like she loves me, but she also knows that it can’t last. What is wrong, and why won’t she just tell me and let me fix it? I want to demand her to confide in me. But first, I have to make her come and remind her that I am the only man who can bring her to mind-blowing ecstasy. I thrust inside her, and she clutches my shoulders. Her nails are definitely going to leave some marks.

As she gasps, I feel her come onto my cock. I soon follow her, filling her pussy with my cum. Insanely, I consider finding her birth control pills and hiding them.

“Are you thinking of flushing my birth control pills down the toilet?” she asks.

“No.” Technically not a lie. Though flushing them down the toilet is a good idea.

“Don’t mess with my birth control.”

“Promise to not leave me then.”

Again, that mysterious melancholy strikes her face.

I stroke her cheek. “What’s wrong? Is it my parents?” I love my parents, but they need surgery to remove the permanent stick up their asses. All my life, they expected me to marry some pretty WASP socialite, so when I told them I was going to marry Tina Wong, a Chinese-American girl who grew up in a trailer park, they were aghast and went so far as to try to pay her to leave me. Luckily, Tina told me instead of accepting the money. When I confronted my parents, they attempted to justify their actions by saying she wasn’t good enough for me. That pissed me off; and I snapped at them, telling them that she’s more than good enough for me and in fact the only woman for me. Eventually, they accepted Tina, albeit reluctantly, but they accepted her. Or so I thought. Could they be conspiring with her parents to break us up? My fingers form into a fist. I’ve never been tempted to commit patricide or matricide, but I will certainly be tempted if my parents are trying to get my wife to divorce me.

When she opens her mouth, then closes it, I know her sudden urge to end our marriage has something to do with our parents.

“I’m going to kill them,” I snarl.

“You can’t kill your parents!” she exclaims.

“I will if they’re trying to take you away from me.”

She exhales. “I think it’s for the best if we get divorced.”

I seize her wrists. “What bullshit did they fill your head with? It’s for the best if we stay married for the rest of our fucking lives.” Then I ask in a pained voice, “Are you unhappy?” It’s possible that she can still love me and be miserable at the same time. Unfortunately, love and sadness aren’t two mutually exclusive concepts.

“You don’t make me unhappy.”

The corners of my mouth turn down. “But something else is making you unhappy?”

“Just sign the divorce papers. Trust me. And I know we didn’t get a prenup, but I promise I won’t ask for — ”

“For Christ’s sake, you think I care about the money? I’d give you my entire fortune right now if you promise to not leave me.”

“Foster — ”

“The next words coming out of that pretty little mouth better be ‘I have come to my senses, dear husband, and I shall ask for a divorce no more.’”

“You’re so stubborn.”

“You haven’t seen stubborn yet.” My fingers twitch with the desire to tie her to the bed; I settle for wrapping my arms around her and putting my hand on the small of her back.

“Shouldn’t you be at work?”

“I’m exactly where I need to be.” I kiss her shoulder, then sink my teeth into her skin, marking her with a love bite.

“You’re the CEO. You shouldn’t be playing hooky. Doesn’t that set a bad example for your employees?”

“When you’re the boss, you have the privilege of being able to tell people, ‘Do as I say, not as I do.’” I squeeze her breast. “Now are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

She avoids the question and asks, “Are you hungry? I can make lunch.”

“Don’t change the subject.”

“I can make your favorite, chicken paprikash.”

At the mention of chicken paprikash, my stomach growls. On our first date, we went to this Hungarian restaurant and had this amazing chicken paprikash. Sadly, the restaurant shuttered before we could dine there a second time. I thought I would never be able to taste that chicken paprikash again, but last year, Tina recreated it for Valentine’s Day. She said it took her several chickens and weeks to get the recipe right, but she told me it was worth it to see the smile on my face. I’m about to say hell yes to some chicken paprikash when she adds:

“I should make your favorite meals for our last day together.”

Fuck that shit. “No, we’re ordering in,” I growl, holding her hips. “You can make us chicken paprikash anytime because we’re going to stay married for the foreseeable future and after that.” I whisper into her ear, “And I want to continue making love to you, so I’m not going to let you get out of bed for a while.”

“God, you’re going to fuck me till I can’t stand anymore.”

I glare at her. “Our last night together will be on my fucking deathbed. You have my last name, Tina Hawthorne, and I don’t intend on ever letting you change it.” Then I claim the pretty red mouth that is mine and cup the wet little pussy that is mine. She moans, arching her back and demanding more. She wants me almost as much as I want her. I pinch her clit, causing her to dig her nails into my back.

“Foster,” she groans as I rub her cunt. Her juices practically drench my hand.

“Will any other man ever make you feel this good?” I breathe. Although it is merely hypothetical, the thought of her with another man threatens to make me homicidal and/or suicidal. If I ever caught her cheating on me, I wouldn’t hurt her because I could never hurt my wife (I might spank her though), but I would murder the other guy or beat him until he wished he were dead.

“No,” she says before screaming my name as I gently bite her breast.

“So don’t bother trying to leave me.” I slap her pussy, making her gasp.

“Please,” she whines when I tease her with another slap.

“Please what?” I ask, knowing perfectly well what my wife wants.

“Please make me come.”

“Tell me you belong to me then.”

“I belong to you.”

Satisfied for now, I sink my cock into her. She screams my name again, meeting my thrusts eagerly. Her sex strangles my erection, and it’s the best damn feeling in the world.

With a caveman-like grunt, I fill her up with my hot white seed. Christ, I wish she wasn’t on the pill, so I could put a baby in her. She said she would be fine with becoming a single mom, but I wouldn’t let her raise our kid on her own.

“Did you come?” I ask.

“Um, almost, but it’s okay,” she says.

There’s no way I’m going to leave my wife unsatisfied. So I place my head between her legs and begin cleaning my cum off her pussy with my tongue. She fills the room with her cries of pleasure as I lick every inch of her divine cunt. The combined taste of her nectar and my seed almost gives me another erection. After I suck on her nub, she comes into my mouth, her juices covering my tongue and going down my throat like delicious honey.

She catches her breath. “Is it possible to die from too many orgasms? If so, you’re definitely going to kill me.”

I know she’s joking, but the thought of her permanent absence squeezes my heart like a vise. I embrace her, the touch of her soft skin and the smell of her cherry blossom shampoo comforting me. Fuck, what would I do if she actually left me? I can’t let that happen; I won’t let that happen.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” she says.

Reluctantly, I let her leave my arms. When I begin following her, she whips around and says, “Are you seriously going to follow me into the bathroom? I know that people say a husband and wife are supposed to share everything with each other, but I’m not going to let you watch me take a leak. Some things are better left a mystery.”

“I have to make sure you don’t try to escape through the window.” I’m only half-kidding.

She rolls her eyes. “I’m not wearing any clothes. I’m not going to jump out the window.”

“Fine, but if you take longer than 5 minutes, I’m coming in there.”

“You’re a freaking nutjob.”

I can’t deny that; I am totally insane when it comes to her. After three minutes and 32 seconds pass, a little anxiety creeps into me. It takes every shred of my willpower to not barge into the bathroom. Finally, after four minutes and 45 seconds, she comes out. She gapes at me. “Did you start a timer on your phone?”

“I was checking my emails,” I lie.

“If you were an actor, you would get all of the Razzies,” she says. “You may look like a Hemsworth brother, but you certainly don’t have the acting talent of one.”

“But you find me more handsome than Liam and Chris and…” I squint, completely blanking out on the name of the third brother. “And the other one.”

“Though your huge ego doesn’t need any more stroking, yes, I do find you infinitely more handsome than Liam, Chris, and Luke.”

“Good,” I say. “What do you want for lunch?”

She wrings her hands. “Are you sure you don’t want me to make chicken paprikash?”

I scowl. “I don’t want a fucking farewell meal because you’re not saying farewell to me.”

She says in a soft voice, “If you knew the truth, you might think differently.”

Concern floods me. “What the hell did our parents say to you?”

Again, she dodges my question. “I’m in the mood for Italian.”

I want to launch a full-on interrogation, but at least she’s stopped talking about making a goodbye lunch. I pull up Postmates on my phone and order pasta carbonara, wedding soup, and cassata cake from our favorite Italian restaurant.

“Hmm, what should we do while we wait?” I ask. I caress her breast. “Should I leave hickeys on your tits?”

“You’re freaking insatiable,” she breathes.

I cup her sex. “Or should I eat out your pussy again?” She gasps. “Or should I take you from behind?” I stroke her forbidden ring, leaving her breathless. “Or should I do all of the above?”

My wife answers, “All of the above.”

I smile. “Good answer.”

***

45 minutes later, Tina is practically boneless in my arms. “How do you have so much energy?” she asks.

I massage her cunt, which must be a little sore from all of our activity. “You’re too damn desirable, wife,” I say.

The doorbell rings. It must be our food. “I’ll get it,” I say, putting on pants. But before I leave the room, I grab her panties and bind her wrists together with it.

“You’re tying me up?” she asks indignantly as I tie her ankles together with her bra.

“I have to make sure you don’t run away while I grab lunch.”

“Thanks to you, I can barely walk, let alone run away.”

“Still, better safe than sorry.” I kiss her frowning lips. “I’ll be right back.”

“Dick,” she mutters.

“You know you love me.”

As fast as humanly possible, I get the food from the delivery guy and race up the stairs. It’s incredibly unlikely that Tina got out of my makeshift bondage and left the mansion, but my pulse is only going to quit racing when I see her on our bed. At the sight of her, I relax and shoot her a grin. “Comfortable?” I ask as she wriggles against her restraints.

“Did you use some ridiculous sailor’s knot?”

“Maybe, maybe not.” I sit on the bed, then pull her onto my lap.

She shoots daggers at me. “Aren’t you going to untie me?”

“Hmm, let me think about it…no.”

“How am I supposed to eat then?”

“I’ll feed you.”

She mutters, “Patronizing jerk.”

“Is that any way to speak to your husband?”

She pointedly looks at her restraints. “Is this any way to treat your wife?”

“Yes, since you, my dear wife, keep insisting on leaving.” I open the soup, and satisfying tendrils of steam escape. I dip a spoon into the bowl, blow on the hot soup, then offer it to Tina. “Careful, it’s hot.”

“You’re really going to feed me as if I were a child?”

“Yes.”

“Why let a grown woman use her perfectly good hands?” she says under her breath. But because she can’t resist good wedding soup, she drinks it and licks the spoon clean.

“Such a good, obedient wife,” I tease.

“Oh, shut up.” But she can’t resist another spoonful of soup and continues to let me feed her.

Once we’re done with dinner, I cup her chin and ask, “Now, are you going to tell me why you’re trying to divorce me?”

She says in a quiet voice, “You’re going to hate me if I tell you the truth.”

“Tina, you’re an idiot if you think I could ever hate you.” She could literally cut my testicles off with a rusty knife, and I would still be madly in love with her.

She stares at her hands. “Our parents told me who my real dad is.”

Puzzlement fills me. “Your real dad?”

She exhales. “It turns out that Mom cheated on Dad 9 months before I was born. And she cheated on him with…” She swallows, struggling to get the words out. “She cheated on him with Victor Walker.”

Instinctively, the name causes anger to burn through my blood. Victor Walker is the bastard who ruined my best friend Chandler’s life. Victor not only stole Chandler’s company, but he also stole his wife Amanda, whom I never liked because I sensed that she was a gold-digger and she only proved me right when she left Chandler to be with an old bastard like Victor. Having lost everything, my best friend tried to kill himself. Thankfully, I caught him with the bottle of Valium before he could seriously harm himself.

After taking a deep breath, I say, “Okay and…?”

She stares at me like I’m being obtuse. “So my real father is Victor Walker.”

“Yeah, I got that. And what the hell does that have to do with you wanting to divorce me?”

“I’m the daughter of a man you hate!” she exclaims. “If you don’t hate me, don’t you at least look at me differently?”

I touch her cheek. “When I look at you, I see my wife. The wife I love and am completely obsessed with.”

“But Foster — ”

“Tina, I wouldn’t give a shit if half of your DNA belonged to fucking Hitler. It doesn’t change who you are, and it definitely doesn’t change the fact that I love you more than anything else in the goddamn universe. Did our parents threaten you by telling you that they would reveal the identity of your biological father to me if you didn’t leave me?”

She reddens. “Well, yeah.”

“They’re fucking idiots if they believe that anything could make me love you any less. And you’re also a moron if you ever believed that for a second and you would rather serve me fucking divorce papers than tell me the truth.”

“I’m sorry,” she says meekly.

“I forgive you because you’re my wife and I would forgive you for anything.” I kiss her neck. “But I am going to spank you later for not trusting me.”

“That’s fair.”

I grip the back of her head, making her look right into my eyes. “I love you, Tina, and that will never change. And I’m never going to let you get away from me, so I better not hear the d-word ever leaving your pretty red mouth again, okay?”

“Okay,” she breathes. “I love you too, Foster, and I’ll love you forever and always.”

Then for the ninth time today, I make love to my beloved wife.

Two years later

I rub my wife’s feet. The edges of my lips curve up as I stare at her round belly. She’s seven months pregnant with our first child, a daughter. Seven months ago, she told me she wanted to start having kids, so I immediately flushed her birth control pills down the toilet. Then I fucked her on our bed, the kitchen table, the couch, and my desk. A week later, she took a pregnancy test and saw the plus sign. A week after that, I put myself on leave from work and got my friend Chandler to run the company in my absence. I’m thinking of making my leave permanent because I love constantly being around my wife and taking care of her. God knows I’m more than rich enough to retire early.

Tina groans. “I feel like a whale.”

“You’re still beautiful to me.”

“You’re my husband. You have to say that.”

“Do you want me to show you how sincere I am?” I ask in a low voice. Dropping to my knees, I lift her dress, exposing her pink lace panties. I pull down her panties, then stroke her clitoris, eliciting a gasp from her.

“If I didn’t still find you beautiful, do you think I would want to feast on your pussy and slide my cock into your cunt 24/7?” I kiss her sex, making her moan.

“Well, how can I argue with logic like that?” she asks breathlessly.

Because I can never tire of telling her, I say, “I love you.”

And because she knows I can never tire of hearing the words, she says with a smile, “I love you too.”

(Disclosure: The featured image came from this photo gallery at MetArt. If you check out the free gallery and decide you want to purchase a membership to see more of their content, I will receive an affiliate fee. This does not affect the cost of the membership for you)

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