Page 6 of Eager Housewife

My heart bounces. I wonder exactly what he’ll expect. I hope I can satisfy him. Can we still spend time together during my weekends off? I don’t dare ask. But I hope so. I really, really hope so.

He strides around the vehicle, yanks open my door, and regards me darkly.

“Okay.” My throat is so tight I’m only capable of that squeak, but it’s enough.

He nods tersely, offers his hand, and when I take it pulls me from my seat. He doesn’t let go as we enter the house, his big hand enveloping mine.

And that’s it, I guess. We’re betrothed.

I’m engaged to my crush. The father of my best friend. The man who stole my heart over the course of our first evening together, and who heats me all over every time he looks at me.

This is insane.

Mr Blackstone pulls me through to the kitchen, and I obediently scramble onto the stool at the kitchen island he leaves me next to as he sets about making coffee. His phone buzzes in his pocket almost non-stop with notifications and calls. He doesn’t even glance at it.

“You can answer your phone, it alright,” I say after a couple of minutes.

I don’t know what to do with myself.

I basically proposed marriage to my best friend’s dad, and now… There’s no rule book for this.

“No.” He shakes his head abruptly. “That’s just Blackstone work. Nothing to be concerned with compared to…”

He pulls the phone from his pocket, silences it, and tosses it onto the marble countertop where it lies motionless. A dead little brick.

“But before we go any further, we should clarify what we both expect from this marriage.”

Suddenly, I’m pinned. I daren’t breathe for the risk I might shatter my chance with Mr Blackstone. Does he need me to do some clever thing? Maybe be really sexy?

I don’t know how to do that. I can barely flirt or get myself off with my fingers. I certainly can’t be a seductress.

“I don’t want you to be under illusions, Blythe.” He sets a cappuccino before me and an espresso in front of himself.

He remembers what my favourite coffee is.

“About free use, you mean?” I ask, voice wobbling.

He knocks back the espresso in one gulp and I watch entranced at the bob of his dark stubbled neck. I want to kiss that roughness.

“I’d take exactly what I wanted,” he says harshly, slamming the cup down and pinning me with his gaze. “Whenever I wanted it. You’d just have to be available.”

The mere idea makes me weak with need.

Yes. Take me.I’ll be yours anytime you like.

“I wake up horny in the middle of the night? You’ll wake with my cock in your pussy,” he continues. “You’re doing the laundry and looking hot? I’ll bend you over the washing machine. You don’t say no. You don’t complain. I don’task. I just take.”

He says these scorching words matter of factly, and without emotion, despite how filthy they are. Almost like a challenge. He’s waiting for me to rebel at what he’s saying. He’s the hottest imaginable headteacher, laying down the rules, and asking me if I’m going to be a good girl, or be expelled. His eyes bore into me, the blue dark as ink.

“I think…” My throat is dry, and I have to break off to clear it with a cough and then swallow. “I can do that.”

I congratulate myself that I didn’t throw myself on the floor at his feet, begging, with my legs open.

“Can you?” he asks softly, remaining motionless.

“Yes.” But my voice betrays me, shaking and higher than usual.

I’m a virgin, after all. There’s no way on earth I’m telling Mr Blackstone that, because I’m pretty sure he’d freak out and call this whole idea off. But if he leads? If he’s in charge, and takes what he wants from me, I will be so happy to please him. I will be his pliable doll.