The Missing Wife ✓

Chapter Sixteen | Why can't Miss Piggy count to one hundred?

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Mature 🔞

"My zipper is stuck." I whispered.

He raised an eyebrow.

His eyes travelling down the dress I was wearing all day. "Can you help me?" I ask, he nods his head rubbing the back of his neck as he walks towards me.

Standing behind me, he looks up at the mirror staring into my eyes. He pushes my hair to the side of my neck; I help him as I bring the rest. His fingers glide down my back, I stutter a gasp as his wet, dripping fingers allow water to slide down my back.

He reaches the zipper, holding my hip as he tries to pull it down. I hold onto the bra of the dress; Nicholas was focused as he dragged the zipper up before back down. "What did you do?"

"It's not me, I was trying to unzip then it stopped moving." I said, he shakes his head before crouching down onto his feet, he stood back up.

"Alright, come over here and steady on the wall." He said, I picked my dress up and walked towards the wall. I put both hands against it as he stood behind me, he held onto my hip, in that second, he pulled down the zipper with all his force causing it to zip down slightly.

He continued zipping up and down.

"Hurry, I'm suffocating." I whispered out.

"I am trying." He growled out, in that very moment he pulled it down and the zipper broke off. I gasped as I turned to face him, my back reaching the dress.

I was still stuck.

Nicholas lifts up the zipper in his hands before throwing it onto the floor.

"You just broke the bloody zipper!"

"It was clearly an accident!"

"A dress that cost nearly ten thousand dollars, and the zipper is made out of plastic. Wow. What happened to saving the turtles?" Nicholas shakes his head and pushes me back around and against the wall, I gulped before he ripped the dress open.

With that it fell to the ground, my eyes widened.

"You just ripped the dress!"

"Yes, I know. I can see that."

"Why would you do that?" Nicholas rubs his hands onto his forehead as he tries turning around, I pulled onto his arms and pulled him back to me. "Money does not grow from trees Nicholas - "

"They sort of do, paper equals money."

"No that's not what I'm trying to say! Are you stupid?" I see something shift in his eyes and I knew I hit a spot as he hard-pressed me back against the wall with him standing between my legs.

He pushes a few blocks from my hair behind my ears before grabbing onto my neck. Not hard, but enough for me to breathe properly.

"Sometimes, dimentichi esattamente chi stai parlando con Arabella." He slurs as he looks down at me, my eyes lift reaching his chin as he stares back down at me.

[you forget who are talking to.]

His lips inches away from me.

"Do you need me to remind you?" His eyes, his goddamn eyes were hallucinating my thoughts. His eyes analysed my face before landing onto my lips.

[you forget who are talking to.]

"E hai dimenticato con chi stai parlando, hai bisogno che te lo ricordi?" I pushed my head in closer, my lips nearly touching his own. I feel his minty breath on my mouth as he looks deeply at me.

[And you forgot who you are talking to, do you need me to remind you?]

Did I want this? Yes, I god damn did.

"Fanculo questo."

[Fuck this]

His lips and gaze briefly made contact with mine as he whispered, followed by his eyes. My eyes were open from the shock when his lips brushed against mine, but he felt so good against my lips that I decided to close them and give him a kiss in return.

There was the delicacy of desire in that kiss, the concentrated essence of a million loving thoughts. His kiss is infused with a passion that sparks, unlike that of those movie stars.

It holds the promise of reality and the innate desire that everyone of us possesses. And with that, he conveys to me that he is awake, spiritually aware, and that he embraces himself rather than pretending to be a replica of his love role models.

My hands travel to the back of his head, I feel his tongue attempting to find mine, but my closed teeth block him. He bites onto my bottom lip, causing me to yelp and his tongue slides in finding mine. I moan softly, his hands grab onto my bottom thigh and lifts me up from the ground.

"Nicholas," I whisper his name as our foreheads press against one another. "The contract."

"Fuck the contract." He walks out of the walk-in cupboard with me in his arms as if I weighed nothing, he gently settles me down onto the bed and our lips find one another.

He towers over me, my head falls onto the silky green sheets.

His lips continue to travel down my jaw, towards my neck.

He begins to suck onto it roughly, I moan feeling him harden between my thighs.

His lips travel to my shoulders, he slides my bra strap down and it falls.

His lips travel across the top of my breasts, my fingers holding onto his back as my back arches.

"Daddy." A knock on the door disrupts us, Nicholas raises his head from my chest.

"Is that your-"

"Fuck."

He slides off of me, grabbing a pair of shorts from the draws before sliding it on. I scramble to get a shirt on, as he opens the door. A beautiful little girl comes into view, her dark brown hair bounced in finished curls.

Her eyes were exactly like Nicholas, she was a copy print of him. "Hey princess," he whispers.

"Whose that?" I give her a small wave.

"Urm-a friend." Nicholas exits the room and closes the door behind him, "let's get you to bed." Embarrassment rises onto my face as I sink back into the bed, his daughter just caught us nearly fucking each other's brains out.

After an hour or so, the door opens, and I look up to see Nicholas walking in. He closes the door behind him, "I am sorry about that, she was meant to stay with Rodrigues." I smile.

"She's beautiful Nicholas, you think she resembles her mother?" He looks at me.

"More than she thinks."

"So, sleeping arrangements."

"I'll sleep somewhere else-"

"No, stay with me." He thinks it over before sliding into the bed, his fingers drag a strand of my hair behind my ears as he stares into my eyes deeply. "Why do you always stare at my eyes like that?"

"Because they're beautiful."

He whispers.