Page 21 of The Growly Outcast’s Promise

Greyson

It’s been a week since our big fight, if that’s what you can call it. We’ve settled into a routine. Papaya loves running around outside with me, which makes Bella so happy. But then she pretends to be cranky about having to brush all the grass and weeds out of the pup’s fur.

I kiss my wife good morning. I kiss my wife good night. We haven’t discussed sex again, nor has she mentioned an annulment.

Her grandmother has been sending certified letters, which is hilarious because mail up on Saddle Ridge doesn’t really work that way. Suffice it to say, her grandmother has filed a formal contestation against our marriage.

Annabelle seems unbothered by her grandmother’s theatrics. As for me, I’m just waiting for the day when I can tell her precisely what she can do with her contestation.

Earlier today, I brought all of the letters and paperwork to Blake, the attorney in town. We went to school together, and I figured he was the best option for seeing if that cantankerous old crone has any validity to her complaint. According to him, she does not. The fact that we’ve been living as a married couple for the better part of a week makes the annulment option less feasible.

I’m getting home later than I intended. I grabbed something to eat in town because I knew Bella had already had food. She had met Kelsie Blankenship—now Fox—a friend of hers from before she moved to Houston for a catch-up.

I take a shower, then step into my bedroom with a towel around my waist. I half expect to find Bella already asleep. Instead, she’s sprawled across our bed, completely naked, moaning as she positions some sort of device between her legs.

Instantly, my dick springs to life. From zero to steel pipe in point two seconds.

“Wife,” I say. “What exactly are you doing?”

“Ah, husband, you’re home,” she says, her voice breathy. Her free hand comes up to cup her breast. “As for what I’m doing, I thought that would be obvious. But I’ll explain. My husband won’t take care of my needs, so I’m having to take care of them myself.”

I walk closer to the bed. Fuck me, she’s gorgeous. All lush curves and pale skin.

She glances up at me, her face and chest flushed with her arousal. “Do you see something you like?”

I let my eyes rove over her entire body. The way her thick thighs are parted just so, giving her hand room to hold the toy. The lusty haze in her pretty hazel eyes. Her bigger than a handful tits with hard, pointing nipples. The softness of her belly, the gentle nip in at her waist and then the flair of her rounded hips.

She is my very own Feast of Venus.

“I see a lot of things I like.” I grip my erection through the towel.

She gives me a wicked smile, and there is nothing but hot challenge shining in her eyes. Oh, she wants to play dirty. Thinking she can break me. But I meant what I told her. There will be no ending to this marriage.

“Don’t move,” I tell her. Then I go back into my bathroom and pull out my own bag of tricks. There aren’t a whole lot of options for men when it comes to sex toys. But I have the best one. I grab the silicone, handheld pussy, and the bottle of lube. I walk back out and deliberately drop my towel as I pass by the bed.

She gasps and I smirk to myself as I sit on the chair across from the bed. I want her to get a nice view of what I’m doing.

While I lubricate the silicone sheath, I say. “Tell me about that toy you’re using.”

Her eyes are glued to my dick, and if I’m not mistaken, she just licked her lips. That’s right, wife, give me what I want, and I’ll give you what you want. All night long.

“It’s called the Clit Kiss 3000. It’s supposed to emulate oral sex.”

“Did they have two thousand and ninety-nine failed versions before that one?”

She gasps as she chuckles.

Then I slide the sheath down my dick. I can’t help the groan I release. It’s not the real thing. But watching her and her watching me is so fucking hot that right now I forget we’re playing a game.

“What are you doing?” she asks, her eyes never leaving the motion of my hands.

I spread my legs wider, lean back in the chair. “Same thing you are, wife. We’re entertaining each other, yes?”

“Yes,” she breathes.

“Does that feel good on your needy little clit?”

“Yes. So good.”