Chapter 3

As Nate storms out of the room, Michaela wishes she felt hate or disgust or anger or even love and admiration. Anything but what she felt right now. Hot. Bothered. Thirsty. Wet.

She wanted to taste him, touch him, feel his muscles flex beneath her palm. When he had turned his back to her, she wanted to grab those round fleshy buttocks. Uh! What an embarrassment she was. Giving away so easily to his charm. Forgetting the way he had treated her; like some trash that needed disposal.

She sits on the edge of bed, unbuttoning her blouse, taking in the view of room. It is smaller than the one she has at home, the floor is marble but she prefers wood and it is way too dark and gloomy for her liking.

After a hot bath she makes her way to the kitchen. She has had her fill at the wedding party but all the tension in the air is making her thirsty. It's half past the midnight by the time she falls asleep.

She wakes up at dawn. The silence outside is stretching like a trampoline. She has never been up at this part of the day. Distorted from the sleep, she sits up for a while. She realizes that the constant knocking at the door is the culprit for her inconvenience.

“Come on Barbie. Wake up.”

“What? What time is it?”

“Get up and open the door. Maybe then I'll tell you.”

“I don’t want to.”

“It’s not up for discussion. We need to leave.”

She lets him in.

“One hell of a sleepy head aren't you?”

He says staring at her chest. She doesn’t wear a bra at night and so when the forever bounded titties find freedom they choose to do what they shouldn't have at a moment like this. They decided to toughen up. She covers them by crossing her hands over her chest.

“Look up and listen to me very carefully. I am not going anywhere. You are going to get out of this room and let me sleep and not bother me again.”

“You have fifteen minutes to get ready or I'll go without you. And you can continue to live in this penthouse while I enjoy my solitude in my mansion.”

With that he walks away.

“Give me thirty.” She shouts behind him.

“ Fifteen “

“ I hate you.”

“Same. “

She quickly takes a bath, puts on a pretty pink smocked summer dress, rushes through her makeup routine and puts on the Tiffany’s neck piece and bracelet, and pretty champagne heels. She takes a peak at the mirror whispering to her reflection..

“He doesn’t even deserve this.”

And hurries downstairs.

He is standing over the kitchen counter making scrambled eggs with toasts.

“I don't like scrambled eggs. Make me an omelette.”

And to her suprise he makes the her one.

“You don't hate me today I guess.”

“Your Princess days are going to be over the minute we leave this place. I got to feed you well for the upcoming adventure. Also we have a long journey ahead.”

She hardly gets what he's saying. And she isn't even interested. Because he looks like a typical husband cooking for his wife and taking care of her. Only it’s not the food that she's hungry for right now. It's him. He looks like the king of masculinity with the veins bursting out of his arms. She notices he has got rid of his beard and she can recognize the smell of fresh after shave. Shaving makes him look younger and even more desirable.

“Michael?”

He drags her out of the day dream.

“Sorry. What?”

“ I said eat.”

“Oh! Right.”

He comes and sits beside her on the table. Digging into his food with full gusto and such sincerity that he takes no notice of his knee that slightly touches Michaela’s thigh. As the movement continues Michaela feels a tingling between her legs.

She tries to distance herself from him but in turn causes the glass of water to fall right into the lap of her husband.

Great.

Awesome.

Just what she needed.

Before she even realises what she's doing, she picks up the table napkin and begins wiping Nate's shirt and pants. Rubbing his thigh with swift motions she looks into his eyes and for the first time speaks the words she never must have spoken before.

“I'm sorry. That was a mistake. I'm so sorry. I'll dry them off for you. Trust me. It was totally unintentional. I'm so fucking sorry.”

He stares deep into her eyes. Jaws clenched. Muscles tightened.

And slowly the realization dawn's at her.

For the past ten seconds while begging for pardon from this man she has been rubbing the napkin on his crotch. She can feel the bulge growing underneath the napkin and the heat coming out of it.

Her eyes widen.

“I'm sorry.”

“Move.”

He rushes off to god knows where while Michaela continues to curse herself.

A tiny laugh escapes her lips. Then it grows and then it becomes hysterical.

“ You stupid little bitch. You had to rub it hard didn't you. As if you could really dry the water off with a napkin. You are so dumb. So very dumb.”

The laugh evaporates like thin air when she stares at her reflection in the kitchen mirror.

“You better be careful bitch, you might be the next thing to end up on his plate.”

He comes back after what feels like an hour. Calm as if the tsunami just went past him. She tries another feeble attempt to apologize but he cuts her of “Don't mention it ever again. Nothing happened. Do you understand? Nothing ever happened.”

“But...”

“Shh...”

“I just....”

“I said no more talking about it.”

“ Just hear me out.”

“ No means no. If you continue to talk about it I might have to make you pay for your misconduct and I can guarantee it to you, that you won't enjoy it.”

“Okay.”

“Let’s leave. Andrew must be waiting for us.”