Sequel to sex dealer.
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-Swear words and dirty language, scenes and references.
-Copyright 2017.
-If you haven't read sex dealer, I suggest that you do so before reading this book so you can get a clear understanding of the characters lives.
Confused? I may as well explain since I have nothing to do till Blake gets home.
You heard right. He's still not fucking home.
Why aren't I calling 000? Because I'm getting no service and the powers out so I can't use the landline.
That's fucking great, right?
Anyway, after we burned Blake's old house down and came here to start living a normal life, I proceeded with university like I had originally planned to.
It turned out that I got a great year 12 result so I had no issues getting into a university.
I did a three year course for becoming a surgeon and now, I make so much money I don't know what to do with it, since both Blake and I have so much and nothing to spend it on. I guess once we have children, we'll have someone to spoil. a/n- I know the courses are longer but let's just pretend they're three years
We've actually been trying lately. I'm excited to have a family with Blake but going through the pain of labour again is something I'm definitely not looking forward to.
I can work whenever I want to, because I own the hospital I work at, so there's no pressure.
My thoughts are interrupted by the front door opening and closing.
I instantly jump up and speed walk over to it.
I see Blake tiredly walking in, his eyes half shut.
"Where the hell have you been, Blake? And why haven't you been answering my texts or calls?" I demand, crossing my arms.
His eyes slowly move up to look into mine and instantly, I'm met with his beautiful grey eyes that look somewhat different; tired, maybe.
I frown, confused.
"Who might you be?" He asks me slowly, eyeing my outfit, or my exposed skin.
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(a/n- hella cute tho, I want me a pair)
I frown deeper. His voice sounds... different. It still sounds like him but just different.
I can't put my finger on what it is.
Maybe he's drunk? That's probably it.
But he doesn't seem drunk.
But why would he be drunk on a weekday anyway? And why did he drink to the point where he forgot that I'm his wife?
"Your wife," I answer him, rolling my eyes. "I'm your wife, idiot."
