This is a multi-part series about a widower who finds himself in possession of a mail-order bride.. who -- doesn't exactly turn out the way he expected. Gianna finds herself pounced by Anthony for the first time since they became a married couple.
Anthony anticipates the arrival of his bride, while Gianna dons her new identity. Ridiculous as the scheme is, could she possibly luck out and pull the wool over Anthony's eyes? Or will she get into trouble with her prospective husband?
There is a touch more smut than story in this chapter.
All characters are 21 years and above. ETA: I made a typographical error where Gianna's age was depicted as 20 years old in the previous chapter. That was a mistake, as I intended for her to be 21; so I apologize for that
Chapter 3
Gianna seethed as she stormed into the room, shrugging the wrinkled silk dress off her shoulders and stepping out of it. As she waited for water to fill the tub, she considered the happenings of the day thus far. All that hopeless lying and worrying had aged her by years and to top it off, that dreadful man had treated her with such shocking disrespect. Granted, she had lied to him, but surely no amount of lying deserved that form of treatment. She winced as she remembered that horrible, humiliating spanking. At this point, she wasn't sure which was more badly maimed -- her buttocks or her pride.
Still,
she thought as she stepped into the tub, wincing as her raw flesh came in contact with the hot water.
At least it wasn't all for naught
. Not only was she allowed to stay, she no longer had to put up the pretence any longer. She just wasn't sure if her, frankly, quite psychotic, new husband was worth all of that.
As she poured the lightly scented bath oil into the water, Gianna paused.
No,
she decided.
It was worth it.
Her parents had the money they needed. Her father would get well again, and they were saved from being in debt to the most horrible man in Italy. If it meant that she had to be married to the most uncouth man on the Western frontier, so be it.
She sighed in relief as the warm water soothed her aching muscles. Perhaps life wouldn't be so intolerable. Other than Anthony, everyone else seemed nice. He was considerably older than her too.
Perhaps he wouldn't even be able to get it up,
she thought and laughed at the uncharitable thought.
Rubbing her hands across her body to clean the grime off, she was surprised to find her lady parts unusually slick and slippery. Her nose wrinkled in surprise. She wondered for a moment if it had anything to do with Anthony's earlier ministrations, and swiftly banished the welcome thought. It had been a good long day, and that horrible experience was the last thing she wanted on her mind.
Gianna sank deeper into the water so that her hair was submerged and leaned her head against the tub. Closing her eyes, she relaxed as she explored her intimate area with a wondering finger. She hated to admit it, but it hadn't felt
entirely
terrible when he had caressed her there. She had never touched herself before since her mother had expressively forbidden anything of the sort while she was growing up. She marvelled at the softness of her folds, and how gently parting them revealed flesh that was softer still. Strangely, it felt as though no matter how much her hand or the water came in contact with her sex, it remained as slippery as ever.
And,
oh
. What was this?
Oh, oh,
oh
.
Her breathing quickened as her fingers found a spot that felt especially wonderful when she rubbed it. A soft moan escaped from her parted lips as she gently, gingerly drew circles around that delicate little bud. Her back arched, her nipples pebbling as her breasts emerged over the top of the water.
This felt so good.
"Sweet mercy," Gianna thought as she felt her toes curling out of their own volition. "What's happening to me? What -"
"What a beautiful sight."
Gianna's eyes popped open and she sat up abruptly, sending the water over the tub's edge.
"Anthony!" she gasped in displeasure, her hands moving over her body in a desperately futile attempt to protect her own modesty as he eyed her hungrily. The brute had removed his waistcoat and shirt and now stood before her clad in nothing but his well-worn jeans. She couldn't help staring at his broad chest and chiselled abs. For a man of forty summers, he was in surprisingly good shape. As her eyes wandered over the expanse of his shoulders and up to his face, she found herself staring straight into his mocking eyes as he raised an eyebrow.
Thoroughly embarrassed at being caught staring and (dear Lord almighty) touching herself
that way
, she dropped her gaze swiftly. Feeling indignant, she snapped, "How long have you been standing there? Why didn't you knock?"
Anthony raised his eyebrows. "This is my room, why should I knock?" She bristled as he kneeled beside her. "Besides, I'm glad that I didn't. How else would I have caught you in your naughty little acts?"
"My naughty little, oh God," Gianna closed her eyes, trying to preserve whatever tiny shred of dignity she had left.
"Come now," Anthony touched her cheek, turning her reluctant face towards him. "I am your husband. You don't have to hide from me."