⁄⁄ Willem ⁄⁄

I felt the unfamiliar tug of arousal at my neck and ears and in my neither region.

For the first time in a long time, my body stirred to life and heat oozed through my veins, awakening a particular set of cells that my ego thought was long dead.

My cock grew, long, thick and hard. My feelings of irritation from earlier slipped away as I succumbed to strong, intense feelings of lust. It's been a long-ass minute since I've had a woman in my bed, or even under this roof, and my libido wanted me to know that.

After I got Filo to clean up the broken vase in Amelia's room, I took a cold shower and then decided to call it a night. I sat up in bed dressed only in snug-fitting boxers and the conspicuous erection between my legs refused to give me a moment of reprieve.

The feeling of desire pumping through my body only to concentrate at the tip of my rigid cock felt foreign.

I had no right to want her. To crave her like this. I lost every claim I had to her body the second I walked away from her all those years ago.

But all I could think about was the sight of her stepping out of the bathroom in a short towel, dark pointed nipples on display just before she managed to secure it under her arm. And instantly, the temperature in her bedroom had gone up by a thousand degrees.

Amelia wasn't beautiful in the traditional sense. Her thick natural hair was streaked with gray and I didn't know many twenty-eight-year-olds with hair like that. I longed to feel the coarseness of it beneath my fingertips while I held her to me, tongue stroking the erratic pulse at her neck while I claimed her wet pussy.

She was tall but curvy with large enough breasts and wide hips. My girl was thick in a good way. Her skin, a medium brown, looked soft and well hydrated. Her almond-shaped brown eyes stood out among the rest of her striking features like a burning candle in the dark. She had a scrutinizing, penetrative gaze. The kind of gaze that could bring a man to his knees.

Bring me to my knees.

Amelia had an air of austerity about her, but her brown eyes were the kindest set of eyes I'd ever had the pleasure of looking into, even when she was kicking me out of her room with a stern accented voice.

I tossed and turned and eventually the sexual tension dissipated from my body; then all I could think about was Bradley lying in that hospital bed with all kinds of tubes protruding from his body.

He looked so small and frail today, something I hadn't noticed before. Tessa hadn't mentioned any eating problems, so I'd automatically assumed that all was well.

I worked too much and my absence in my son's life was becoming problematic. I needed to do better.

My eyes grew heavy but I took a minute to pray. I prayed that Amelia would eventually forgive me for neglecting her and I prayed for Bradley's speedy recovery with minimal complications.

Time passed and startled out of an erotic dream where Amelia was the star, my eyes flew open. The room was dark and I guessed at some point during the night, I had remembered to turn off the bedside lamp. I usually fell asleep with it on while perusing business documents or reading the news.

My feet touched the thick carpet and I got out of bed, grabbing a black cotton robe before finding my way downstairs. The house was quiet except for the soft hum of the refrigerator as I entered the kitchen.

I flicked on the light and then I heard a gasp followed by the hurried clacking of flip flops on the tile. Amelia appeared before me and as she was about to fly past me like a bird trapped in a hurricane, I caught her arm.

Her skin was warm to the touch and her eyes flew to my face before narrowing on my tight grip.

I released her. "I'm sorry. I didn't know you were here. Please, don't leave on my behalf."

"You're not that special, Mr. de Vries, but it is your house and I think you should be able to grab a midnight snack without me interfering."

She wore a white cropped top, no bra, and soft looking pajama pants with cats on them. Her nipples were hard pebbles and I could see the outline of her large breasts.

My cock twitched, my body raging at me to take her in my arms. I wanted to push her up against the kitchen cabinets and have my way with her, running my hands down her curves, kissing her sweet mouth, before I bent her over and filled her up from behind.

She blinked and I looked away, grateful she couldn't read my mind.

"Please, stay," I said, opening the fridge and grabbing a cold bottle of water.

"I would have given an arm and a leg to hear those words a year ago, but now I just want to run for the hills." Her voice was barely above a whisper, but her words were loud and clear, piercing arrows that penetrated deep.

"You still can," I told her. I had no intention of keeping her here against her will, fully knowing I didn't deserve her.

"You would love that, wouldn't you? You want me to make you a free man."

I pressed the water bottle to my lips and took a sip. "I am a free man, Amelia, and I have been for the past eleven years. In case you haven't noticed, our marriage isn't conventional."

She took two slow steps toward me until her arm was touching mine. From this close, the scent of her perfume or body lotion wafted over me, making my dick hard. The woman looked and smelled like a goddess. I placed the water bottle on the counter, turning to give her my full attention.

She lifted her gaze to meet my eyes and spoke in a serious tone. "You're not free to remarry, Willem. I am your wife and I need you to start treating me as such."

I went still, but every cell in my body scrambled for the hills, running as fast as they could. I couldn't tell if she was serious or not.

My eyes narrowed and fixated on her plump lips. "In that case," I said, pulling her closer to my body, my hand going around her thin waist, "You wouldn't mind if I do this."

My lips grazed the soft skin at her neck, and damn me if her heart wasn't beating at a thousand miles an hour. I knew she could feel how hard I was. How bad I wanted her.

I kissed her right where her neck met her shoulder, lingering kisses, tongue sliding against her heartbeat. She clutched my robe and I leaned back to get a better look at her face. Her eyes were closed, lips slightly parted. She'd let her guard down, if only for an instant, and this moment between us felt genuine and more real than anything I've had with any other woman.

"As my wife, you also wouldn't protest if I did this." I fused our lips together and it was fucking magical.

She whimpered, pulling back a little, but soon enough she was kissing me back. Licking into my mouth. Moaning. Our tongues mated, sliding seductively. I tasted the innocence on her breath, but I sensed no reservations.

Kissing her felt unreal. I didn't know anything about this woman in my arms, but I wanted her something fierce.

I grabbed her behind, turning her sideways so I could slip my hand down the front of her pants. My fingers touched her warm clit and an inch further back she was soaking wet, her desire evident. All I could think about was all that slickness on my cock when I finally penetrated her tight core.

I groaned in pleasure, rubbing some of her wetness in circles over her clit. "Oh, schatje, your pussy is perfection. You're so wet for me right now."

Her lashes lifted and she looked at me, brown eyes hooded. "Oh, that feels so good."

"Good, I can make you feel so much better." I suckled the side of her neck as her head fell back, her skin warm, her scent like perfume in my nose. "Spread your legs for me, honey. That's it, yes, just like that. Let me finger fuck you until you come on my hand."

I arched my middle finger and was about to insert it in her dripping sex when she stiffened and pushed me off, my hand slipping out of her pants. I rubbed her glossy wetness between my fingers and regarded her with a question mark on my face.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Eleven years, no calls and not even one text from you, and now you think you can stick your finger up my pants?" She shook her head, disapproval written all over her naive face. "You took me serious back there when I said I wanted to be treated as your wife, didn't you?"

I smirked, amused by her ridiculous attempt to backtrack on her previous statement. Maybe she wasn't as naive as she appeared.

She took a step toward the door, her eyes shrewed as she studied my face. "I don't know anything about you, and based on what I've seen so far, you would make for a shitty husband."

This was bad.

I might have gotten ahead of myself, but I knew my place. This woman was holding a grudge and it appeared that she hadn't moved on as I had.

Who was I kidding? I hadn't moved on either. My dick couldn't get hard for anyone else. Not even Jessie, and she was the definition of sexy personified.

Not only did Amelia resent me, but she was also hurting. I guess I owed her an explanation and at the very least, an apology.

But where the fuck did I start?

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