This is my first story but its a long one and is 31 chapters. Its not a cuckold story, its not a revenge story. It is somewhere in-between. Its about a man who is used to controlling everything and finds himself marrying a girl who has never been controlled.
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Ed glanced at his watch every thirty seconds as the cab made its way through the commuter logjams and tie-ups. He knew that going to a dance club on a Friday night after work was a bad idea but Nikki wanted it, so here he was, watching the meter and his blood pressure edge upward.
His meeting with the Adelphi board had run longer than expected but he hadn't minded because in the end, they'd come to a development deal larger than any he'd undertaken before. Six high-rise apartment buildings, a hotel, and two commercial buildings that flanked a parking garage were going to be his in a matter of weeks. Even in his wildest dreams, he never imagined so much success so soon in his career. He'd give Nikki that sprawling country house in Connecticut she was always pining for. He'd give it to her as a wedding gift, he thought, smiling to himself.
He looked at his watch again. He was now officially an hour late. Keeping Nikki waiting did not make him happy. He hated the idea of her being in that dance club, getting talked up by all kinds of creeps and opportunists.
"I'll get out here," Ed told the driver when the sign of the dance club came into view. He stuffed two $20 bills through the Plexiglas slot, even though the fare was $18.
Bounding up the wide, gridlocked street, he nursed an odd mix of exultation about his development deal and intense irritation at disrespecting Nikki by being late. A pulsating disco beat and a gorgeous blond hostess met him at the door.
"Welcome to Thrill," she said in a voice already straining to be heard over the music. What would she sound like by midnight? Her big brown eyes and long legs held his interest for a flicker of a second before he remembered why he'd come. Ed chuckled inwardly to think how, before Nikki, he would have hit on this one in a hot minute. He handed her a $20, smiled, and waved away her protest to give him change.
He surveyed the bar but didn't see Nikki. And really, it was unlikely that someone with Nikki's charms would be nursing a drink at the bar like the stood-up half of a blind date. He turned to the sparsely populated but brightly illuminated dance floor.
There she was—dancing with four men! Yes, there were women gyrating and slithering on the dance floor, too, and they may even have been the partners of those men, but Ed didn't see it that way. To him, all the men were either dancing with his beautiful Nikki or wanted to be. He watched her swing her long dark hair with joyful abandon, smiling like a kid whose recess break just got extended. But the body had absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with being a kid. It moved in feline but rhythmic patterns that instantly mesmerized anybody who watched. Her short white skirt emphasized her endless legs, ending just where her curves yielded the most promise. As he stood admiring her, one of the men leaned toward her and said something to her that made her laugh. Just as she threw her head back, she caught sight of Ed and waved him over.
He moved toward her, happy to claim his fiancée so publicly. Her eyes got brighter as he approached and she stopped dancing to throw her arms around him.
"I'm so sorry I'm late, sweetie," he shouted into her fragrant hair.
"It's okay!" She said, now looking at him and still beaming. "I knew you'd be here eventually, so I just started without you!" Even the disco ball didn't glitter as much as her eyes did.
He laughed. "That's my girl!"
"Well, come on, then! Let's dance!" She said, pulling him to the center of the dance floor. The other men still kept their eyes on her but respectfully kept a distance now that Ed had arrived. He found himself both proud and strangely disappointed. Nevertheless, he surrendered to the rhythm and danced with his beautiful bride-to-be until her strappy little Manolo Blahniks started to hurt her feet several hours later.
Back at his quiet, luxurious penthouse on the east side, his veins still resonated to that enduring dance beat. He felt slightly wired as he undressed his favorite vixen and put his lips to the heat at her neck. She allowed him to press her against a wall and pushed her hips into his crotch. All the dancing had brought a lovely dewy quality to her skin and intensified her perfume—she smelled like blooming cereus and earthen patchouli and when he closed his eyes, he had a flash of being in a desert garden on a cool, clear night.
When their mouths met, their hungers collided. She wrapped one long leg around his thigh and he grabbed a handful of her ass. He tasted remnants of her Cosmopolitan on her tongue as it slithered around his. His other hand burrowed into the fullness of her long, dark hair, slightly more limp now after a night of dancing but still as wild and free as the spirit it crowned.
The hand at her ass moved to the vortex between her thighs. Because her leg was raised to wrap around him, he found her damp panties easily, pushing them aside to get to the succulence inside. Her cream coated his fingers with audible speed.
He knew her feet hurt but he enjoyed watching her squirm around in the palm of his hand too much to suggest that they move the party to the bedroom. She wiggled and moaned as he fingered her, so wet that she seemed to melt in his hand. If not for the hardness of her clit, he might have believed that she was.
He slipped his forefinger into her steamy hole while he frigged her clit with his thumb. His mouth muffled her gasps. Even as she got harder and arched her back in readiness, he did not stop kissing her—he wanted her to cry out in his mouth so he could catch her pleasure, relish it as it traveled through his body, and return it to her over and over again.
And when she shuddered and bucked, she fed him her pleasure through muted exclamations of joy. He stayed clamped to her as her cunt twitched and juiced. His cock, which now strained the seams of his trousers, throbbed with an ache he hoped to relieve soon.
He'd learned that if he stimulated her even during her orgasm, he could often push her to new heights, even extend the duration of her release. Tonight, her gasps turned into outright screams that filled his mouth with confirmation that his strategy was working. The creamy spasms in his hand went on for close to two minutes and one of her fists pounded the wall as the other clutched a handful of his hair.
Finally, she twisted away from him, unable to withstand any more blissful torture. Having broken free of both him and the wall, she stood beside him now, steady but glassy eyes staring at him as she clutched her midsection. The wild grin assured him she was fine but her breathing was still heavy and labored.
"Oh dear God. You won't be content unless you kill me before the wedding, will you?" she said, breathless.
"If you call a bunch of little deaths killing you, then yes, I would have to agree with you," he said, moving toward her.
She put out her hand. "Wait! What are you doing?"
He stopped, mock surprise on his face. "I was only trying to carry my lady to the boudoir."
"Oh," she said, lowering her hand. "Then by all means, please proceed." She giggled as he swept all five feet, nine inches of her up and toted her to his seductively lighted bedroom. She'd helped him design it, choosing the lighting herself. Ed was always in favor of indulging what she wanted in the bedroom.
She undressed for him now, slipping out of her blue and white striped top and wrinkled white skirt to pose for him briefly in her white lace g-string and bra. White lace suited her perfectly, and he'd once told her so. She'd worn it ever since.
"Shall I dance for you?" She asked, shaking her mostly bare ass cheeks at him.
"I'd love it. Just like those guys tonight seemed to love it," he replied, curious that he'd bring that up at this moment. Their attention to her hadn't left his thoughts for very long throughout the evening.
She laughed. "Yeah, they did love it, didn't they? You might think they'd never seen a girl before!"
"Well, at least not one as sexy as you. I can't really blame them for being fascinated." He finished removing his clothes and stood before her now sporting an enormous hard-on and a large, inviting smile.
She stopped dancing and came to him. "Is that what's kept you hard all night? The thought of those guys watching me?" Her arms went around his neck.
"They're just envious," he said, loving the way her skin felt against his. "If I'm hard, it's got nothing to do with those jerks."
"No," she purred, leading him to the bed, where she got on all fours. "Of course it doesn't."
As he surveyed the mannequins, the expensive accessories, and the wide-eyed shoppers, he recalled his pre-Nikki days. Days of Golf and Boating, he thought wryly. He never really imagined himself at Saks Fifth Avenue on a warm and sunny September day, but here he was, waiting for the most captivating woman in the world to model her potential purchases for him. Did he really miss chasing a tiny white ball around or hosing down the hull of his sea-faring craft?
No, he decided as she emerged from the dressing room in outfit Number Three. None of his former pastimes were quite as riveting as the sight of Nikki in this particular dress.
"Well, now," he said, eyebrows raised. "That's certainly a head-turner."
On the hanger, it had been a simple black dress. On Nikki, the garment took on a mystique all its own. He knew it would be short, but in actuality, it challenged even that basic description. If Nikki went out in such a dress, he'd have to cover her backside—it would undoubtedly be on display if she ever needed to bend over to pick something up.
Sheer, black lace was the insert between the dress's top and skirt, and the halter design would have kept her breasts secure had the straps not been half as wide as they needed to be. Her beautiful breasts threatened to spill out at any moment, their supple flesh gleaming with plans for imminent escape. He was glad now that his money and influence had secured a private fitting room for the two of them—he would have been embarrassed to have others see her so exposed.
