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foxintheferns · 10 months ago

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I'd love to see Jacob with a single mama. I'd love it if he imprinted on her while she's playing with her little one on the beach. She could be Charlie's niece who he helped move to Forks to give her a fresh start with the little one. I'm thinkin the kiddo is about 1-2, old enough to walk/play in the sand but still young. I can see Jacob being the best papa ever and the pack just LOVING on the kid <3 Please and thank you! <3

Thank you so much for your patience with this one! Because I made you wait so long, I made it a long one <3. Loved writing such sweet lil fluffy stuff. Please enjoy :)

A/N: AU where Jacob and Bella aren’t toxic & weirdly obsessed with each other, and he has his own life and experiences outside of her! Period.

HOME

You sat on the sand with Lydia between your legs, her wispy, silky auburn hair blowing between your fingers with each soft gust of the salty breeze. You faced the ocean, La Push beach surrounding you in all of its striking glory.

Lydia babbled as she played with the sand, her back to you and her arms and legs quite literally covered in the granules. It would be her second birthday in two months, and you couldn’t understand where the time had gone. She grew so quickly, her chunky little arms and legs getting longer by the day, and you wished desperately that you could pause time.

Your ex boyfriend Noah, Lydia’s father, hadn’t wanted much to do with the raising of his child.

You looked down at the side of her sweet face, the buttery soft skin of her cheek glowing with the orange light of the afternoon. It was despicable that anyone could not want to love this tiny human, you thought, that anyone would even consider leaving her by choice. But that was exactly what Noah had done. His booze and his gambling was far too important to him to bother with the raising of a small child.

It made you angry; you felt a relentless and almost violently intense need to protect her. From everything ugly and awful and false in this world, even if that meant her own father. He had never treated you right, always gone for nights at a time doing who knows what with God knows who. The pregnancy had been an accident, but his reaction was not what you’d expected. He’d seemed to be on-board at first, but was never there for you during your difficult pregnancy. You thought back to how your muscles had ached as you were on all fours scrubbing the bathroom floor that one Saturday night, seven months pregnant and inconceivably exhausted. He had come home after being gone for two days, reeking of liquor and barely having time to slur out his angry question of what you were planning on making for dinner before he’d passed out on the living room couch.

You had been expecting Lydia’s birth to snap him back to reality, to throw things into perspective for him. But the man you had practically grown up with, together since 18, had missed her birth.

“Got caught up at work,” had been his excuse when he showed up at the hospital the next morning. Even the labor and delivery nurse had thrown him a glare.

When Lydia was 3 months old, you were forced to go part-time at the job you’d loved, the one that could actually lead somewhere. Without Noah’s help, childcare was next to impossible. Your neighbor, Jess, a stay at home mom of three, was kind enough to babysit Lydia with her own children for a few days out of the week, but you felt awful not being able to pay her much, if anything, most weeks.

After over a year of trying, of desperately hoping and yearning for the man you had once loved to be a father to your sweet girl, you’d finally thrown in the towel. Noah had made it clear that he had no interest in being a dad, and in one of his more blacked-out stupors, had even remarked that if the two of you hadn’t gotten pregnant, things would’ve been easier. Better.

Noah had been gone 11 days, his longest absence yet.

You’d packed your minimal belongings, gathering Lydia’s too and putting them into her tiny suitcase with strawberries on it.

Your mom had passed when you were 16, and your dad was very much like Noah. Oh, how patterns repeat themselves. You didn’t have much of a support system to fall back on when shit hit the fan.

The one person you knew would answer if you called was your Mom’s brother, Charlie.

“(Y/N)?,” his gruff, tired voice had come through the phone that early Tuesday morning. You knew it was probably only 4am in Forks, where he was, but he’d still answered the phone.

“Uncle Charlie…,” you’d whimpered shakily, “I-….”

You didn’t even know where to begin. Uncle Charlie had always been so good to you, checking in and asking how Lydia was frequently. He’d been one of the few people you’d called to share the exciting news of your pregnancy with, and had been ecstatic, urging that you come visit him and your cousin Bella as soon as you could.

“What’s goin’ on? You okay?”, His voice had become suddenly alarmed, and you’d heard the shuffling in the background of him getting up and out of his bed.

Leaving with Lydia was something you’d been wanting to do for a while, but you didn’t think you could actually follow through with it. Saying it out loud felt impossible.

“I need your help,” you’d whispered, your voice low and on the verge of breaking.

That was two weeks ago now.

You sat on the soft sand with Lydia, her tiny fingers gripping your leg for support as she pulled herself up, and you thought back to the fear you’d felt that day. Charlie had immediately paid for a plane ticket for you and Lydia to fly up to Port Angeles. He didn’t waste a moment in inviting you to come stay with him. He’d been clearly enraged, barely hiding his distaste for Noah’s behaviors once you’d let the floodgates open and told him everything you’d been hiding for months.

“Jesus, (y/n). I thought you guys were doing good…I thought he was different, honey. I’m so sorry, kid,” Charlie had spoken into the phone after the words pouring from your mouth had finally come to a halt once you’d gotten him caught up on the current status of your relationship with your baby’s father. You hadn’t realized it, but you’d been hiding it from practically everyone. Your cousin Bella texted you often, and she knew some of the details of how absent Noah had become, but even she didn’t know the extent of it. You were a single mother, from the moment Lydia was conceived, you’d accepted that. Noah was never a dad to her.

“Mama! San!” Lydia’s tiny voice shrieked out as she grabbed a fistful of sand and threw it in front of her, some of it spraying in the breeze and landing across your chest and arms. She tentatively waited for your reaction. Her eyes scanned your face, her pink cheeks pulled into an ecstatic smile. You laughed, shaking your head, and wiped the rough granules off of your skin as you nodded at her.

“Yes, sand!” You picked up a handful of it, holding it out to show her and letting it spill through your fingers. She shrieked again, excited by your intentional dropping of the sand, and jumped several times, her little legs barely able to lift her half an inch off the ground.

You’d been down at the beach in La Push almost every day now. You’d gotten settled in to the extra bedroom at the Swan’s house, and you couldn’t help but feel like a burden, so you went out with Lydia often. Charlie and Bella had insisted, several times, that they were grateful to have the two of you. That they didn’t feel burdened by your presence. A toddler definitely wasn’t the quietest or most polite house guest, but Lydia was truly the best thing you’d ever done, and you prided yourself that you’d managed to raise such a good tiny human all on your own.

She was kind, and gentle. She loved animals, she loved making new friends. She watched the world around her with curious and eager eyes, anxious to explore and see and feel. She laughed and laughed and laughed; she was the giggliest baby you’d ever seen.

Bella offered to watch her whenever you needed a break, and you hadn’t asked for one yet. She was practically begging to babysit Lydia at this point, which had surprised even her; she wasn’t much of a kid person.

You didn’t want a break. You were soaking up this time with your little one as much as you could. You felt free, for the first time in a long time.

The beach felt like home now, and Lydia seemed to think so too. Every time you walked with her down the dirt path toward the beach, she would screech and try her best to run towards the glistening ocean. You’d been at the beach now for an hour or two, and you reached into your bag to pull out more baby sunscreen for her.

“Lyd, come ‘ere babe.” You reached out, gently pulling her to you, and her eyes landed on the pink bottle of sunscreen. She knew the drill at this point, and gingerly leaned against you as you rubbed the cream across her tiny little shoulders and arms. She giggled and smiled as the cold sunscreen landed on her skin.

“Eeee!” She cried, slapping her small hands against your leg as she pulled her face away in protest to you trying to spread the sunscreen across her cheeks. She still stood in place though, squeezing her eyes shut and pouting as you rubbed it in.

“Thank you, baby. Such a good girl,” you cooed as you snapped the lid of the sunscreen closed and placed a kiss on the tip of her little nose. You continued to pepper her face with smooches until she was a screeching, giggling mess on the sand, her arms and legs flailing every which way. You tickled her, both of you laughing loud enough for the sound to travel over the noise of the rolling waves hitting the beach.

After the tickle attack came to an end, you grabbed some strawberries and blueberries from your bag, pulling open the Tupperware container and holding it out to Lydia. Her eyes lit up (strawberries are her all time fave) and she eagerly grabbed at the berries with both hands. After several minutes of snacking, her mouth and face was stained pink and red, and her fingers were sticky. The sand was still warm, although the breeze was starting to cool off a bit.

“Let’s walk, yeah Lyddi?,” you asked, getting up from your large towel and brushing the sand off of your legs. She bounced around beside the towel, falling a few times onto the soft sand as she lost her balance. You held your hand out and smiled down at her, waiting for her to meet your eyes. She reached out without hesitation, allowing you to envelope her tiny hand in yours, and let you lead her down towards the water.

You walked across the gentle waves, only going far enough so that the incoming swells flowed across your feet and ankles. With each wave hitting the shore, Lydia giggled and gripped your hand firmly, picking her feet up as quickly as she could to run from the water as it approached, only to run back towards it when it receded. You bent down, releasing her hand to skim the ocean water, wetting your fingers to clean the berry juice from her face.

As you were wiping your thumb across the soft skin of her chin, you saw her eyes flicker to something behind you, down the beach. Her gaze was intent and focused, and you glanced over your shoulder to see what managed to catch her constantly fleeting attention. A group of four tall men coming down the beach, kicking a soccer ball amongst their group. Their laughter was just reaching your ears now, and they were coming close enough that you were able to make out their faces.

They were quite large, and all but one of them were shirtless. The image rang a bell: they looked like they could be some of the Quileute boys you’d heard Bella mention were her close friends. You knew the beach was on the local Quileute reservation, but it’d been relatively empty in the days you and Lydia had been spending there, and you’d only seen random tourists walking along the beach occasionally. Bella had complained jokingly to you that these friends of hers were annoyingly always shirtless, impossibly large and tall, and that her boyfriend Edward wasn’t the biggest fan of them.

You smiled when one of them looked down the beach towards you and Lydia, and he seemed to return a polite smile at first, but his face melted into an odd expression when your eyes met. It was an indecipherable look. A look you didn’t understand.

He stopped walking, his body halting while his friends continued to move down the beach ahead of him. For a moment, it almost seemed like he was about to wave or come towards you, as if he recognized you like an old friend. The peculiar expression lingered for a moment before he pulled his eyes away quickly, and you saw his mouth moving as he seemed to speak swiftly to the men around him. His friends stopped walking as well, all turning to face him with bewildered expressions. The eye contact between you had been longer than a typical interaction with a stranger, but you felt oddly unalarmed. You were struck with an odd sensation that felt like you recognized him too.

He was the tallest of the group, his shoulders wide & strong. His frame was long and lean, and he happened to be the only one wearing a shirt, though it was a black cut off tank that didn’t cover much of his chiseled musculature underneath. You brushed the encounter off as random and probably explainable, trying to ignore the odd and unfamiliar sensation that prickled across your entire body like electricity.

You turned back to Lydia, but her curious eyes were still locked on the group behind you, wonder filling her face. A smile crept onto your lips as you watched her blink, her long lashes framing her wide eyes. She was beautiful. She was always so curious, so interested. Strangers made her nervous, like any two year old, though, which is why you were utterly bewildered when she broke away from your grasp and started toddling down the shore towards the group of men. You shot up from your lowered position, chasing after her.

“Lydia!” you called, your feet picking up pace.

It was amazing just how fast a two year old could be when they suddenly decided they had a destination in mind. You caught her under the armpit just as she almost fell across the wet sand in her run, and your knees hit the soft sand as you almost fell yourself. You panted, holding onto her and unable to stifle back a laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation.

“What the heck! Lyd-,” you started, looking up from where you grasped her. She was frozen, staring up at something.

She’d managed to close the distance between the two of you and the men, quickly enough that the soccer ball they’d been passing around as they came down the beach was only feet away now. You followed her gaze, and saw two large hands come down to swiftly pick up the ball. Your eyes moved up more still, until they landed on the face of the man you’d just locked eyes with moments before.

His gentle brown eyes were wide, his jaw slack and his expression yet again incomprehensible. You still had a smile on your face, and his eyes flicked down to your grin, the corners of his own mouth lifting up slightly. He gestured toward you with the arm that held the soccer ball.

“You’re, uh, Bella’s cousin?” The sound of his voice was rough and deep. Your grin faltered to make way for the suprised expression that came across your face.

“Oh, uh, yeah! Um, you know Bella?” You asked, taking the brief moment to get back up onto your feet and readjust the flowy fabric of your sundress that had gotten ruffled up in the capturing of your tiny escapee. You still held Lydia’s hand, and she stayed unmoving by your side, watching the tall man with the same awed expression. A grin spread across his face, and his eyes maintained the same electric glow they’d had from the moment you’d looked at him.

“Bella’s one of my best friends, yeah. She’s told me a lot about you…and… uh Lydia, right?” He spoke gently, his eyes glancing down at the tiny human to your right. You looked down at her, too, and she smiled timidly up at the man, stepping slightly behind your leg shyly. You beamed back at him, nodding and running your fingers through the soft silky baby hair on the top of Lydia’s head.

“Yeah, this is Lydia,” you replied, ruffling her hair until a soft giggle fell from her lips.

“I’m Jacob Black,” he glanced beyond him briefly and jerked his thumb over his shoulder, “those are my buddies Quil, Embry, and Jared. You’re (Y/N)?”

You glanced briefly over to the other three men, though they were now immersed in their own mumbled conservation several yards away; one of them was watching you with interest and flashed a warm smile back at you.

You nodded, turning back to Jacob.

“That’s me,” you answered with a shrug and a smile. When you met his gaze again, his eyes were intense, almost pained, his pupils wide. That electric feeling ran through you again. The eye contact between the two of you lingered each and every time it occurred, as if it was an inconvenience to pull away from it for both of you. Jacob knelt down on one knee, tucking the soccer ball under his arm. His eyes only broke away from yours to glance down at Lydia, who was still watching him intently from her place next to your leg.

“Hi, Lydia, it’s nice to meet you,” he murmured gently, “I’m Jacob.”

There was a hesitation, and you were just about to encourage Lydia to say hello to Jacob, but to your surprise she broke away from you once more, ambling across the sand and reaching her arms out towards the soccer ball Jacob held under his arm. In her uncoordinated stumbling over the sand, she started to fall forwards. Before you could even begin to reach to catch her, one of Jacob’s large hands came out in a flash to support her, stopping her mid fall.

“Woah, buddy, careful there!” He exclaimed, a chuckle coming from his chest.

At the sound of his laughter, your baby beamed up at him, her expression suddenly delighted, and after a moment, a giggle erupted from her own little body.

Your eyes widened, shocked as you watched her laugh, Jacob’s large hand still holding her up off the sand. His eyes flickered to you as you broke into surprised laughter as well, and soon the three of you were a giggling mess. Lydia adored making adults laugh. It was the phase she was currently in: to laugh at everything anyone deemed amusing, and it was common that she would even fake laugh to get you to laugh, which would often result in a real fit of hysterics from the both of you

You were astonished that she’d warmed to a stranger so quickly, especially such a large man - a category of human that toddlers tend to decide is terrifying for no reason.

As the afternoon started to bleed into evening, you and Lydia got to know your new friends. Lydia was very opposed to moving away from them, interested in the soccer ball and jumping around in the sand. Jacob continued to stare intently at you every moment that his eyes weren’t required to be on something else, and you didn’t mind it. His energy was warm and gentle, and even his friends seemed to find his behavior entertaining, chuckling and whispering to eachother every time Jacob’s eyes lingered on you for a few seconds too long. You couldn’t help but feel the heat rush to your face with his stares. You hadn’t really felt this noticed by someone, a man, in what felt like forever. And he was absolutely noticing you. He was doing more than notice you. He was ogling at you, drinking the sight of you in like fresh air for a suffocating man. His eyes turned gentle and soft whenever they fell upon Lydia, and he spent the time as the two of you spoke truly attending to her and her endless toddler games, showing earnest interest in the shells she had picked up and started to stack on one of his feet.

“Oooh, wow, now that one’s pretty. Definitely my favorite one yet.” He carefully examined the newest purple shell Lydia had found and handed to him for inspection. She smiled and clenched her fists in excitement, eagerly racing to find more shells in the sand to bring to him.

His eyes slowly found their way back to yours as you sat beside one another. You smiled softly, and he returned it, the smile reaching his eyes and crinkling them gently.

There it was again, that electricity.

Six Months Later

It had been a whirlwind, these past six months. Meeting Jacob Black had changed life entirely for you and your daughter. After that night on the beach, you, Charlie and Bella had visited the Blacks’ home a few times, joining them for bonfires and pizza dinners whenever a hockey game was on tv. Bella seemed adamant that you visit Jacob often, even Charlie seemed surprised with how eagerly she encouraged you to join them and hang out with the Quileute boys. You’d met Jacob’s father, who seemed to welcome you into his family without hesitation within moments of meeting you. He had peered at you with an intensely inquisitive expression, something that reminded you of the odd gut feeling you hadn’t been able to shake…that your new acquaintances were far more interesting than they let on. There was just something about them, and it felt like a secret club you were looking in on, one that caused the hushed, private conversations that seemed to happen frequently in their presence. You’d spoken to Bella about your encounter with her friend right after that first night on the beach. As the rest of that week had passed, Bella had begun acting suspiciously around you. Within days of her odd avoidant behavior, she finally sat you down to tell you things that challenged your perception of the world, forever.

Vampires and werewolves.

Insanity, right?

Bella had explained her relationship with Edward, and you hadn’t believed it at first.

Like, at all. Who would?

In fact, you thought she’d been completely off her rocker, crazy.

That was, until she’d claimed that Jacob had something to do with it, too.

“You need to go talk to Jacob,” she’d urged, “only he can explain what you need to know.”

You’d been absolutely confused, unsure what Jacob Black had to do with anything, especially with this absurd tale of vampires.

“I’ll watch Lydia. Go,” she’d insisted, practically pushing you out the front door. You were insanely curious; you’d never had any reason to question Bella’s mental competence before, and with her frantic efforts to get you to talk to Jacob, you had to know what this was all about. You still of course doubted the absurd story, but wanted to get to the root of the craziness, naturally.

When you’d arrived at the Black’s house, it seemed Jacob was expecting you, and he’d grabbed your hand gently, pulling you towards his little makeshift garage in the back.

You’d spent hours with him that night. Jacob had tried, while his eyes watered and his voice shook nervously, to explain the wildly unbelievable, and yet somehow completely sensical and validating reality of his ancestral destiny.

“I know, (y/n). Please, believe me, I know this sounds crazy,” he’d said as he anxiously paced across the garage, his eyes flashing to your face for your reaction.

You’d shaken your head, trying to connect the dots in your mind. It matched up with the absurd story Bella had told you, only this time he was speaking of wolves, wolves with the instinctual duty to protect from the supposed vampires Bella become involved with deeply. Wolves that were not wolves, but men. Men that included Jacob and his friends.

“Come with me,” he’d finally insisted sternly as you’d silently refused to accept the words he spoke, staring at him dumbfoundedly.

He’d led you outside, to the dark treeline, and placed his hands up in front of him before you could protest.

“Listen, I know this is gonna be hard to see, (y/n). I didn’t wanna have to do this but I need you to understand. There’s so much more to this world than you think there is. Please,” he’d begged, pulling you into a tight hug, his eyes wildly urging yours to listen to him, his shaky voice reducing to a whisper against your hair, “I understand if you never, ever want to be a part of this. But you deserve to know.”

You’d shaken your head, bewildered.

“What are you talking about, Jake?”

He stood back and started to pull his pants down, and your eyes widened, your eyebrow cocking up in confusion. A smile flashed across his lips.

“Remember what I just told you. I’d never hurt you, okay?”

Your mind flickered to the story he’d just spent the last hour telling you, but your brain simply wouldn’t allow you to defy logic to consider the possibility that the man was truly actually about to turn into a wolf.

And yet, you stood there with your jaw slacked open and your eyes wide, your body frozen as he stepped back several feet, his body twitching and trembling and twisting oddly before…

A ripping sound rang out, a wildly violent sound that came from deep within his body. The sound echoed against the trees, before it fell hauntingly silent across the dark backyard. Within less than a moment, a massive red brown wolf was standing before you, his huge head only inches away from your face.

Your mind didn’t comprehend the sight, the reality too unreal and too intangible to wrap around and understand. Those same brown eyes you’d come to know and feel safe in stared back at you intently from the massive wolf’s face.

It was the last image you remembered before you’d fallen to the ground, slipping into a shock driven unconsciousness.

When you’d woken, you had been in Jacob’s bed, an ice pack being gently repeatedly pressed to your forehead and neck.

It had been a rude awakening, but one that had forced open your eyes to a world that quickly became home for you, lifting the veil of reality that you’d come know.

Jacob’s next explanation was that of the concept of imprinting. That night, after you’d settled and moved out of your state of shock, started speaking real words again, Jacob expressed why he felt it was necessary to expose you to his world. He’d explained the ancient way of imprinting, what it meant for him, what it meant for you. That first day on the beach, the way he’d look at you, that electricity. It all made sense now.

“It’s you, (y/n). Now that you’re here, I will follow you anywhere. Even if you don’t want to be part of this, I’ll always protect you and Lydia from afar. Always. I can’t imagine a world anymore without you, a life without you. The moment I saw you, I felt it. My heart was yours,” he’d murmured, his arms around you as he rubbed your back to calm your tremors that had come across your body as you tried desperately to adjust to your entirely new concept of existence.

That felt so long ago, now. You’d met the Cullens soon after you were welcomed into the world of the supernatural, joining Bella in her secretive lifestyle of hiding the direct truth from Charlie, only letting him in on what he absolutely needed to know. Charlie was over the moon that you and Jacob got together; he pissed Bella off with how openly he approved of your relationship with Jacob over hers with Edward. Jacob didn’t feel right having you live in a spare bedroom at the Swan house, and had practically demanded you move into a home on the reservation with him. He’d jokingly insisted that it wasn’t his fault, that the imprint had forced him to need you in his sight at all times. You didn’t resist, elated to finally feel welcome in a home with your Lydia. And it wasn’t hard - Jacob made that incredibly simple. He so openly loved Lydia nearly as much as he loved you. Sometimes, you wondered how deeply the imprinting had impacted him. He accepted it and took it on with respect. He never pressured you to be anything but there, in his life. He didn’t seem to mind in the slightest or even really notice how slowly you were allowing him into your heart. The relationship you had with Jacob had begun as a deep and true friendship, but the imprint connection was impossible to ignore, and there was undeniable attraction you felt for him, even beyond his beautifully kind heart and spirit. You held hands constantly, even before you’d established any sort of romantic connection. The first night Jacob had kissed you, you’d expressed your hesitation at pulling him into your life. You’d gotten used to men not wanting much to do with a single mom, after Noah had made it clear that you and Lydia were essentially a burden in his life. You were scared, not only for your own heart, but for Lydia’s. You couldn’t bear to bring another man into her life only for him to reject her like her father had. But Jacob? He’d adamantly refused to let your anxieties overcome you. He loved you, he’d insisted. All of you. Lydia was part of you. So, he loved her. It was that simple to him. He was often just as anxious when Lydia was out of his sight as when you were.

You remember the first time Lydia had called Jake ‘Dada’, several months after you’d been exposed to this world of fantasy. Lydia had gotten so comfortable with him, more comfortable than she’d been with any person, besides you, before. She babbled with excitement every time she heard you or Charlie or Bella mention him, and begged to see him frequently. Once you’d moved into the small red house with Jacob, she’d jump and squeal every time his truck pulled into the driveway at the end of the day.

That day she first said the word, you’d nervously glanced at his face, searching for his response.

She’d been holding his hand, walking along the shore at La Push. It was winter by this point, but Lydia needed her regular beach walk, and was bundled in her tiny red puffer jacket and white hat. She’d stooped down to pick up a shell, gripping it in her small fist, and jerked her hand out to him, dropping the shell into his hand.

“Dada!” She’d squealed as she waited for his approval of the shell.

His eyes had lit up and an expression of utter shock, which had quickly shifted into ecstatic bliss, moved across his features. His eyes had flashed to yours, and he clearly struggled, with everything in him, to hold back a massive grin. He was unsure of your reaction. Your eyes had melted back at him, and you were completely unable to resist the smile that crossed your lips. His dark eyes had turned glossy, and he’d looked back down at Lydia’s impatiently waiting face as she’d stared up at him, grasping the shell and embracing her in a massive bear hug. She’d laughed and shrieked, wrapping her tiny arms around his neck.

At Lydia’s 2nd birthday party, the whole pack had celebrated with you and Jacob at Billy’s house. The rest of the boys had happily taken on the role of proud uncles, practically fighting over who could hold her whenever you brought her over.

Life was peaceful, and you’d taken on a job at the La Push Farmer’s market. Childcare was a breeze now: on any given day while you were at work, either Sue & Charlie or Emily would eagerly babysit Lydia if Jacob was out on patrol or working his shift as a mechanic at the local bike shop. Lydia now had a family that was larger and more loving than you could have ever dreamed for her.

And you couldn’t ignore the fateful gift that you’d received too. Jacob Black was yours, and you were his. And you knew that, without a single doubt, he’d protect you and your daughter with relentless fervor for the rest of your lives.

You were safe. You were loved.

You were home.

#twilight #imagines #fanfic #twilight imagines #jacob black #jacob black x reader

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absurdthirst · 2 years ago

Text

An Unconventional Arrangement {Dieter Bravo x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 22.8k

Warnings: Marriage arrangement, talks of unfaithfulness, talks of drugs and drug use, threesomes, anal sex (male receiving), oral sex (female receiving), loss of virginity, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, disagreements, angry sex, fainting, pregnancy

Comments: When Dieter Bravo learns that he must take a wife in order to continue treading the board of his beloved theatre, he comes up with an unconventional idea. Marrying his secretary. You do more than manage his household, you run his life and attend to the business aspects that his father believes he deals with. The arrangement will benefit you because of your change in social status. Just don’t fall in love with him, because he won’t change his ways.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList ||

Edit of Regency Pedro by @mustyrosewater

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

Dieter slams the door to his study, his father having just left after dropping the bomb about the clause to his inheritance. His father had informed him that it's time for him to stop messing around with acting. He needs to find his place in society and that includes taking a wife. If he doesn’t get married within the next three months, the townhouse he lives in will be taken away and he will be stripped of his monthly allowance. Dieter cannot allow that to happen. His acting career is only possible because he can afford to do what he wants with his time. He has to find a wife. Someone pliable that will understand it’s an arrangement. There’s a timid knock on the door and he growls, “fuck off.”

You huff, opening the door regardless of his growl and you enter the room of your enraged boss. “I need your signature for the food delivery. I cannot forge it again.” You sigh, holding the piece of paper out towards him.

Taking the paper, he doesn’t even bother looking at the amount, just throwing it down on his desk and reaching for his pen to scrawl his name across the bottom, authorizing funds to be paid to the merchant. He trusts you to make sure he has the liquor he likes and food he eats without bothering to check your work. You are loyal to him. His pen stops, a thought making him pause and he quickly shakes his head and throws down the pen after finishing his signature and thrusting the paper back towards you. “Do not disturb me.” He orders you, knowing that if you wanted to, that order wouldn’t stop you. You run his household, his business affairs really, with all the aptitude of a legitimate man of business without the ego.

You grip the paper, rolling your eyes at your temperamental boss. “Very well sir.” You say with a little bit of sass before your skirt sways around your ankles while you exit his office, slamming the door behind you. His household is easy to maintain, him…not so much. Dieter has you organize everything…even his drug delivery. The cocaine delivered the same day of the week at the same time so he knows exactly how to portion it out for the week to keep him from withdrawals. He is high maintenance but you came from nothing and his home has provided you with an income and shelter. You can manage him almost as well as you manage his home.

Fuck. Dieter groans and tosses himself down into his chair, pouting. A wife. A family. Things that Dieter has never wanted. He was too free with his affections, not wanting to be tied down or beholden to anyone. He enjoyed going over to the discreet brothel down near the waterfront where he could have anything and everything he wanted. Liaisons with co-stars. Men. A wife would ruin all of that. Unless he could find someone who would let him live his life as he wanted, to just play the role he needed her to play for his family. Rubbing his hand over his eyes, he reaches for the desk drawer where his snuff container was kept. Maybe a line or two would help him think of who that woman could be.

You are finishing up your correspondence for the day. Writing letters on behalf of your boss and expertly forging his signature to make it look like he actually approved the letter. After handing the letters to the butler to ensure they are mailed out in the morning, you make your way upstairs to your room. You gasp at the sight of a figure pacing outside of your door. “Dieter?” You ask, your hand over your chest when he steps into the light and you see who it is.

“You’re here.” Dieter blinks, sighing in relief and rushes towards you, scooping you up into his arms for a hug like you are his salvation. In a sense, you are. After contemplating every option and discarding them as inappropriate or totally unmanageable, he finally came up with it. You would be his wife. You already run his life, much like a wife would do. Except this time you would have the prestige and backing of the Bravo name to help you, rather than just being his housekeeper. “I need you to help me with something.” He tells you quickly. “I need you to marry me.”

You can’t stop the choke of disbelief that escapes your lips. “You want me to- your wife? Dieter. Did they - did they lace your cocaine?” You chuckle, thinking he’s just high.

“No. No. I’m sober…kind of. I just - I need you to marry me.”

You stare at him and sigh, reaching into your pocket to open your door. “Come inside and explain it to me.” You order, fumbling with the lock for a moment before opening the door. You sit down on your bed and pat the space beside you, waiting for his explanation.

He’s never been in these rooms, the servants quarters. He had never dallied with someone who worked in his household, a painful lesson he learned when his father fired the maid he had been sleeping with during his school days. The bed is small and there is barely room for a dresser and wash basin. “My father has decided it’s time that I ‘get my act together’.” He scoffs. “I am to be cut off unless I marry.”

You click your tongue, realizing now why he wants to marry. You figured Dieter would be a perpetual bachelor. He’s skilled at avoiding the mother hens at social gatherings, all seeking a husband for their newly out-to-society daughters. The Bravo name is big in New York, Dieter’s older brother is the darling of the family. The big banker with a beautiful wife and two point five children. The perfect heir to the estate. You always wondered how Dieter managed to escape marriage and the expectations set for someone of his social standing. “Why me?” You blurt out, confused as to why he would pick his secretary and not some silly debutante.

“You won’t expect anything of me.” He announces. “It won’t be a match based on love or expectations of faithfulness.” He snorts and shakes his head, unable to imagine that. “I will continue to act and dally with whomever I choose and you will get to be a Bravo. Have doors opened for you and a social status you could never achieve.” He’s blunt about it, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. Marrying you would make it easier, he wouldn’t have to hide himself. He hates that, especially in his own home.

You bite your lip, contemplating his offer. You know Dieter inside and out, all of his bad habits and his lifestyle. Most wives are too innocent to know about their husband’s extra marital activities but you’d be well aware. It doesn’t bother you. You had accepted a life as a spinster, life in the service until you were too old to be of use. That or you’d find some sweet valet to marry and end up stuck at home looking after a tiny apartment with screaming children. This opportunity allows you to create your own fate. You ponder it for another moment, imagining being able to publish a book with the Bravo name behind you. “I will marry you,” you agree, “what other terms do you have?”

Dieter’s brows shoot up, having anticipated you needing more convincing than this. He hums and tilts his head. “You have to promise that you won’t get huffy if I go out to the club or bring someone home.” He ventures. “However, I will have to sleep with you on the wedding night. Consummate the marriage.” He holds up a finger. “Oh, and do not get pregnant by someone else and try to pass the bastard off as my heir.”

You shake your head, “I am a virgin and I - if I was your wife - I would never besmirch your name by laying with another. I would be loyal to you and I would understand that you could not give me that in return.”

Dieter nods, his stomach twisting at the news that you are a virgin. It’s been a while since he has had to handle a virgin. “And I do not want any children. No heir to continue this madness that my father and brother have forced upon me. I do not wish to force my child to endure a lifetime of the weight of the Bravo name. Do you accept this condition?” He asks, knowing that some women are aching to have a child.

“I accept.” You reply, knowing that it is a full time job looking after Dieter and you’ve accepted children were never in your future once you had taken the post as his secretary.

Dieter blows out a breath and nods. “Alright.” He is relieved that you have agreed, making this easier for him to deal with his father and could continue living exactly as he had been. “We will need to dress you appropriately as my fiancée.” He looks you up and down and actually takes in your curves for a moment. He cock twitches, imagining you underneath him and you taking his cock for the first time. The only man you would sleep with. It terrifies him, but it also intrigues him. “We will take you shopping and then we will schedule dinner with my parents. Have them plan a party to announce our engagement.”

“They won’t mind you being with your secretary? I'm not a debutante or a lady.” You are a little self conscious of your background as the daughter of a farmer from Delaware. His parents can trace their bloodline back for generations.

“They will just be happy that I am settling down.” He assures you, “tomorrow, we will take you shopping to ensure you are dressed for your new life.” You nod, stomach twisting with nerves. You are now engaged to Dieter Bravo.

****

The next day, you arrange the dinner with his parents, not telling their secretary what it is regarding, just that Dieter has news he’d wish to share. That afternoon, Dieter had arranged for you to meet a sales associate to secure a new wardrobe. More clothes than you’ve had during your entire life. Gowns, day dresses, nightwear and…lingerie. The last one made your cheeks burn as the sales associate helped you pick the best items for your soon to be married life, joking that these items bring the babies into the world. You had chuckled nervously at that and picked what you liked best, trying not to imagine what Dieter would like on you to consummate the marriage. The next day is the day of the dinner and Dieter had Cook hire a lady’s maid for you. The young girl - Cynthia - helped you get ready for the dinner in the most expensive dress you’ve ever worn. It’s beautiful, lace and silk. Hugging your curves and making your cleavage look enticing but not too exposed. Wringing your hands together, you wait for Dieter to escort you down to the sitting room to wait for his parents.

Dieter’s man helps him straighten his tie and his eagle eyes run over the suit that he had picked out for Dieter to wear tonight. It was important to show that you are a good influence on him, especially to his father. He would accept you if he could show that you could curb some of Dieter’s more impulsive acts. Like the time he had attended a dinner party in day clothes. “You are ready, sir.” Dieter nods and smiles at the older gentleman. “Thank you, Harold.” He moves towards the door of his dressing room, needing to make his way to the suite that the lady of the house possesses, where he had moved you into earlier today.

You exhale shakily when Dieter knocks on the door, brushing down your dress as Cynthia opens the door, nodding her head to her boss before she scurries down the hall. “Am I acceptable?” You ask Dieter, a small smile on your face as you tease slightly to cover your nerves. You are worried his parents will reject you - they probably should, considering this is a farce.

He’s stunned for a moment, completely breathless as he takes in the sight of you in the beautiful silk dress that is the height of fashion right now. You look….beautiful. Your hair is perfectly styled and the dress flatters your body, making his cock twitch again as he thinks about taking it off of you. “It’s missing something.” He tells you after a small cough. Reaching into his jacket pocket to pull out the ring that he had picked out from the jeweler today. Even if you weren’t going to have a traditional marriage, you are going to be his wife and you cannot have an inferior ring on your finger. He opens the box and shows you the ring. “This will make it perfect.”

Your eyes widen as you stare at the beautiful diamond. “Dieter. It’s…extravagant.” You breathe out, certain that this ring costs more than the income of several generations of your family. “It has to be if you are to be my wife.” He retorts with a chuckle, knowing his family name is of the utmost importance to maintaining his carefree lifestyle. “Well, can I put it on you?” He asks and you nod, holding out your shaking hand. He tuts, grabbing your hand after taking the ring out of the box, the velvet box tossed onto the rug, then he slides it onto your finger. “There. Now you are perfect.” He says, his eyes trailing over you again. You aren’t sure why it makes your stomach twist, an uneasy feeling that isn’t bad, just different.

“I’m ready.” You tell him, knowing that his acting skills will have to carry this facade.

Dieter wraps your hand around his arm and pats the top of it gently. “We will get through this together.” He promises you. “My parents will be thrilled. Especially since you are able to reign me in.” He snorts since that is not the agreement between you, but his parents don’t know that. Guiding you out of your new bedroom, the two of you make your way to the ornate staircase leading downstairs just as the door knocker echoes in the entryway. “Ready or not.” Dieter mutters as he flashes you a smile and the two of you descend down the stairs as the butler opens the door to greet his parents.

You inhale deeply, your knees shaking a little as his parents enter the foyer. Mrs. Bravos is a kind woman whenever you’ve made her acquaintance while planning a function at the Bravo mansion. Sometimes she asks her sons to provide additional staff for her parties. You have only heard stories of Mr. Bravo, a shrewd man with an eye for business and a need for his family to be top among New York society. “Mr. And Mrs. Bravo,” the butler declares as he gestures to the couple.

“Father.” Dieter nods to the older man who has the same striking nose and sharp jaw. “Mother.” There is a small smile reserved for the woman who had given birth to him. She had encouraged him in some of his free spiritedness although a lot of it had come naturally from his resisting societal expectations. “I would like to introduce you to my fiancée.” He announces, telling them your name and turning to give you an adoring smile.

His father sighs and shakes his head. “What is the meaning of this?” He asks Dieter. “Have you dallied with the help again and managed to get her pregnant?”

Dieter chokes and shakes his head, frowning at his father. “My fiancée is still pure.” He informs his father tightly, tensing beside you. “She is most definitely not pregnant nor have I slept with the ‘help’ again.” He should have known that his father would make comments that weren’t kind.

You knew that his father has always been prickly but to hear his dismissal of you before he even knows you upsets you. “With all due respect sir, I would not accept your son’s proposal if I was sullied or with child. I would never jeopardize your family name like that. I may not come from good standing but my father taught me morality and ethics. I accepted your son’s proposal knowing that I am not what you would have wanted for him but I will try hard to ensure that I am worthy of your last name.”

There is a pregnant pause and Dieter wants to kiss you for simply making his father’s normally prickly mouth close for even a moment. “Well now that we have dispensed with the pleasantries, would you like to go into the parlor for a before dinner drink? Or shall we sit down?” Dieter asks, proud of you for standing up for yourself.

You wait for his father to recover, his mouth setting in a hard line. “Let’s sit down. Your mother wants to discuss the nuptials.” His father’s tone is harsh and slightly defeated. Dieter nods and the butler escorts you into the dining room.

Dieter pulls your chair out, making his mother smile, and you look up at him and murmur, “thank you.” You are a little uneasy, knowing the rest of the staff as well as you do, to have them watching you sit at the dining table. Most are aware of the arrangement but all of them are too well paid to risk revealing anything. Every household has their secrets and this one is no exception, but a well paid job is hard to come by so you know none of them will risk their income.

Once seated, the wine has been poured, making Dieter lean back in his seat. “I am assuming that you and mother would like to host an engagement ball?” He asks, looking between the two people who had brought him into the world. “Followed by a wedding in two weeks time?” He looks over at you to see how you felt about this. “Between your staff and mine, mother, I believe that we can get this done without too much upheaval.”

His mother grins and looks over at you. “We will go to the dressmaker first to ensure the gown can be completed in time. We have a lot of details to go over. Flowers. Food. You shall have the reception at our home. Oh, music! So much to think about. We will make sure it is a fabulous wedding. My youngest is getting married.” She chokes, her eyes watering up.

“Meredith please.” His father scoffs, shaking his head.

Dieter barely keeps from rolling his eyes, stopped only by the way that you lean over and place your hand on his arm. It’s an incredibly intimate move and it makes him refocus on you rather than his father’s irritability. Giving you a small smile, Dieter picks up your hand and kisses the back of it. “Let the women get emotional.” He murmurs to his father. “It will be the last wedding she will be able to plan, unless my brother’s daughters get married young.”

You smile at Meredith who practically beams at Dieter for how he treats you. “Precisely. My youngest son is getting married to a beautiful, smart woman. Let me indulge.” She almost begs her husband who relents and nods his consent to his wife.

“It’s a good thing your bride knows how to organize.” His father hums.

Before another word can be said, the appetizer is served and you bite your lip, confused by all the silverware. Before you can make a fool of yourself, Dieter leans over to whisper into your ear. “Outside in. Watch me.” He orders, kissing your cheek to conceal his assistance. His mother grins at the move and you are surprised by the way your heart thumps in response to the soft kiss. You watch him pick up the knife and fork and follow his lead, trying your best to eat elegantly.

The thing that was good about dinners with his parents is that while you are eating, his father doesn’t expect anyone to engage in conversation. The small scraps of the silverware against the china is all that can be heard. Dieter sneaks looks over at you, amazed that you are making the act of eating look elegant and slightly erotic, watching you bring the spoon up to your lips and sipping demurely, making him think about other ways your lips could be used that are not respectable.

You don’t notice Dieter’s gaze as you wrap your lips around the spoon, your heart hammering as you try to make a good impression. When the coffee is served after dessert, you know you are near the finish line. “I shall call on you in the morning for the dress appointment. Will your mother be joining us?” Meredith asks.

You shake your head, biting your lip to stop the tears that sting your eyes from falling. “My mother…she died when I was a child from influenza.” You reveal once you’ve swallowed the lump in your throat.

He didn’t know that, never really paying attention to those types of things with the staff. His heart lurches and he reaches for your hand again, squeezing it gently. “I am very sure that my mother would be delighted to have you consider her an honorary mother.” He tells you softly. “She had always wished for a daughter to spoil and unfortunately, father got his second son.” He jokes, knowing that it would make you smile.

You smile, squeezing his hand back as he comforts you. You’ve rarely seen a caring side to your boss. Usually he only cares about himself. You stare at him for a moment before looking back at his mother. “I would have loved a daughter. The dresses? The dolls? Oh, much better than muddy boys.” She winks at you, “you’ll hopefully find that out soon enough when you have your own children.”

Dieter coughs discreetly, not bothering to mention that children will not be something that you will have to worry about. It’s not something that he will bring up, knowing that his father will have something to say about it. Instead he just hums and stands. “We should retire to the drawing room.” He offers. “An after dinner sherry?”

You can’t help but be a little sad to not have a child but you had agreed to marry Dieter and that was one of the terms. You’d mourn that later, not now. “That sounds wonderful dear.” You say to Dieter, taking his hand as he helps you up from the chair, making his mother grin.

“Yes and we can discuss your preferences on the luncheon. Perhaps pheasant would be a nice change from the usual wedding fare. Something fancier for my son and his beautiful bride.” Meredith coos and part of you feels guilty that she is doing all of this work for a fake marriage.

“Whatever my bride wants.” Dieter is positively smug about how well this is going. His mother is fully on your side and that means his father will come around. He may never admit it, but his father usually gives his mother what she wants. The four of you make your way into the drawing room, the staff having placed a tray with the sherry and four sniffers in here for this occasion. When his parents were here, all evidence of Dieter’s hedonistic life was hidden from view.

You are surprised to see a lack of all things Dieter, a display of civility that is usually lacking in the drawing room. You quickly conceal your surprise and take the sherry from Dieter’s hand, thanking him before you settle on the loveseat. “Sit next to your bride, Dieter.” Meredith tuts, settling down next to her quiet husband on the sofa opposite. Dieter nods and sits next to you with his own glass. “So…how did you propose, Dieter?” Meredith asks, wanting to know the details of her son’s sudden change of heart. She isn’t aware of her husband’s ultimatum.

Dieter was close to taking his first sip of his sherry when his mother asks the question. Making him freeze and pull the glass down and look over at you. “To be completely candid, mother, I ambushed her.” He reveals, shifting his drink over to his other hand and reaching for yours. “I had discovered - after much reflection - that she was perfect for me, everything I wanted in a wife.” He gushes. “I was pacing outside her room door when she was done with her daily work.”

You bite your lip, acting bashful when really, you are trying to stop yourself from blurting out that it’s all fake. His mother is too kind and caring to be a part of this charade. “Why is she perfect for you?” His father’s tone is cutting, curious and cunning as he tries to discover why his son has decided to marry one of his staff.

Dieter bristles slightly, his smile turning slightly stony, but he sends you a small wink. “Because this gorgeous creature can make me behave myself.” He lies, you’ve never tried to control him. “She understands my position and she has never once failed to run my household with the utmost care.” His father didn’t know you ran his business affairs, thinking that he had done them himself. “It helps that she is able to smooth my ruffled feathers and looks stunning on my arm.”

You smile, a little taken back by the softness in his voice but then you remind yourself that he is an actor, this is what he does. Makes an audience believe what he is saying. “I’ll keep him in line.” You chuckle, wrapping your arm around Dieter’s and leaning towards him. His mother beams and his father frowns, not quite sold. The drinks are soon gone and Dieter doesn’t offer another round, wanting his parents out of his home.

“It was lovely meeting you, my future daughter. Let’s meet in the morning to begin your wedding dress and I’ll have my secretary arrange an appointment.” She smiles at you, leaning in to kiss your cheek. Your stomach twists, enjoying her warmth since you had not experienced that after losing your mother.

“Thank you.” You smile at her, pulling back when she steps away. His father offers you a look as his goodbye but you don’t shrink under it, determined to not let him win. “It was a pleasure, Mr. Bravo.” You tell him and he just grunts in response. Once his parents leave, you sigh in relief, the corset suddenly too restrictive and you turn towards Dieter. “I - I need you to loosen my corset. I can’t breathe.” You gasp, suddenly overwhelmed by the prospect of continuing this charade.

Dieter’s eyes widen but he rushes over, unbuttoning the small pearls buttons of your gown so he can tug it down. “You were magnificent.” He praises as he works, thick fingers making quick work of the tiny buttons. He has plenty of practice getting dresses off his co-stars and lovers.

His fingers brush your skin as he works on untying your corset, loosening it enough so you can finally inhale deeply. You close your eyes, trying to stop that stupid feeling that tells you this is going to end in disaster. You have no choice. He’s your only path to publishing your novel. “Sorry. I just - I was overwhelmed.” You turn to face him, meeting his dark eyes and you fluster when you realize you had him practically undress you. “Sorry. I didn’t - I should’ve asked Cynthia.”

Smirking, he steps back and shakes his head. “I have undressed many lovers.” He reminds you, forcing himself to keep his eyes on yours. Since you had accepted his agreement, he finds himself eager to see more of you, to touch you. Things he had never wanted before, not seemingly irresistible. “Tomorrow will be busy.” He murmurs, shaking off the thought and deciding that he needed to go out. “You should go to bed. I am going to the club.” He tells you. “I need to blow off some steam after a night with my parents.”

You nod, trying to ignore that sinking feeling in your stomach. You know that he doesn’t want to spend more time with you than what is required. Social events and limited interactions at home. “Have a good time. Goodnight Dieter.” You offer him a small smile before you make your way up the main stairs to your new bedroom.

He watches the door after you leave for far longer than he would have liked. Trying to convince himself that he needs to go to the club. Shaking his head, he moves to leave the drawing room as well, reaching for his coat before the butler could. “I will be out late.” He informs his man, knowing he needs to go fuck someone, go get high. Maybe get fucked himself.

Dieter groans, thrusting into the woman beneath him while the man pushes his hips against his ass, cock buried deep inside of him. Dieter’s mind is finally at peace, making him cry out as his orgasm nears. The haze of the drugs he had smoked hangs heavy in the air and he is thrilled to forget about his future. His damnation. He won’t allow you to pigeonhole him in a relationship. You may be pretty - stunning even - but you won’t drag him into boring matrimony. It’s an arrangement. Just an arrangement.

****

The next morning comes far too early in Dieter’s opinion. Bleary eyed and slightly hungover, he had not even returned to his townhouse until the early morning hours. Only the threat of his mother being here bright and early to take you to find a wedding dress had him up and seated at the breakfast table, his hair poking up in every direction and his mood dark as he sips his first cup of coffee and desperately wishes for a line of coke before she arrives. His plate is in front of him and the newspaper set off to the side so he can open it up and pretend he is reading it when she arrives, like his father does at breakfast every morning.

You enter the dining room for breakfast, still not used to striding in here when you would make your way downstairs to have breakfast with the other staff long before this time in the morning. It’s made you realize how luxurious it is to be among the elite and how grateful you are for this opportunity. “Goodness, you look awful.” You tell Dieter as you sit down beside him. Never one to mince your words, you stare at him until the butler comes over to pour your tea. You pick up the spoon, popping in a cube of sugar before stirring, the metal hitting the side of the delicate china.

“Fuck. Can you stop making so much noise?” Dieter groans, rubbing his eyes.

You chuckle, making him groan again, “late night was it darling?” You tease, picking up your cup to take a sip of the tea.

Dieter opens his eyes, glaring at you in annoyance. Who knew you’d be so fucking aggravating this time in the morning? Perhaps he should take his breakfast in his room. “You may be my future wife but if you think you can make fun of me you can go fu- oh, good morning mother.” His demeanor changes as his mother enters the dining room unannounced.

“Goodness Dieter. What happened to you? You look like the cat dragged you in.” His mother is innocent to his perversions, always thinking her son was a gentleman.

“He was restless worrying about the wedding. Weren’t you sweetheart?” You coo, reaching out to run your fingers through his messy hair to smooth it down.

His head is pounding but he groans at the feeling of your fingers scratching against his scalp. “Yes.” He rasps out, grateful that at least you had made sure that his mother was kept in the dark. “Pacing in my study, wanting to make sure that everything goes right.” He captures your hand and brings it down to kiss it, partly in thanks for your quick thinking before he lets go and picks up his coffee again. Since she is here, his mother sits down and the cook’s assistant rushes to place a tea cup in front of her.

Your hand tingles from his kiss and you look at him for several moments until his mother says your name. “I beg your pardon, Mrs. Bravo?” You turn to look at her.

“Meredith. Please, we are to be family. I asked about your preferences for a gown. Do you have any requests?” She picks up a piece of toast, taking a delicate bite while waiting for your response.

“No requests.” You answer honestly, “I just want something that will make Dieter’s jaw drop.” You smile, knowing deep down you want to impress him.

She giggles, “any gown you wear will make my son’s jaw drop. We will make sure to find nightwear that makes his trousers drop.” She teases, making your eyes widen and you can’t stop the giggle that escapes your lips when you look over at Dieter who is actually blushing.

“Mother.” He huffs, in embarrassment, not used to his mother talking like that.

“Come now, Dieter, I am fully aware that you are not the blushing virgin your bride is.” She waves away his complaint and looks over at you with motherly affection. “You and I will discuss what you should expect on your wedding night and I know my son will not disappoint you.” There is a slightly pointed order to her words, making Dieter duck his head and pick up his coffee cup again as if he was still in the nursery.

“Yes, madam.” He mutters, wondering when the two of you will leave and let him suffer his hangover in peace.

Your mouth opens and closes in shock, unsure of how to respond to his mother. There’s so much she doesn’t know, so much she must never find out. “Plus you will need to please your wife if you plan for her to have your babies.” Meredith winks at you.

You chuckle awkwardly and Dieter just shakes his head and groans, “it’s too early for this shit.” His muttered groan doesn’t escape his mother’s ears but she seems to ignore it.

“Come now dear, eat up. We can’t be late for our appointment.” You follow her order and soon enough, you are both leaving Dieter in peace to eat his breakfast and recover from his hangover.

Dieter finds himself unable to eat after the two of you leave, pushing his plate and his coffee away and cradling his head in his hands. The wedding night. What he had been trying to forget and his mother had so brazenly brought it up. Last night had been what he wanted, yet he had still thought about the fact that he would be taking you to bed when you walked into the breakfast room.

Instantly making his cock twitch despite having fucked to exhaustion just hours before. It’s an arrangement. He would fuck you to consumate the vows and then he will go back to doing exactly what he wants, which is anyone who catches his eye. You will be his wife, not his lover.

You stare at yourself in the mirror, admiring the lace and silk gown that makes you look like a bride. It’s overwhelming. The most expensive clothing you’ve ever worn and it’s beautiful. You are in shock but Meredith claps her hands together, admiring the gown. “It will need to be adjusted but it looks incredible. My future daughter will be the talk of the town.” She grins, walking closer to you, “my son won’t be able to keep his hands off of you for the reception. He will be speechless…for once in his life. It’s - it’s perfect. What do you think, dear?” She asks you and all you can do is nod. Part of you is sad that your mother isn’t here for this moment.

“It’s perfect.” You choke, tears in your eyes and that makes Meredith practically squeal.

“We will take it.” She says to the dressmaker.

“Meredith. It’s so exp-” You sigh but she cuts you off. “It’s a wedding and you are now our family. No bookkeeping for this event. There’s no budget. Just let me spoil you.” She pleads, making you pause before you nod your head. You feel so guilty. This arrangement is a farce and she believes her son is in love with you and wants to marry you. Have a family with you. It’s almost too much to bear. You open your mouth but she cuts you off, telling you that the lingerie is next. Mortified and distracted, you let the dressmaker pin the dress before you are escorted to the dressing room to change back into your day clothes. You wonder how you will survive the wedding day. It’s only two weeks away.

****

Dieter sighs, keeping the interested expression on his face as the receiving line continues to go on. Despite the fact that the invitations were issued last minute, everyone had decided to attend the Bravo ball. His acting company was put out because his attendance was required and that meant that his understudy was performing tonight. He had begged them to understand. This would allow him to continue to perform without interference from now on. Still, the tedium of standing to greet everyone was wearing on his nerves. Turning to you, he once again is struck by how beautiful you look in the new ball gown his mother had sent over for you. “Enjoying ‘society’?” He murmurs sarcastically in your ear. “They are a boring lot, aren’t they?”

You bite your lip to smother your smirk before you nod, looking at your fiancé. “Certainly not the most entertaining folk I’ve ever been around. It has made me realize that downstairs is where the fun is.” You remember the various laughs and stories you’d shared with the staff during meals and brief interactions. No one in this ballroom seems inclined to crack a smile. “No wonder you prefer the company of actors.” You murmur, turning your head and you realize how close his face is to yours. You swallow harshly, meeting those dark eyes and he remains close until an old lady bedazzled in jewels approaches from down the line.

“Ah you must be the farmer's daughter everyone is talking about. Dieter, pleasure to see you again. I am curious - since everyone else is too shy to ask - why would you pick a member of your household to marry? Perhaps you have dallied with the wrong sort and needed a quick marriage?” She assumes more than questions while her eyes drop to your stomach.

Dieter bristles and straightens his back ramrod straight. “Mrs. Alford.” He nods his head briefly in acknowledgment before he slides his hand around your waist to bring you closer to his side. Signaling silently that he was protective of you. “No joyous occasion to happen soon, I assure you.” He gives a small laugh as if he found the comment amusing, although his eyes were cold. “My intended is the woman I had been searching for since I was at school, I was just too blind to see it right away.” He turns and gives you a loving look. “As the second son, I am allowed to marry for love, so I am.”

You look at him in awe, knowing that this question will be thrown at you a lot during the next two weeks until you have the protection of his name and the rumors settle down. Some other hot piece of gossip will come along eventually. “Very well. I suppose congratulations are in order, my dear. Not everyone is so fortunate to make their way up the pecking order as spectacularly as you.” She quips before striding off.

“Bitch.” Dieter hisses and makes no move to remove his hand from your waist.

“Brother. This must be the unfortunate soul you’ve conned into marrying you.” The older of the Bravo Brothers, Alexander, appears with his prim and proper wife by his side.

Dieter snorts and shakes his head, reaching out with his other hand to shake his brother’s with enthusiasm. His brother was a good man, despite excelling in their father’s expectations. “She is thrilled to be my wife.” Dieter counters, looking over at you with a smirk. “Aren’t you, my love? You should feel sorry for my sister-in-law for being married to the older brother who tormented me when we were in the nursery together.”

You smile, enjoying the banter between the two brothers. “I am certain that our marriage will never be dull.” You answer, a soft smile on your face as you look at Dieter.

“That’s for sure.” Alexander’s wife giggles softly.

“You must tell me what made a beautiful creature like you fall for my wild bronco of a brother.” He asks and you ponder your answer for a moment. Deciding to answer honestly with your thoughts about your boss, you look back at the couple.

“He is unlike anyone I’ve ever met before. Refusing to adhere to societal norms while forging his own path to ensure ultimate happiness in whatever he endeavors. There is madness to that quality but it’s admirable nonetheless. Deciding to live one’s life for themselves instead of adhering to what is expected…it’s brave. Dieter is a mind full of information, stored from the amount of reading he enjoys and I know he is much smarter than he allows others to observe. He knows that life is short and one must enjoy it as much as possible. It doesn’t hurt that he is handsome too.” You add with affection.

Stunned by your assessment of him, Dieter turns to his brother, concealing his shock with a pleased grin. “See? She thinks I’m perfect.” He jokes, fully aware that you know all of his faults. Ones that his family do not even know about.

You smile, looking at him and you have never realized how handsome he truly is. You admire his profile, his beautiful nose, and his perfectly straight teeth as he laughs at something his brother says. Shit. You mentally curse, it could be easy to fall in love with him. Shaking your head a little, you engage in conversation with his brother’s wife until they move on to find a glass of champagne. “Everything okay?” Dieter asks, leaning closer and you inhale the scent of tobacco and something else.

“Ye- yes. Yes. Absolutely fine.” You choke out, stepping out of his embrace once his parents begin their toast of your engagement.

Dieter turns to see his father command everyone’s attention. “Tonight we are gathered here to announce and celebrate our youngest son, Dieter’s engagement.” He tells the crowd.

You stand straight, trying to maintain an air that could possibly match that of the others in the ballroom. You make yourself believe that you belong here among the elite of New York. “We are happy that Dieter has finally found a woman to make his wife, completing our family for now until they have children. We always knew Dieter would be unconventional. He was a strange child, burying himself in books and plays instead of playing outside with the other children. He continues to be unconventional by marrying the help.” His father says before Meredith gently nudges her husband. “However, we are happy that our son is happy so please, raise your glasses to the happy couple.” You frown, not liking the veiled insults within his speech but Dieter hands you a glass of champagne and when you toast, you vow to put his father in his place. Maybe not tonight but one day.

Dieter huffs, muttering under his breath as he tips his champagne back and plasters a smile on his face. The last thing he wants is for any of the elite to think that he wasn’t wild about marrying you. It would be enough of a trial for you as it was and he wants you to be accepted. The applause is loud and he turns to you with a grin. “At least the wedding will be a smaller, family affair.” He promises, having insisted that you both did not want some grand affair.

You nod, sipping the champagne as you offer a small smile to the crowd. When the party's over, you exhale in relief when you arrive back at Dieter’s house. “Your mother is far too kind.” You tell him, patting his hand before the carriage door opens. You take the footman’s hand to step out and you swiftly walk up the steps to the townhouse, greeting the butler with a soft smile.

“Good evening, ma’am.” He nearly says your name but you are soon to be the lady of the house.

Dieter shrugs out of his coat while the butler helps you out of yours. “She is, but she wants you to not get cold feet as well.” He snorts, rolling his eyes. “She’ll have more grandchildren on her mind now that she knows we are marrying.” Handing his coat to the butler, he turns towards the parlor for another drink. “Which she will be disappointed not to get, but that is a fight for another day. I need to invite some friends over…” he mutters to himself, feeling odd after the night spent beside you.

You watch him stalk towards the parlor without another glance in your direction, and you sigh, knowing that that is his dismissal. “Goodnight, Mr. Bravo.” You huff before you make your way upstairs to go to bed. Tomorrow is another day. One day closer to your marriage to the man downstairs who would never be yours. Not truly.

Sitting in his chair, his shirt unbuttoned and tie tossed aside, Dieter rubs his nose. The toot of coke is finally hitting his system and he feels his entire body start to relax. He is pent up. That’s what he tells himself as he snatches the bottle of scotch up and pours a healthy measure into the tumbler in front of him. That is why he wanted to go upstairs and strip that ball gown off you. Have you cry out his name while he buries his tongue in your virgin cunt. He grunts and reaches down to palm his cock while he takes a sip of the liquor. Maybe he would call over someone to suck his cock while he drinks whiskey. That sounds like a good way to get that idea out of his head.

****

You look at yourself in the mirror, a shaking breath escaping your lips as you admire the beautiful wedding gown you are wearing. You look like a different woman, you look like you fit into the society you’re about to be an official part of. The past two weeks have been a blur, full of planning and picking linens and choosing the food. It’s been insanity but Dieter kept you sane during the entire event. You smile as you think of him. You know he wants this to be an arrangement but every day you’ve spent in his company as his fiancée has endeared you to him. He’s zany but clever, selfish but considerate in other ways. You know he doesn’t want to be with you in the conventional manner but you haven’t been able to stop yourself from imagining a real marriage with him. It would be easy to love him, you can feel yourself falling for him and you can’t seem to stop yourself. Even when he goes to the club, you cry yourself to sleep knowing you’ll never be enough for him. However, you agreed to his terms and you will stick to them, not allowing him to see how your feelings have changed.

“Ready?” Meredith asks and you bite your lip, nodding.

“Yes.” You exhale shakily and she rubs your arm.

“Let’s get you married.”

It takes everything in him not to fidget. To pick at his cufflinks or adjust the already perfectly positioned bow tie. His suit is resplendent, perfected by the tailor and lovingly prepared by his man, making him look every bit the perfect groom for a bride. He’s nervous. As much as this is a farce, you will be his wife. His responsibility. He hates that he will be given that title as your lord when you have been the one caring for him for so long. The church is nearly empty, save for the bridal party, just the way he insisted and the minister clears his throat, making Dieter look up, his eyes widening and his mouth dropping open as the music starts and he catches sight of you.

You fluster at the look on Dieter's face, certain that he is just looking at you like that because you've never looked like this. Your legs shake a little as you make your way towards him, biting your lip as you step down the aisle. Your father was unable to leave the farm to walk you down the aisle - that was his excuse but you know he just didn't want to come to New York. You were sad but not disappointed, knowing it was unlikely that he'd leave Delaware. You are finally standing in front of Dieter. "Fancy seeing you here." You tease, trying to lighten the heavy weight on your chest that you are marrying a man you could easily love who will never return your feelings.

“S-small world.” Dieter manages, swallowing harshly as he lifts the veil that is over your face and tucks it behind you. “Wow.” He murmurs softly. “You are so beautiful.” He feels like he’s just seeing you for the first time. Even if he knows you are pretty, the thoughts about fucking you constant over the past two weeks. But right now you are taking his breath away and he swears that he’s never seen a woman more beautiful.

Your heart thumps at the awed look on his face. His dark eyes are soft as he looks at you in a way you’ve never seen before. “You look handsome too.” You murmur, unable to look away from him. He shaved and slicked his usually messy hair back. You've never seen him look so good. The minister clears his throat once more and you fluster, turning back so the ceremony can begin.

He can barely listen to the words as the minister starts his speech about marriage, too busy holding your hand and wondering if you are as nervous as he is. Squeezing your hand gently and glancing over at you every few moments to make sure that this is real, that he isn’t in some kind of drug fueled dream.

You are distracted by Dieter, barely paying attention to the vows as you hold his hand. When the minister asks if you take Dieter to be your husband, you just about manage to squeak out a “I do.” Dieter nods, repeating the response before you exchange rings. Sliding the gold band onto his finger, you remind yourself that this doesn’t make him yours. You belong to him, but he is his own man. He can do whatever he wants. You cannot. However, when he slides the ring onto your finger, you don’t feel suffocated and trapped. You feel peaceful, like this was always meant to be. The feeling confuses you and before you can ponder it anymore, the minister declares you husband and wife, telling Dieter he can kiss his bride.

Licking his lips, Dieter cups your cheeks, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours in a chaste kiss. Although, being him, he cannot help but sweep his tongue along the seam of your lips to make you gasp out, surprised that he had done that in front of the minister and his family.

He pulls away after a moment, taking your hand to guide you down the aisle, his family and friends cheering along with the staff who had attended since the reception is to be held at the Bravo’s mansion. You can’t believe you’re married, and to your boss. It’s insanity but it feels so damn right. You make your way outside of the church to several well wishers who throw rice over you and Dieter, making him grumble and you giggle. Once you’re in the carriage to his childhood home, you turn to look at him. “Regretting this yet?” You ask, noticing the distant look on his face.

“No.” Dieter shakes his head, looking over at you with a sigh. “It had to happen. Father would have insisted on some blushing debutante and I hate to imagine the incessant whining I would have to endure.” He was shaken by the kiss. As innocent as it was, it had made his stomach twist and he was trying to convince himself that it was just the anticipation of fucking you. “You know what to expect, right?” He asks, wondering if you know the mechanics of it all. After all, he believed you when you said you were a virgin. You are not a liar.

You swallow harshly, nodding as you turn to look out of the carriage before meeting his gaze. “Your mother…bless her soul, she told me everything…everything.” You emphasize. “I can see where you get your penchant for sexual exploration.” You chuckle, remembering the way she intensely described the sensation of oral sex. “I’m not a blushing debutante. I’ve read books. Erotica. I also know it won’t be good for me. I have no silly notion that we will be making love and not just fucking to ensure the marriage is consummated.” You are blunt but you need to compartmentalize these pesky feelings you’re having.

Dieter frowns at the way ‘just fucking’ sounds coming out of your mouth. He doesn’t like it. Shaking off that thought, he smirks at you. “Erotica, huh? Dirty thing.” He chuckles quietly and his eyes are dark with amusement and mischief. “I will have to make sure I make it really good to compare to the lovers in those books. I’m sure I’ve read all the ones you have. Did you touch yourself after reading them? Up in your little bed all by yourself, whimpering and trying not to moan?”

His words make your cunt clench, his voice low and deep as he leans closer. He continues to stare at you with those molten brown eyes, making you gulp. “I- yes.” You admit softly, trying to keep your voice steady. “I touched myself. Late at night when no one would hear an accidental moan.”

Dieter groans quietly, pleased that you admitted it. “Tonight, I want you to make sure everyone in the house hears your moans.” He hums cockily. Not because he wants to make sure everyone knows the marriage is consummated, but so that his reputation is intact. He won’t have it said that he did not fuck his own wife properly. “No shame, I want to hear every little cry and moan.”

You bite your lip, nodding and you try to ignore the sinking feeling that he just wants the house to know that he consummated the marriage. You catch yourself, reverting back to your protective shield of sarcasm. “Better make sure you do a good job then, Bravo.” You pat his knee playfully, resisting the urge to slide your hand up to his crotch.

He snorts and arches a brow at you. “A challenge?” He asks. “When you are fucked into the bed, worn out and nearly catatonic from pleasure, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

You smirk, leaning closer to kiss his freshly shaven jaw. “And if it is you who is worn out and nearly catatonic from pleasure? I might not have experienced sex before, dear husband, but I’ve read about it and a woman knows what to do simply from reading. Perhaps-” You lean closer to whisper in his ear, “it is you who should prepare.” Your teasing mood makes you nip his ear before you lean back, just in time for the carriage to pull-up outside of his parents’ mansion.

Hissing, Dieter has to adjust his half hard cock at your brazen words. It would be nice if he could believe it. To have a bold bride and not someone tearful and worried in the bedroom. He had been dreading that, but the way you talk, you might straddle his lap and sink down on his cock yourself, taking your own innocence. The door opens and when you are halfway out of the carriage, Dieter reaches out and pinches your ass.

You gasp, reaching behind you to swat his hand away before you giggle, taking his hand once you’re both on the sidewalk to let him guide you into the home where the well wishers will be gathered in one of the ballrooms, waiting for your entrance. “Now your acting skills really come into play.” You whisper playfully, knowing you’ll be “on stage” for the duration of the evening. You’re hoping to convince Dieter to make out like you’re desperate to consummate the marriage to secure an early departure.

“Do not worry.” Dieter pats your hand that is on his arm. “Mother procured enough champagne that everyone will be well sloshed soon and we can make our escape. Although I do want to make sure we eat first. Mother’s cook is amazing.”

Everyone is soon gathered in the reception, the champagne flowing and the food delicious. Once the food has been served and demolished, Dieter’s father stands up, clinking his champagne glass with his signet ring. Once everyone is quiet, he begins to speak. “First of all, I would like to thank everyone for attending this joyous occasion.” His voice says it’s anything but joyous for him. “Congratulations to my son and his new bride, may they be happy and blessed despite their differences.” He finishes the slightly awkward speech and then you know it’s Dieter’s turn to address the crowd.

Standing, he barely keeps from scoffing. “Thank you father, for that amazing vote of confidence.” Dieter intones sarcastically before he turns on a charming smile and glances around the room. “I want to thank everyone for being here, to witness the day that the rest of our lives begin.” He holds up his drink and turns to you, “Darling, you stole my breath today when you walked towards me in your wedding gown. May everyday make me just as breathless in your presence.” He says. “Our life will be full of adventures, and joy, love and happiness. Together.”

You almost believe it. Almost. But you know that Dieter is a talented actor, you’ve seen his rehearsals when he had his co-stars over for running lines that turned into something else less scripted. His gaze seems genuine but you know he’s just acting. You smile at him, kissing him softly on the lips when he leans down to you before he clinks his glass with your own while others echo his toast.

After cutting the cake and threatening Dieter with murder if he shoved any of it in your face, you are anxious to leave. Part of you is excited for the wedding night. To know if his words will translate into action in order to make you feel things you’ve never felt before. Another part of you is scared. Worried he won’t like what he sees. Another part of you, worries you’ll like it - love it even - and then you’ll be resigned to that one night and then a lifetime of celibacy while he seeks his pleasure with others.

“Are you ready to go?” He asks, leaning in to whisper in your ear. You offer him a nod, too anxious to speak and he quickly makes your excuses. Both of you leave the reception to cheers from the crowd while you make your way to the carriage.

Dieter waits until you are in the carriage before he pulls himself up inside, closing the door and settling himself beside you. “I know you are worried.” He has seen the slight tremble in your frame when you had left the house. “It will not be horrible.” He promises. “I will wear a condom. So we do not have to worry about getting you pregnant.”

You nod, thankful that he won’t be pushing you to have an heir. Childbirth is risky and you are glad to have a reprieve from that fear. You are quiet as the carriage heads back to his home, too busy thinking about the fact that tonight is the night you will lose your virginity. Something you have considered over the past two weeks but this is the moment. You can feel his eyes on you when the carriage pulls up to his home, and you take the footman’s hand when the door is opened.

Dieter knows that you are nervous, his hand on your back as he comes to stand beside you. “Do you want a drink in the parlor, or do you want to go upstairs and get ready?” He asks, unwilling to order you to do it. He wants you to be relaxed tonight and willing.

You bite your lip as you enter the townhouse, your gown gathered up as you stand in the foyer. “I’d like to take a drink upstairs while I get ready.” You give yourself a third option and he nods, shrugging off his jacket as the butler takes it for him.

“I’ll get you a brandy.” He walks into the parlor and comes out a few moments later with your drink.

“Thank you.” You lean in to peck his lips before you take the glass. “Come upstairs in twenty minutes.” You tell him, knowing it will take Cynthia a while to take the pins out of your hair. He nods and you make your way upstairs. Heart pounding as you sip your drink while Cynthia handles your hair.

Once the brandy is gone and Cynthia has exited the bedroom with a flustered “good luck,” you wait for Dieter to come and find you. The lace feeling a little itchy but you ignore it, wanting him to be happy with his wife even if you will only be together in the sexual sense tonight.

Dieter had gone to his own bathroom to change after two belts of the brandy to calm his own nerves. He has no idea why he is nervous, other than this was his wife rather than his lover. Stripping out of the vest and shirt to leave him in just his trouser and bare feet. Thinking that the less clothes he shows up in, the better. Grabbing one of the prophylactics he has from its case, he shoves it in his pocket and makes his way to the door that connects his suite with yours. Allowing the two of you to move between bedrooms without going into the hall. He taps on the door. “May I come in?”

“Yes.” You clear your throat, determined to not sound nervous despite your heart hammering in your chest. When he enters the room shirtless, your breath catches in your throat and you want to reach out and run your palms down his chest. You pray he likes what he sees - the lacy nightgown that the sales associate had picked out when you went shopping. The white lace displaying your soon-to-be over status as a virgin.

Dieter bites his lips, dragging his eyes up and down your form. The nightgown is perfectly virginal, beautiful and he wants it off of you. Wants to see your body before he touches you, but you are not one of his lovers, you are his wife. His tongue traces along his bottom lip as his eyes meet yours. “Your books, did you ever read about a man licking a woman’s cunt?” He asks, mouth watering at the prospect. “Sucking on her tits, and biting on them?”

Your body feels like it’s on fire at the look in his dark eyes. The air is heavy and you keep your eyes on his. “Some of them…my favorite ones.” You admit, not backing down as you let the strap of your gown fall off of your shoulder, exposing more skin. “You can take it off. If you want.” You tell him, now wanting to feel his hands on your skin. You need it more than you need oxygen right this moment.

Dieter exhales loudly, striding over to you to grab the hips of your gown. He freezes for a moment, looking into your eyes seriously. “If there is something you don’t like, you tell me.” He orders you. “I despise when someone endures my touch. If you want it to stop, you say the word. I will never force it.” He’s heard too many stories of husband’s ignoring their wife’s crying as they fuck, he will never be one of those men.

“Since when have I ever let you do anything I don’t like?” You trade breathlessly but he offers you a rare, serious look. “I will tell you.” You promise, looking into those stupidly pretty eyes. His fingers slowly work the gown up your legs until he grips the majority of it in his hands. Slowly, too slowly, he lifts it up and over your head, exposing your body to the cool air of the room and his heated gaze.

You are gorgeous, even more than he had imagined over the past two weeks. He groans, watching your nipples tighten in the air and he doesn’t hesitate. Ducking his head down and eagerly attaching his lips to one to start suckling.

You gasp, reaching down to tangle your fingers in his hair, messing up the slick look. “Oh, oh Dieter.” You whimper, arching your back into his mouth. His hands grip your back and you feel your stomach twist with arousal.

He groans and sucks, working the tip into a hardened bud then bites down on it hard enough to make you gasp, your fingers tugging on his hair. Letting off to lave it with his tongue, he smirks as he looks up at you and winks, sucking the nipple back into his mouth again to continue to worry it with his teeth. One hand sliding down to your ass to give it a rough squeeze.

You feel like he’s everywhere. His hot mouth on your chest, his hands on your breast and ass. It’s overwhelming and yet it’s not enough. Your cunt practically drips - something you’ve never experienced before - from his touch and you need more from him. You also want to touch him. You grip his upper arms, caressing the skin before sliding your hands down his back. “Dieter, please. I need - I need more.”

He groans, pulling off your tit with a pop, loving that you are already telling him what you need. Certainly not a wallflower. Good, he hates boring people in bed. His hand slides down your stomach and he cups the curls over your cunt, smirking when he feels the slickness. “I’m going to lay you down and bury my face right here.” He promises, tapping a finger against your clit.

His fingers are so much thicker than your own. When he taps your clit, your knees buckle and you lean against him for support. Chuckling, he grabs the back of your thighs, grunting as he lifts you to deposit you on the bed. You lay there, naked and waiting for him as he slides his hands from your ankles to your thighs, spreading them wide so he can see your cunt for the first time. Right before he dives in.

You cry out, unable to believe how good this feels. Way better than your feeble fingers rubbing your clit. You fumble to sit up on your elbows watching Dieter's now unruly curls as he sucks on your clit. "Oh God." You pant, tilting your head back and you just let him touch you. It's unlike anything you've ever felt before.

He turns to lapping at your cunt, chuckling as your body relaxes and your legs spread wider, falling open around his shoulders. “Good, isn’t it?” He coos, sliding his tongue up and down your slit and circling the small hole that he was going to be filling soon.

You shudder in pleasure, your mind blank as you focus on his tongue, on his words, on his entire being. It's intoxicating. "So - so good." You pant, closing your eyes. "Please Dieter. I need - I don't know what I need but I need something." You whine breathily.

He knows what you need. His fingers replace his tongue, circling your entrance before one thick finger slides inside you. He doesn’t want you to hate fucking, wants you to enjoy this. Even if he has no intention of staying faithful. He eases inside your walls and groans before he flicks his tongue over your clit when your walls squeeze him.

You moan, unable to stop the sound escaping your lips. “Oh shit.” You curse, body practically shaking as he thrusts his finger in and out of you while flicking his tongue over your clit. “Yes! Yes!” You sob, so close to the edge. He smirks against your slick flesh before sucking on the bundle of nerves, sending you over the edge with a cry of his name.

Dieter shudders at the pretty sound of you falling apart. Groaning into your cunt and working you through it with his hand and his tongue. Wanting to make sure plenty of the arousal pouring out of you eased his entry into your body. Only when he hears your small whine does he pull away, smug and honestly stunned at how sexy that was.

You slump onto the bed, chest heaving as you stare at the ceiling, unable to believe that you just felt pleasure like that. Your hands are shaking a little as you reach out to run your fingers through his locks. “Thank you” you sigh, closing your eyes as you prepare yourself for the next step. You’ve heard horror stories of the pain but you’ve never heard of the pleasure you just felt. Only finding that in the sordid erotica that you snuck into your room.

“You’re welcome.” Dieter slides off the bed and stands up, unbuttoning his trousers and pushing them down along with his drawers. His hard cock bounces and he reaches into the pocket of the trousers for the condom before he tosses them down. “Now comes the really fun part.” He chuckles as he unrolls the protection and slides it over his length. “The church looks down on preventing pregnancy with these, but I don’t care what they think.” He tells you. “But it will keep you safe.”

You gulp, eyeing his cock. The first one you’ve ever seen. “Goodness.” You breathe out, making him chuckle as he kneels on the bed.

“Are you ready?” He asks, making you inhale deeply to prepare yourself for the pain.

“Ye- yes.” You nod, knowing this will be the only time you’ll have to endure this. You won’t have to have sex with your husband again and you’re not sure if you’re sad or relived about that. “I’m ready.” You tell him, looking into his dark eyes.

He finds himself wanting to reassure you, to chase the slight tinge of fear from your pretty eyes. Leaning down, he kisses you. Keeping it slow at first before he feels you relax and slides his tongue along the seam of your lips like he did in front of the minister and smirking slightly when you open up to let him inside. Distracting you while he lowers his body to yours and settles between your thighs.

You moan into his mouth, loving how he possesses your tongue, until you feel him pushing into you. “Relax.” He orders into your mouth, kissing along your jaw as he slowly works his cock inside of you. You try to relax, letting him slowly stretch you out and you prepare yourself for the pain.

When he is halfway inside you, he stops moving. Looking down at you and reaching up to stroke the side of your face. “Relax.” He orders again. “I will make sure you aren’t ripped in two.” He jokes, pressing his lips to yours again. “I’ve done this a lot. I’ll make sure it’s good for you. But you stop me if it’s not.”

"Okay." You breathe against his lips, reaching for his hand for some assurance, and he squeezes. "Just exhale for me." He orders, making you exhale and when you do, he thrusts into you the rest of the way, breaking your maidenhead.

"Oh shit." You choke, trying to ignore the flash of pain.

"I'm sorry." He kisses along your jaw, making you whimper as you calm your racing heart. He stays still, knowing you need some time to adjust. He knows the feeling first hand. Having needed a moment himself when he was taking a man. Throbbing inside you, he murmurs praises into your skin and tries to soothe you as your walls flutter around him, virgin no more.

You finally relax around him, sinking into the soft mattress below with a whimper when the pain turns into something akin to pleasure. “You can move.” You tell him, stroking his back as he hovers over you.

The pain ebbs away, replaced by the pleasure you’ve read about. Your body relaxes and you lift your thighs onto his hips, sending him deeper inside of you. “Oh God.” You pant, “it’s - no wonder you want to fuck anything with a pulse.” You joke, trying to ignore the fact that your heart is pounding.

Chuckling, he ducks his head down and nips at your throat while he gives another smaller thrusts. “Now you see.” He pants, sliding a hand down to grip one of your thighs, lifting it high, starting to build up a steady pace. He doesn’t want to go too rough too fast with you, something that should concern him since he wouldn’t be opposed to that with another lover. But you are still so very pure.

You gasp when he hits something deep inside of you, making your walls flutter around him. Noticing his smug chuckle, you roll your eyes. “You don’t need to be so cocky.” You realize your phrasing when he thrusts deep again, adding in a smirk. “Shut up.” You slap his chest even though he doesn’t say anything. “Faster. I want you to - to fuck me.” You plead, not wanting lovemaking when you know you’ll never have him like that. You want him to wreck you physically to preserve your heart.

The fact that you are talking so filthy is incredibly sexy to Dieter. Making him moan your name and lean back. Pushing away so he can get better leverage for thrusting. “Fuck.” He hisses, ramping up the pace so that his hips slap against your thighs. “You want it rougher? Want me to make you cream all over my cock and scream my name?”

Your mouth falls open at the new speed he’s thrusting inside of you. “Yes! Yes! Oh - oh fuck.” You writhe beneath him, closing your eyes as you give yourself over to the sensations building inside of you. So intense and unlike anything you’ve ever known. Part of you never wants this to end. The other part of you wants this over with so you don’t miss it. You can’t miss what you never had. Reaching down, you start to rub your clit, driven by instinct as your orgasm builds within you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Dieter can’t believe that you are rubbing your clit, batting your hand away so he can do it himself. “Fucking dirty.” He moans happily, lost in the tight sensation of your cunt. “Pinch your nipples baby, it will feel so good.” He orders, driving his hips forward over and over again to fill you up.

You follow his order, overwhelmed with all of the sensations as you reach up to pinch your nipples. “Oh God Dieter. Just like that.” You whine, rocking your hips up into his touch. You’re so close. Just a few more thrusts of his - “oh fuck.” You pant, a moan of his name escaping your lips as you clamp down on his cock.

You are so fucking tight. Dieter clenches his teeth together and has to put more power into his thrusts to keep rocking into you. Feeling the way your cunt grips his cock like he’s never felt before. It’s perfect. You’re perfect.

You have never felt anything like this. You feel like you’re in heaven. Your eyes flutter closed and Dieter works you through it, making your chest heave as you try to catch your breath.

Now he’s focused on his own pleasure. Grunting and rocking into you harder as he chases his release. Overwhelmed by how good you feel, he gives five or six more thrusts before he is burying his cock deep, groaning out your name while he fills the condom with his cum.

You watch him when he cums, his groan of your name has you moaning softly and part of you wishes you could feel him cum inside of you. You quickly push that aside, relaxing beneath him as you allow yourself to relish this moment. The one and only time you’ll have intimacy with your husband.

“Holy shit.” Dieter pants. “Holy shit.” Closing his eyes for a moment, he tries to catch his breath while his softening cock still throbs inside you. “That was-“ he realizes that he needs to ask you that, opening his eyes and gripping the base of the condom as he gently pulls out of you. “How was it?” He asks, flopping down beside you on the bed.

You shift to look at him, sitting up on your elbow. “It was…beyond anything I expected. I didn’t - I thought I would be in pain the entire time. That’s what your mother told me.” You reveal, biting your lip and you know he has fulfilled his duty. You know you shouldn’t let yourself believe that he wants anything beyond this night.

“My father must have been shit at fucking.” He scoffs and shakes his head, a little disturbed at the mental image. “Then if you are agreeable, maybe this can happen again sometime.” He offers nonchalantly like he isn’t already imagining taking you again.

You shift to sit up, your body aching a little and you look back at him. “I suppose I shall leave that up to you. My bed shall remain empty until you decide to seek pleasure from your wife. Until then, I’ll let you continue your escapades.” You try to not sound bitter about it, knowing you’ll never be enough for him. You stand up and make your way over to the wash bowl, cleaning yourself up before you shrug on your dressing gown.

Dieter frowns, having expected a bit more enthusiasm in your response. He huffs as he pulls the condom off to clean and stands. “Well… I will let you rest.” He offers as he pulls his trousers up but leaves them unbuttoned for his journey back to his room. “Goodnight, wife.”

You watch him go without saying anything, wishing he had stayed, patting the bed for you to come back to him and holding you as you fall asleep. Shaking your head, you remind yourself that this is an arrangement, just an arrangement. Then why do you immediately dream of him when you close your eyes?

****

Dieter hisses, closing his eyes as he tries to focus on the mouth around his cock. “Fuck yes.” He groans, clenching his stomach to try to help get him harder.

It’s been a week. One week married to you and he’s going insane. Unable to come to the brothel before tonight due to the fact it would look bad if he were spotted out and about when he’s supposed to be with you, he’s been miserable. Thinking about you, wanting you again. He tries to chalk it up to just needing to get laid, but right now, with Elise’s mouth around his cock, he’s as soft as he had been when she pulled him out of his trousers.

You sigh, staring into the mirror as you get ready for bed. You know Dieter went to the brothel. He’s been avoiding you all week, holed up in his study rehearsing his lines and you can hear him late at night muttering to himself in his bedroom. You feel so lonely despite spending your days getting introduced to the ladies of society. Functions and afternoon teas…it’s honestly exhausting. You stare at yourself for a moment, wondering if you made the right decision. You haven’t had time to write, too busy with Dieter’s mother and sister in law. You’re resigned to a life of boring small talk and frilly dresses.

“What’s the matter, baby?” Elise coos, looking up at him in confusion as she pulls off cock and starts stroking him. “You never have this issue.”

Dieter huffs and shakes his head, pulling his hips back to make her let go of his cock so he can do it himself. “Fuck. I don’t know.” He knows, the problem is that she’s not you. He wants his wife.

You should go to bed, it’s late, but you can’t. Your mind is too preoccupied with thoughts of Dieter. You feel like you’ve both made progress and gone backwards. At breakfast, you laugh at the gossip that’s circulating in the daily papers, guessing who is fucking who and discussing the banal events you both have to endure until he is distracted by his script for his latest role.

The evenings you have dinner in silence. The atmosphere is heavy as the cutlery scraps against the china plates. You wonder what happens to make him go silent like that. Part of you wants him to stay after dinner, to talk to you about his day and let you help him with his lines. However, as soon as his knife and fork go down, he’s leaving. Making some excuse but you know where he’s going…to the brothel. It hurts that you aren’t good enough. Every night you go to bed, trying to stop yourself from wanting him when you knew the arrangement from the get go. Tonight is no different.

You scream when your bedroom door swings open, Dieter stalking in and you stand up from your vanity, confused as he practically growls at you. “What’s wrong?” You ask.

“What’s wrong? You. Are. Intolerable.” He hisses, grabbing your upper arms before he surges forward to press his lips to yours. You’re confused but melt into the kiss, leaning against his chest as you let his tongue slide into your mouth.

Dieter isn’t patient or gentle. He’s demanding, harshly stroking your tongue with his and relishing the bite of your teeth against his lips. Letting go of your arms to wrap them around your body and pull you against him tight. His cock immediately responds, hardening instantly to press against his trousers and your stomach while he groans into your mouth.

He groans and pulls away to sweep your nightgown up and over your body. Tossing it aside and ripping his jacket off and throwing it down beside it. “Insufferable.” He growls leaning down and biting your neck before he licks the mark. He rips off a few of his shirt buttons, sending them clattering to the floor around you in his haste. He doesn’t pay attention, too busy trying to get undressed to get to you.

You lay down on the bed, watching him curse as he kicks off his trousers along with his undergarments, his hard cock bouncing and you are lost for words as he kneels on the bed to hover over you. “Dieter. I don’t understand.” You say, confusion is clear on your face.

“You never will.” He says dramatically, “just - fuck. You’re fucking excruciating.” He hisses, making you scoff in disbelief.

“Me? You’re the insufferable one.”

Dieter huffs, unable to wait too long, so instead of his tongue, you get his fingers. “You are driving me to madness.” He accuses you as he spits on his fingers and pushes them into your cunt.

You cry out as his thick fingers stretch you out. As much pleasure as you feel, you feel angry at him. Blaming you for whatever he’s going through when you’ve done nothing but be a good little wife, doing what he wanted you to do. You narrow your eyes at him even as you start to wet his fingers with your arousal. “Driving you - you to madness? You are the - the most aggravating man I’ve ever known.” You mean it, but in a different way than he’d expect. You buck up into his hand when his thumb presses against your clit.

He scoffs, rolling his eyes at you. “Yes I’m horrible, a veritable monster.” He keeps his fingers curling up inside of you and pressing deep, groaning when he feels your cunt start to weep for him. “Make you my wife, give you everything you could ever want.” He feels a spurt of pre-cum dribble out of the tip when your walls clench down around him. “While you haunt me.”

You moan when his fingers hit something incredible. “Give me everything-? You have no idea. You don’t - Lord above. You are odious. A selfish man. No wonder you didn’t have a wife until you conned me into marrying you.” Your words are venom, fuelled by frustration, but your cunt drips around his fingers.

He huffs, leaning down and biting one of your breasts before he laps at your nipple. “Didn’t want a wife.” He reminds you. “I was happy without one.” He nips your skin again. “Until I married you.”

You shake your head, thinking he means that he is unhappy. “Well, I’m sorry I ruined your happiness.” You spit, grabbing him to pull him towards you. He falls on top of you, his fingers pulled out of your cunt, and you push on his chest, wanting him to lay down.

Tonight, you’re going to take control. You’re sick of him messing with you, using you when he wants something. Tonight, you’re going to use him. He gets the message, laying on his back and you quickly straddle him. Reaching underneath you, you grip his cock, positioning him at your entrance before you sink down onto his length.

His moan is loud, filthy as you take him. Tossing his head back in pleasure at the tight grip you have on him. “Fuck- oh fuck, that is what I’m talking about.” His eyes close and his fingers fly to your hips, not worrying about the fact that he’s not wearing a condom. He’s not thinking about anything but the way you feel around him. This is what he’s craved and he hates it, but he needs it. It’s also making him even hotter that you took control. Thrusting up deeper into you, he lets out a choked moan. “Fuck, move.” He begs you, needing to see you bounce on his cock.

You act on instinct, rocking your hips tentatively while looking down at his blissed out face. You grind down and he hisses, fingers digging into your hips even more. “You’re - you’re loathsome.” You pant, starting to lift up onto his cock now that you’ve gotten into a rhythm. Leaning forward to get a better angle as you rock your hips, his thick cock hitting deep. You reach for his hands on your hips, bringing them above his head. You know he could break your hold but you hover over him, rocking back onto his cock as your chest presses against his.

He moans in agreement, he is loathsome. One week married to you, one night between your thighs and he can’t even get hard for someone else. Instead of answering, he plants his feet on the bed and thrusts up, bouncing you on his cock and loving the way that your breasts rub against his chest. He doesn’t break the hold you have on him, enjoying the way you are using him. He never expected you to take charge and it’s intoxicating.

“Fuck.” You curse, nails digging into the back of his hands and you grind back onto him as he thrusts up into you. Your head hovering over his, you meet his dark gaze and surge forward to press your lips to his. You feel in control and out of control at the same time. Unable to progress the feelings surging through you. You want him. Lord, you want him, but he doesn’t want you. You are an accessory, something to play with when he’s bored. Something to show off. It kills you but you slide your tongue into his mouth, trying to silence your thoughts and focus on the pleasure.

Dieter whines into your mouth, his tongue eagerly meeting yours and curling around it. He loves this, God, he loves this. You are being so aggressive with him and while he normally is the one in control with a woman, he loves watching you use him. His virginal wife riding his cock like a pro at the brothel.

You grind back onto him, your walls fluttering around the cock that is surging in and out of you as you try to hold your own. “Shit. I - it feels so good.” You pant against his chin, his lips kissing your nose and that makes your heart clench. “Dieter.” You whine, the coarse hair at the base of his cock rubbing your clit in his angle and you are so close. “I - oh God.” You pant, walls fluttering before they clamp down on him. Soaking him with your cum as you cry out against his jaw.

It feels so much better without the condom. Still that barrier of protection not being there doesn’t register with him, too caught up in the pleasure. “God yes.” He moans, eyes rolling back at how tight you get, your cum dripping down into his pubic hair and soaking it before it drips down to his balls. “Fuck, make me cum, I’m so close.” He begs.

All you can think about is making him cum. Rocking back onto him, your thighs shake with the effort and your cunt throbs in the aftermath of your orgasm, but you power through, wanting to watch him fall apart because of you. With a sudden surge of energy, you rock onto him, ass slapping his thighs as you take him deep within you. “Cum for me, darling.” You murmur, biting down on his jaw.

Whimpering, Dieter falls over the edge. You’ve taken your hands away from his, letting them go so he grabs onto your hip, thrusting up and pushing his cock just as deep as he can get as he begins to spill inside you. Long, pulsing hot ropes of cum paint your walls while he pants out your name in gasping bliss.

You collapse into his chest, letting him ride out his high and you sigh in pleasure. Your body feels tingly and you are in a haze of bliss, not yet thinking of the consequences of what just happened. His body relaxes beneath you, cock still buried deep as it softens, and you rest your head on his shoulder, breathing him in.

Now he is relaxed, his arms sliding around you as the orgasm fogs his brain and he murmurs soft sounds, turning his head to kiss your forehead and stroke your sweaty back. “God, I- can’t believe you rode me like that.” He gives a small chuckle, twitching inside you as he thinks about it.

You fluster, suddenly embarrassed at your actions, the way you took control of him. You giggle, “I don’t know where it came from. I - I have never - it was pure instinct.” You confess, keeping your face buried in his shoulder so you don’t have to look at him.

“I didn’t mind it.” He hums, his hand still stroking your back. “All I could think of was your cunt around my cock and not how I should be furious at you for what you’ve done.”

You frown, sitting up to look at him, his cock falling from your body as his seed begins to drip onto his crotch. “What have I done?” You inquire, feeling defensive. “I assure you I have done nothing to offend you. I have performed my wifely duties, acted like a good socialite so no one gets suspicious. Pray tell what it is that has offended you so?”

Dieter huffs, not meaning to have said that out loud. He narrows his eyes to cover up his embarrassment and gestures to your gorgeous body still sitting on him. “This- you- you’ve entranced me or something.” He grumbles. “One time between your thighs and my cock shrivels up for anyones but you.” He pouts like it’s the worst thing in the world, which it is to a man who had not been interested in monogamy.

You can’t help but feel offended. He’s blaming you for his attraction to you. His wife. You shuffle off of him, standing up on shaky legs. “I sincerely apologize sir for my lack of consideration when it comes to your dislike of monogamy. I was not there in your brothel dictating who your prick should and should not get hard for. Perhaps we should not indulge in a night like tonight again, lest it continue your…issue. You will be able to resume fucking whoever you want. Now, I am going to clean up. I wish to be alone now.” You try not to choke out the last words as you open the door to make your way to the bathroom. The man infuriates you, mocks you with his intermittent attraction to you before he goes to find pleasure in others. You won’t allow him in your body again, you can’t. Your heart can’t take it.

Dieter frowns, wondering what the hell just happened. He admitted that he was unable to sleep with anyone else and you are mad at him about it? Most wives would be thrilled. Huffing in anger, he climbs out of your bed and scowls as he grabs his clothes to storm back to his own suite, slamming the door in a fit. Cursing himself for choosing a wife that confounds him.

You sit in silence at the breakfast table, your toast now cold as your head hurts. You barely slept last night. Replaying what happened between you and Dieter over and over again. He blamed you for his lack of desire for his whores. It angers you that he blames you. How can you possibly control his libido? He barely has any desire for you. Last night was a fluke. A way to work out the frustration between both of you after a week of politeness and faux consideration. He drives you mad with his rambling and constant snorting of cocaine. The man has far too many habits that aren’t marriage friendly but you agreed to put up with them all.

You had agreed to marry him to allow yourself opportunities that you have failed to explore during the beginning of your married life. No longer will you make that mistake. You plan to invite a tutor over to review your work, someone you can pay to tell you if your writing is worth continuing. Dieter grunts as he enters the dining room, looking as bad as you do with dark circles under his eyes. You don’t say good morning, not wanting to ruffle him. You’ll be the wife he wanted. Silent and there for display purposes only.

Sitting down, Dieter reaches for the coffee that had been immediately set at his elbow. He grunts his thanks and takes a blissful sip. After he had left you, he had gone down to his study and gotten high again, upset that his wife had rejected his admission of faithfulness and seemingly wanted to leave him twisting in the wind. He can’t get hard for anyone else and the one person who makes him hard just sitting in her morning dress, has him straining at his breeches even now.

****

“Welcome Mr. Jones.” You greet the tutor you were recommended by some of the ladies at tea. They hired him for literature studies and that’s what you hired him for without telling him the real reason. Now that he is in the parlor, you realize that maybe the ladies didn’t hire him for lessons at all. He’s handsome, a little older than you and his sparkling green eyes are unmissable.

“Thank you Mrs. Bravo.” He responds softly, making you feel at ease.

You order tea and are soon seated at the table, your papers in front of you. “I fear I brought you here under false pretenses. I do not require literature studies. I would like you to read my novel. I have a mere four chapters but want to get your thoughts on it to see if it is worth pursuing.”

Mr. Jones looks at you then at the papers in surprise. He rarely knows of any society lady who spends her time writing. They don’t even pen their own letters, preferring to have someone else do it. “I- this is unexpected. Do you - you wish for me to review your work so far?” He asks, trying to gather his own thoughts.

“Yes. I’d like that very much.” You tell him, worrying your lower lip as you think he won’t accept.

“Very well. Let us dive in. Tell me about your novel, Mrs. Bravo.” He orders, making you grin and tell him to call you by your first name. “Then call him Caleb.” He insists and you nod, smiling at the fact that you are finally making progress.

Dieter enters the townhouse, the practice from the play had gone well, but still he was dissatisfied. One of the new actresses had very blatantly hit on him, having heard of his reputation and wanting to have the experience. She had done nothing for him. She was beautiful, he could admit, but she hadn’t even made his cock twitch, even when her breasts were in his face. The butler greets him, taking his coat. “My lady is in the drawing room with her literature tutor, Mr. Jones.”

Dieter’s brows shoot up, this being the first that he has heard of this. “Thank you. Bring another tea cup in for me, will you?” He asks, turning and heading towards the room where his willful wife is entertaining.

You laugh at Mr. Jones, enjoying his story about the time he was tutoring Mrs. Jefferson - an older lady who can barely tell you what time of day it is due to her daily indulgences in sherry. "Goodness...and you got paid for that?" You chuckle just as Dieter enters the room. You stiffen a little, it's been a week since the night you were together. He has avoided you like the plague, spending all of his time at the theater with his fellow actors. You know you shouldn't feel hurt - that was the arrangement - but you miss him. You never imagined you'd say that. Caleb stands up when Dieter enters the room.

Dieter strides up to the table, nodding to the man who had stood but walks over to your chair and leans down to drop a kiss on your cheek. It’s childish, but he wants to make sure this man knows you are his wife. “I am not interrupting, am I?” He asks, knowing that he is and not caring a bit.

You put a stiff smile on your face as he sits down beside you. “Of course not dearest. Cal- Mr. Jones and I were going over the first few chapters of the novel I am writing. He has been a great help already in helping me with my plot line and grammar.” You inform Dieter, voice a little clipped.

“Fantastic.” He didn’t miss the small mistake, the beginning of the man’s Christian name and it irks him. “My wife loves her hobbies and I want her to indulge.” He tells Mr. Jones with a polite smile. The tension in the room is thick but the maid soon brings his tea cup so he can join you, settling in for the duration of the visit.

“Then we shall make sure she indulges.” Caleb responds to your husband with a smile just as polite even if his words step over the line.

You clear your throat, picking up a piece of paper you scribbled on to hand it to Dieter. “We made several edits. Would you mind reading to see what you think? It would be helpful to have another opinion.” You try to involve him, wanting this tension to dispel.

Dieter takes the paper and looks over at Mr. Jones and feels a little victorious as he looks back down to start to read. His brow shoots up, impressed by how thought out this is, amazed that you have come up with a plot that is both intriguing and entertaining. “This is really pleasing.” He admits after a moment, eyes finding yours. “I would read this.”

You bite your bottom lip, trying to smother your smile at his praise. Taking the piece of paper from his hand and his fingers brush yours. “Thank you. There’s a long way to go.” You reply, a little bashful before you turn to look at Caleb. “I shall be hiring you for several more sessions. I want to ensure that there are no plot holes.” You tell Mr. Jones, knowing that discussing the book with him will assist you in your writing.

Dieter wants to argue that you should discuss the book with him, but he says nothing. Wired by the innocent touch of your hands has him feeling jittery as he brings his cup up to his lips to cover the turmoil he is going through. He has never been jealous of lovers, but yet he is jealous of you spending time with this Mr. Jones. He is far too handsome for Dieter’s piece of mind.

You finish your tea and bid goodbye to Mr. Jones, arranging to see him in a few days after you’ve edited the chapter. “I think he will be of great help, don’t you think?” You ask Dieter once the man has left. He doesn’t say anything, just hums. “It will be nice to finally have time to write my novel. Those silly debutante meetings have me running around discussing ribbons and silk.” You roll your eyes, regretting getting tied up with the committee. What do you know about debutantes? Apparently, it’s a role for a newly married woman. That’s what Sally Harris told you at least. “I best leave you to…whatever it is that you do. Good afternoon Dieter.” You say once you’ve gathered your papers, making your way back to your room.

Unhappy with the way that went, Dieter locks himself in his study for the rest of the day, not even joining you at dinner. This need he has for you is getting ridiculous and once the household has gone to bed, he finds himself outside the door that leads to your chambers, tapping on it like a puppy begging to be let inside out of the rain….. You don’t answer.

A few weeks pass by, Mr. Jones drops by every few days to assist with your writing and that’s what you find yourself doing at night until the quill is dropping from your hand and your fingers ache. You and Dieter practically lead separate lives. Barely meeting up to have dinner and sometimes you have to go to events to make an appearance, that’s when you spend most of your time with the ladies of the city while Dieter does God knows what. He wanted a wife, a figure in his life for these kinds of events. Nothing more. Despite the fact that the man haunts your dreams, you tell yourself that the time you had sex mean nothing to him.

Dieter groans, looking over at the door between your rooms. He’s checked it again, only to find it locked. Flopping down into a chair like a petulant teenager as he pouts about being locked out of his wife’s room. He’s gone back to the brothel, only to end up embarrassed and unsatisfied. Even getting fucked by Noah hadn’t made his cock stiffen, telling him that he was truly doomed as he left the establishment for the last time. Taking to just jerking off thinking about you, just steps away, but unable to touch you by your own declaration.

You sigh when you hear him rattle the door again. You’ve locked him out, unable to handle another night in his arms without truly being his. That damn man. He has these moments that make you believe he truly wants you. Like when he gets that soft look in his eyes after you share a new segment of your chapter with him. Or when he catches your handkerchief after you drop it. All of those small gestures make you fall for a man you can never have. That’s why you keep yourself locked away from him. Just like he wanted it. With a sigh, you decide you can’t sleep and make your way down to the kitchen to warm up some milk. Maybe that will help you rid yourself of thoughts of Dieter.

Dieter huffs, pulling himself away from the door and leaves his room. Intent on heading down to his study to work on the lines for the play. Something felt off about them but he couldn’t put his finger on what. They were delivered poorly every rehearsal and he knows that if he just found the right way to rephrase them, it would work.

You relax, taking a sip of the warm milk you just heated up as you sit on the kitchen counter. You know you shouldn’t be down here, probably should’ve told one of the cooks to do it for you, but you refuse to be like those demanding wives. You didn’t grow up in society and you refuse to have someone do something you could easily do yourself. There’s footsteps and you worry that you’ve woken someone up until you see Dieter walk into the kitchen. “I’m surprised you know where the kitchen is.” You make your presence known.

Jumping slightly, Dieter exhales when he sees you sitting at the counter with a cup. “I even know how to open the ice box.” He quips, sending you a small smirk. “I know it’s surprising. A Bravo knowing how to get his own milk.”

“Wow.” You tease, “your father would be having a heart attack. His son? Fending for himself? Perish the thought.” You snort and take another sip of your milk. “No coke down here I’m afraid.” You tell him, wondering what he is looking for. Unless he is trying to find the chocolate cook hides for her desserts.

“Damn.” He snaps his fingers in disappointment and then moves over to the counter. Opening a cock and peering inside. “I know there are cookies around here.” He mutters to himself and slides it back into place and reaches for another.

You point to the jar on the side where you know the cookies are kept. He eagerly rushes over, opening it and bringing the jar over to you before he sits down on the counter beside you, offering you a cookie. “Thank you.” You murmur, taking a cookie that pairs well with your milk.

Munching happily on the cookie, Dieter watches you. Admiring the way that even in your nightgown and robe, you look elegant. “Do you dip your cookie in milk or drink it on the side?” He asks, tilting his head to the side.

You smirk as you dip the cookie in the milk. “I like how it instantly brings me back to my childhood. I miss it sometimes, the innocence. When my mother…” You trail off, voice cracking a little, “my mother would make cookies for us around the holidays when we would have sugar.” You reveal, a soft smile on your face when you think about your mother.

Dieter watches you, thinking you look angelic as you think about your childhood memories. “This Christmas, we will have to have Cook make your cookies.” He hums, wanting you to have something to look forward to. “Maybe we can hand them out to kids and have them enjoy your memory of your mother.”

You nod, feeling a little sad that you aren’t going to be able to make them for your own children one day, even though it wasn’t part of your plan. “I’d like that. Thank you.” You tell him softly, wondering why, under the blanket of night, he is being so kind to you. “Why did you come down here?” You ask, turning to look at him after you set your mug down.

Sighing, he swallows his bite of cookie and looks at it, as if contemplating the sweet. “My play - the lines feel forced and I need to make sure they flow.” He explains. “I am going to work on them, see if I can rewrite them to make it fit the scene.”

You frown, “do you want me to help? I know I’m not an actor but I can help you find the right voice if you want? I am a writer after all.” You tease, gently nudging him.

Latching onto the idea, if just to spend a little more time with you, he nods quickly. “I would appreciate it.” He tells you quickly. “You will see what I mean by the lines don’t feel right when you read it.”

You shift to slide off of the counter, “let’s go to your study and go over your script.” You tell him. Quickly washing up your mug, you turn towards him and offer him a soft smile.

It’s strange, this need to seek time with you. Feeling almost bashful is foreign for him, but his hands clench and then he wipes them on his trousers nervously as he leads you to his study. You’ve spent more time here than he had before you got married, but now, it seems as though it’s become his space. “The pages are here.” He rushes forward to collect them and hand them to you. “I’ve circled the areas I just hate.”

You hum, reading through the sections he circled before you snort in amusement. “The reason why you are having trouble is because these sections all talk about love. Which is something you’ve notoriously struggled with to this day. You just have to think about something you like a lot. Not even necessarily love. Just like and imagine that when you say these lines. It should help you with the emotion.” You hand it back to him. “Do you want him to read the other lines so you can try it out? I’m not an actor but I can attempt to help.”

Dieter scoffs, slightly insulted by your view on him. He’s loved people before. You make him sound like he is just a wretch. He decides to take your advice though, setting the papers down and taking a breath. He closes his eyes and when they open, they are filled with hazy adoration. “My sweet, my purpose for waking, please do not send me away.” He begs, stepping towards you and reaching for your hand. “I do not think I could bear another rejection on my tattered heart.”

You stare at the paper, swallowing down the lump in your throat. “I cannot endure your madness anymore. By morn you love me, by night you loathe my very presence. I cannot tolerate such back and forth. You need to go and decide what you want. If you return and decide it is I who you love, then my heart is yours. If you do not return, I shall have my answer.”

Dieter shakes his head. “It is not a matter of love.” He clears his throat and swallows, shooting you a nervous look. “It is a matter of being enough. My love will not put food in your belly or a roof over your head. I am without.” He sighs and lowers his head. “No one could love that.”

You act on instinct, wondering if the actors will follow these moves, as you reach up to cup his cheek after glancing down at the lines. “I could love like that. I do not desire a cottage by the sea, enough food in my belly to make me sick, nor do I require jewels shiny enough to rival the stars. I want you. Only you. Nothing else. If you want to leave, then go, but you simply have to know that it was never a question of what you have. I am here because of my love for you.”

Dieter shudders and for one moment, he thinks that you aren’t just reading the lines. Or maybe it’s him discovering that he doesn’t want you to be just reading them. His stomach twists and he can’t help but lean into your hand. “I love you.” He professes softly. “Everything that I am, everything I will be is for you. Be sure of it. I will make you proud to be mine. I will make you a life to envy.”

You stare into those dark eyes, unable to believe he’s that good an actor. Your heart thumps into your chest and you can’t stop yourself from surging forward to press your lips to his.

He groans, immediately wrapping his arms around you and kissing you passionately. Not with the fury of the last kiss, but hunger. Need lacing the desperation of his lips. Believing for a moment that you actually want to kiss him.

You drop the papers to the floor, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him even closer. You press yourself against him, a clawing need flaring to life inside of you for him. You want your husband.

He feels like he can’t get enough of you. Like he needs this more than he needs to breathe. His tongue sliding along your lips to bed for entrance and he turns the both of you, pressing you up against his desk.

You gasp when he pushes you up against his desk and he takes advantage of that to slide his tongue into your mouth. “Shit, Dieter.” You moan when he kisses along your neck, his hard cock pressed against your hip and you are desperate to touch him. You reach between you to squeeze his cock through his trousers, wanting to hear him moan your name.

He pants your name, already hard and throbbing for you after just a simple kiss. He would cum if you kept squeezing him. Pulling his hands around to tear at your robe, his other hand slides under your nightgown, groaning when he finds you bare, no drawers underneath.

You are about to give in, to let him touch you again, to let him fuck you. Until you remind yourself that he’s going to brothels and only wants you when he is bored. You push him away, making him stumble as you lower your nightgown. “What the hell? Did I do something wrong?” Dieter asks, half worried he overstepped while another half of him is beyond horny and frustrated.

“We can’t keep doing this.” You hiss, adjusting your dressing gown.

“Can’t keep doing what?” He huffs, raking a hand through his wild hair. “Kissing? We’re married, we can do whatever we want.” He insists, taking a step towards you again, wanting to convince you.

Holding a hand up, you shake your head at him, stopping him in his tracks. “You can’t just use me when you are bored.”

Dieter stares at you, dumbfounded that you are serious about not letting him touch you. “It’s that tutor, isn’t it?” He hisses, narrowing his eyes at you. “Mr. Jones? Is he why you don’t want me to touch you?”

Your jaw drops, unable to believe what he is insinuating. “Are you- do you truly believe that I - you know what I find insanely unfair? The fact that you can go out and fuck whoever you want. Man or woman. You can do whatever you want because you’re a man. Yet when I - a feeble woman - want to enjoy myself, it is forbidden.”

Dieter clenches his jaw, “you know what the agreement was. My life was going to remain the same while you managed to achieve things you could not before my last name. All you have to do is remain faithful to me.” He answers you and you shake your head, stepping forward to poke his chest while your heart pounds.

“And where is my faithfulness? We took a vow before God and you have broken it who knows how many times? You are allowed freedom and I am to merely simper and wait for your return from your whorehouses. I will not be a bystander in my own marriage. Damn you for what you have done to me.” You growl, poking him again.

“I don’t-” Dieter barely manages to speak before your eyes roll into the back of your head and you collapse before him.

Fear makes Dieter’s blood run cold, leaping forward to catch you before you can strike your head against the sharp wooden edge of his desk as he shouts your name to no avail. You are lifeless in his arms. His next shout is more of a scream. “Harold!” With a grunt and stumbling slightly, he manages to lift you into his arms. “Fetch the doctor!”

The butler bursts into the study in his nightclothes, eyes wide. “Right away sir!”

Dieter rushes out of the room and towards the stairs. “Come on, wake up, wake up!” He huffs as he flies up them, adrenaline and fear giving him the strength to make it seem easy. All he can think is that you will be okay once you are in your bed and the doctor sees you.

The entire household is soon awake and you are still unconscious. Dieter orders two more doctors to the house, all three showing up at the same time, confused that Dieter summoned their colleagues. “I need to know what is wrong. It’s my wife. I won’t take a risk.”

The doctors all understood his concern but one of them asked Dieter if he had obtained a medical degree from Harvard. With a shake of his head, the doctor chuckles humorlessly, and pats Dieter on the back.

“She’s in good hands.” The doctor promises before they disappear into your room. He follows, gripping your hand as he kneels down beside your bed and watches the doctors as they check you over. They all look at each other after several moments before they all nod. Dieter feels like he’s about to rip his hair out, needing to know what the hell is wrong with you. “We all agree Mr. Bravo, that your wife…she is pregnant.”

Dieter’s entire body stiffens, immediately shaking his head in disbelief. “That’s not possible.” He protests before he bites his lip, remembering the night he had stormed into your room and you had ridden him. He hadn’t been wearing a condom. “P-pregnant?” He demands, looking from doctor to doctor. “You are sure? There is nothing else wrong with her? She- she is carrying a child?”

“She likely fainted from hysteria. Was she stressed about something?” One doctor asks Dieter. “I’d guess she’s in the early stages so stress is not advised. She needs to relax and she needs rest. She will wake up soon. When she does, she will need something to eat and drink. Relaxation.” The doctor stresses as he looks at a shocked Dieter.

He nods, head swimming with questions and thoughts. Terrified and yet, he’s somehow….worried that you will be upset. You had told him that not having children wouldn’t be a problem and now you are carrying a child. He swallows and shakes off his stupor, reaching out to shake the doctor’s hands. “Thank you for coming.” He tells them. “Thank you. I - I am grateful for your help. She gave me a fright when she collapsed.”

The doctors go back to their homes, leaving Dieter to sit by your bedside. He holds your hand, unsure of how you’re going to feel when you wake up. Jesus, he has the worst luck. One night, the only night he didn’t wear a condom and he knocked you up. Harold brings him a brandy, setting it down on your nightstand.

“You look like you could use this.” The butler says, feeling how tense Dieter is. Sunlight streams through the curtains when you finally open your eyes, blinking a few times as your head hurts.

Instantly, Dieter is leaning forward, reaching for your hand again. Whispering your name softly to not startle you. “It’s me.” He reassures you, squeezing your hand gently. “You frightened me.” He tries to joke, smiling weakly. “Is that how you win arguments? Fainting?”

It takes you a few moments to remember what happened. You suddenly remember arguing with Dieter, the kiss that came before the arguing and then nothing. You fainted. That’s what he told you. You chuckle weakly, “only way to win arguments against you. Too stubborn to give up and let - let your damn wife win.”

He huffs quietly, smiles a bit wider before it turns serious. Remembering the doctor’s words, he nods. “Well, you are winning all the arguments for now.” He promises. “The doctors said you shouldn’t be stressed.”

You frown at him, confused. “Doctors?”

Dieter gives an embarrassed shrug of his shoulders, his grip on your tightening. “I may have called for three doctors, to make sure that they missed nothing.” He confesses, blushing slightly.

You shake your head at him, unable to believe he called three doctors. “You silly man.” You chuckle, voice still a little weak as you gather your strength. “What did they say?” You ask, wondering what happened.

Dieter bites his lip, looking away from you guiltily for a moment. You will hate him after this. His fingers tense around yours slightly and he lets out a heavy sigh. “I- they said that you are expecting.” He tells you quietly. “The stress made you faint, but you are pregnant.”

Your eyes widen, staring at him in shock. “I- they said that I’m - I’m pregnant?” You croak out, confusion on your face as you wonder how it happened because he wore a condom and you’ve only had sex twice. “Oh.” You gulp, remembering the time he came inside of you. “I see.” You murmur, trying to process the fact that you are pregnant.

“The day- the day you rode me.” Dieter’s traitorous cock twitches. “I wasn’t wearing a condom and I came inside you.” He’s not going to accuse you of having Mr. Jones’s baby. Not when you had been so offended. You weren’t a liar. “That must have been when it happened.”

You place your free hand on your lower stomach, progressing the fact that you are with child. Something you never imagined you’d be able to have in your life. You always imagined being a lonely old woman, a spinster, and now you have a husband and are pregnant. Tears sting in your eyes and you swallow harshly. “A baby. I- I never…are you angry with me?” You ask after a moment, worried that he’s furious. He didn’t want children.

“It is hardly reasonable for me to be angry when I was the one who entered your chambers.” He reminds you. “I didn’t have a condom with me and I was very willing to spill inside you.” He sighs. “I know this is not what you wanted. I- if you wish, there are places to seek….” He doesn’t voice the rest of it, knowing you will understand what he is saying. “Or, once you give birth, we can hire a wet nurse.”

You ponder it for a moment. You imagine your life in two directions. You could seek what he mentioned, prevent yourself from enduring childbirth and allow both you and Dieter to continue your hobbies. Or, you see yourself writing, a baby in a Moses basket beside you sleeping. A baby that is half you and half Dieter. You ponder both lives, wondering what one you want until you look into those dark eyes and you realize you want the child. You want his child. “I want the baby. Do you want…what do you want?”

“You shouted at me before you collapsed.” Dieter tells you, feeling like he’s about to crawl out of his skin. “You said that I have been unfaithful countless times.” He licks his lips and meets your eyes. “I- I will confess that I have been to the brothel, and attempted to continue on as I had before. Mouths around my cock. Even tried being fucked in an attempt to resume my life.” He squeezes your hand. “I could not even get hard, let alone slide inside someone else. I don’t know what you will think of that, but you should know that I haven’t slept with anyone but you in reality.”

You stare at him in shock, knowing that he always made it known that he would continue his dalliances outside of the house. To hear that he has been unable to do them, despite his best efforts, confuses you even more. “Why - why do you think you haven’t been able to - to resume your life?” You ask, a frown on your face, hoping he doesn’t blame you for it all.

Snorting, he shakes his head, reaching out with his free hand to caress your cheek. “It seems as if my body knew what my head did not want to acknowledge.” He murmurs softly. “That my wife was the one that I wanted.”

You offer him a soft smile, your heart thumping as you keep your eyes fixed on his. “Why - why don’t you want to go back?” You ask softly and he chuckles, shaking his head for a moment.

“You don’t know by now?” He asks. You shake your head, a little dumbstruck. “Because I want you. Somehow, you’ve wiggled your way into my heart and I fear that I can never remove you. Even more terrifying, I don’t want to remove you. I want - I want to be by your side always, I want to learn more about you, I want to spend every night in your arms. I want to touch you, make you moan. I want to make you happy. I’ve never felt like this before.” He almost seems frustrated when his eyes drift across the room but you just reach out to cup his cheeks.

“Listen to me.” You order, “I feel all of those things too. You’re infuriating. You’re childish and spoiled and so - so irritating.” He opens his mouth in protest but you continue before he can say anything. “But, somehow, you’ve made me want you. Knowing more about you, how kind you can be. How smart you are and the way you jump into something you love with all of your heart. It’s made me fall in love with you. Damn you for making me love you. Ruined all of our plans but God, I don’t regret a moment. I don’t regret marrying you. I love you, Dieter.”

Dieter leans into your touch, closing his eyes and sighing. “I should be furious.” He tells you. “Especially because it’s all due to my father that I have found the woman I love, but I cannot be bothered to care.” He murmurs. “I love you. I-I want our marriage to be real.”

You smile for a moment, meeting his eyes when he opens them again. You feel at peace for the first time since he approached you about marriage. “Me too.” You murmur, leaning closer to softly press your lips to his. No urgency, just sweetness as you kiss him.

Dieter pulls back, pecking your lips and then your nose and forehead. “I need to ring for some breakfast for you.” He murmurs softly. “The doctors said you needed to eat and drink when you woke up. No stress. So you will stay in bed today.” He smothers a yawn, having stayed up all night watching over you in worry and fear of how you would react to the news. Now that you are both decided, his own exhaustion is weighing down on him.

“Will you stay with me?” You ask once he stands up to ring the bell for the butler. He turns to look back at you, a soft look in his eyes. “I shall.” He strides over to the bed, kicking off his house shoes before he lays down beside you, pulling you into his arms. “Since the deed has already been done…I know a way we can both relax.” You smirk, sliding your hand down to squeeze him through his trousers, suddenly desperate for your husband.

“Fuck.” He hisses, feeling his cock harden even though he is tired. “Are you sure?” He asks, worried about your health more than anything. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

You nod, loving the way he hardens under your palm. “I want you to fuck your wife and then your wife wants you to nap.” You order, rubbing him before you lean closer to kiss along his neck.

The door opens a moment later and Harold walks in. “Not now Harold.” Dieter growls.

“Sir, I-” He looks at his boss.

“Not now.” Dieter whines, keeping his eyes on yours and the butler just backs out of the room with a chuckle. The staff all had bets on how long it would take for him to fall in love with you.

You moan, hips bucking up into his touch. You are so sensitive, the simple brush of his fingers on your clit has you dripping onto your nightgown. "Oh God, Dieter." You whimper, kissing his hair as he continues kissing along your throat. Your hands slide under his shirt, caressing his back as he rubs your clit a little faster.

Once the two of you are alone again, Dieter wastes no time, turning to pin you on your back. His face buried in your neck to kiss along your throat. “I want you so badly.” He moans, fingers sliding up under your nightgown. “Need you.” His fingers comb through your curls to start rubbing your clit.

“Dieter.” You moan his name, bucking your hips up to his touch, needing more from him now that you have before.

You sound so beautiful, whimpering his name. Dieter groans and pulls back to bite your chin. “Cum.” He coos, voice raspy with lust. “Cum and I’ll fuck you.” He promises, wanting you to be dripping when he slides inside you.

You can hardly resist when he orders you to cum like that. With another moan, you shake beneath him, clamping down around nothing as he works your clit with expertise. “Dieter, please.” You whine, tugging on his shirt as your impatience to have him inside of you grows.

He chuckles, leaning back to unbutton his pants. He would tease you if he wasn’t as anxious to be inside of you as you seem to be to have him there. Pushing down his trousers so his hard cock bounces free, he stands on the bed, grinning down at you while he shucks the material the rest of the way off and starts unbuttoning his shirt.

You playfully roll your eyes at the display he puts on, his cock bouncing as he shifts from one foot to the other, his shirt soon thrown across the room. “Fuck me, you insufferable man.” You tease, pulling off your nightgown to expose your body to his dark gaze.

Dieter drops down to his knees, running his hands up your thighs appreciatively. “I’m going to fuck you. Want to fuck my wife.” He coos. His hands turn gentle and he caresses your skin as his eyes darken slightly. “I love you.”

You smile as he hovers over you, his elbows resting either side of you. “I love you too.” You tilt your head to kiss his lips before you reach between you to grip his cock, positioning him at your entrance. “Fuck your wife.” You order, looking into those dark eyes you love so much.

He pushes into you slowly, groaning loudly the entire time. Inch by inch he sinks into you happily, feeling your walls suck him in deeper while he watches your mouth drop open. “Oh fuck.” He hisses, grinding his pubic hair against your clit. “This- God- how did I go without this?” He can’t even describe it. Sex has always been fun, but this is making his entire body light up with pleasure, something he hadn’t recognized as happening the first time.

You cling to him, wrapping your legs around his waist to push him deeper into you until he is fully sheathed inside of your cunt. “It’s too good. I don’t - I don’t want to go without this.” You moan your response, walls fluttering around him. “Dieter please. Fuck me.” You beg, needing to feel every inch of him.

It’s all he needs to hear. Starting to rock into you in a rhythm that is much more sedate than he had taken you the first two times, this has feeling in it. Kisses punctuating the thrust of his hips and the way your cunt grips him. He caresses your cheek and snaps his hips forward in a move that is both gentle and rough enough to make you cry out his name.

You cling to him, ankles hooked behind his face to keep him close, and you kiss him over and over. “Darling. It’s - it’s - I love you.” You choke, tears stinging in your eyes as your emotions get to you. It’s impossible to avoid, your pregnancy already affecting you.

“Shhh shhh.” Dieter coos, pressing closer and nudging his nose against yours before he kisses your eyelids. “It’s okay sweetheart. I’m going to- I’m going to take care of you.” He promises, knowing that before this, he had never been ready for responsibility. But he is now. “We will do this together.”

“Together.” You echo, knowing that he’s just as scared as you. Being together for real, having a family together. Both things that neither of you planned on happening but you are certain that it was meant to be. He hits something deep that makes your walls flutter around him, close to your climax. “God, you feel perfect. Never - never imagined having something like this. I love you Dieter. I - oh shit.” You curse, clamping down on his cock as you cum, unable to stop yourself as you soak him.

He moans, body quaking over you. Bundling you close and rocking his hips frantically as he works you through your pleasure and chases his own. It doesn’t take long, not with how worked up he has been over the past months over you. Pushing deep inside you, Dieter cums. Gasping and whimpering your name over and over as his cock paints your walls and fills your already filled womb with his sticky seed.

You caress his back as he comes down from his high. You are speechless, mind blank as you simply enjoy the pleasure he gave you. You kiss along his neck until your lips meet his, his tongue sliding into your mouth to caress it with a hum of contentment. His cock softens inside of you but you don’t want him to move, happy to have him on top of you.

“I love you.” The words are whispered against your lips when he pulls back, looking down at you with love and affection. “I am eager to see how your body changes.” He smirks. “I’ve never had sex with a pregnant woman before. But I find that I love it.”

You chuckle, “probably because you know you can’t get me pregnant twice. And I’m certain you’ll be interested when my breasts fill with milk.” You tease, knowing how curious he can be.

He tilts his head, eyes wide as he thinks about it before a smirk appears. “Now…I know I’m gonna love it.”

You giggle, stroking his upper arms. “Let’s get some sleep. You are exhausted and your pregnant wife needs her rest.” He nods in agreement, shifting to lay down beside you. After a quick clean up, you are soon falling asleep in his arms. You never imagined that your boss would become your husband and the father of your child, but an arrangement led to a happy life together.

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