I gripped her hips tightly, closed my eyes, and started to fuck her. I didn’t go slow, but I took her hard.

Harder than I intended, but it was what I needed.

In and out, I watched her cunt open up. She softened, but I didn’t give her a chance to come. At the final point, I slammed in balls deep and spilled my cum into her cunt, flooding her.

Ivan wanted kids, and I was duty bound to give them to him.

My cock was now spent for the time being. I slid out of her and put myself away.

Aurora didn’t move.

I stared at her ass, seeing my cum spill out from between her pussy.

“Lie down, put a pillow beneath your ass, and give it half an hour,” I said.

My cell phone rang, and without a backward glance, I left the room, feeling like a fucking asshole.

Why did it matter?

Why did I fucking care?

She was my wife, to do with as I pleased, and if I wanted to fuck her throughout the day, she would submit to me.

Then why did it leave a bad taste in my mouth?

Chapter Three

Aurora

Tonight was going to be a disaster.

I don’t know why Slavik had agreed to this dinner, but I was terrified. It was the first dinner as a married couple. Nearly five months into marriage, and he finally decided it was time to host a dinner. A private family dinner.

My parents were coming.

Only mine.

He didn’t have any parents.

This was going to be a nightmare, but for the past three days, I’d been planning it. Slavik had insisted on a cook. He wouldn’t eat anything I cooked for him. Not that it hurt or offended me.

It really did, but I tried not to let it show.

Along with reading, I also liked to cook. What Slavik didn’t know was that I’d put myself on a very strict diet. Years of name calling and abuse, and I was done. I wanted to be happy with myself, but I couldn’t handle it anymore. That day back in the restaurant had sealed the deal. Those words the women had laughed about. They hurt.

I worked out at the gym every single day. I swam every day. I counted calories, being sure not to go over my limit.

So far, I’d lost a couple of pounds, not that anyone noticed.

I did.

I’d even started to use the scales in the bathroom. They’d been placed in one of the storage cupboards. Now every single morning and each night, I weighed myself. It was difficult, but I tried to keep the weight the same morning and night. I ate little. Drank water, and in all honesty, prayed.

This evening was going to be difficult. In the past, my family had even mocked my attempts to lose weight, which had set me on a spiral of overeating.

I’d be in control. I was a married woman, planning my first dinner party. It would all go well. I was determined for it to work out.