The Wrong Wife by Maya Alden
Chapter 32
Esme
Istood in front of the mirror in Declan’s walk-in closet. It was huge, filled with his suits, clothes, and shoes. And it had a dressing area with mirrors on three walls. A woman had designed this space. Most probably the interior designer Viv had hired.
The dress was a dream. It was a strapless pink Rodarte gown with a tight bodice and a long chiffon skirt.
“It’s perfect for your petite frame,” Maria announced as she looked at me with appreciation.
The shoes were Miu Miu ballet flats also in the same rose pink as the gown—but the skirt was so long that no one would notice what I wore on my feet, and even if they did, the shoes were beautiful. This hadn’t come from Maria’s closet; I knew that. But once I put it on, I couldn’t make an issue out of it because I wanted Declan to see me. I’d never worn anything this beautiful or expensive in my life before.
Maria had decided to get dressed at Declan’s penthouse as well, and her hair and makeup person called themselves Chase and did marvelous things with makeup to primarily hide all my bruises. They also did something to my hair, which hung around my shoulders in soft waves.
“Now, go and impress Dec, and I’ll get ready. Mark is picking me up from here.” Maria ushered me out of the closet and gave me a tiny Chanel bag that matched the dress as I reached the door. It had enough room for my phone and ChapStick, which was all I needed.
I was nervous as I walked into the living room. I knew how Declan looked in a tuxedo and dreaded how unmatched we’d look. People would think he should’ve married Viv. They’d wonder what happened there. I’d heard the rumors and the media headlines.
Esme stole her sister’s love.
Is Esme Hartley nee Knight pregnant?
Who is Esme Knight? All the dirt from her high school boyfriend. (And I didn’t even have one!)
Trouble in paradise? Is Dec Knight back with Viv Hartley?
There was also a storyline about me being an alien—which amused me. The other headlines, not so much. One thing was clear, my family, his parents, and the media all thought that Declan and I were not suited for one another—and that he should return to the beautiful and adorable Viv.
There had been a whole story by an influencer about my weight. She’s so fat he has to roll her in flour to find the wet spot. I was five-three, and a size six. I was not heavy. I just wasn’t skinny. I worked out and stayed healthy, but next to the willowy Viv, I always looked like a hippo.
Declan was reading something on his iPad in the living room when I came to stand in front of him.
“Ta-da,” I said with all the fake cheer I could muster.
He looked up, and for a moment, nothing happened; he seemed frozen, and then slowly, he smiled. “You look lovely, sweetheart.” He set his iPad aside and rose to stand in front of me.
He bent his head and lifted my chin at the same time. “You always look beautiful, you know that?” he said as he brushed his lips against mine.
I pulled back. “I don’t know how to do lipstick properly, so this needs to stay, and they said it will as long as I don’t go about kissing or giving blow jobs.”
“They?” His eyes crinkled as they did when he was holding back laughter.
“Chase. The hair and makeup artist.”
“So, no blow job in the car for me?”
“You want one?” I asked.
His eyes went from amused to hot in an instant. “If you let me taste you, sweetheart, I’ll let you taste me. Is that a deal?”
“I can’t open my jaw too wide, or I’ll smear the lipstick,” I told him, then closed my eyes as I heard what I’d just said. “I say the dumbest things.”
He pulled me into his arms. “You smell delicious, like jasmine. And let’s rest your mouth until you completely heal. Now, your pussy, I can stretch wide, can’t I?”
I felt the heat pool between my legs. “Declan.”
“I love how you say my name when you’re aroused.” His lips feathered kisses across the jawline.
“How do I…say it?”
“Like you want me inside you.” He raised his head. “You feel well enough to let me taste you tonight?”
I didn’t know, but who the hell cared? “I do.”
“Good girl.” He set me aside and looked at me proudly. “Your eyes are so expressive.”
“And now both are open. Chase did a great job with the makeup. And that’s why my face is off limits to you.”
“I’ll miss kissing you…but maybe I’ll find other lips to satisfy me.”
I felt warmth rush into my cheeks.
“Are you wet, Esme? Wet for me?”
Declan put his hands on my hips and started to push my skirt up. He was delighted to find the slit and slipped his right hand under my dress as his left held me, his eyes boring into mine.
His fingers pushed my panties aside, and he groaned. “Esme.”
“Yes.” I swayed slightly.
“You’re so wet. So tight.”
It was too much—all of it. I closed my eyes.
“No, look at me when I make you come,” he commanded with his voice and fingers. He strummed my clit.
I was on painkillers; I’d had the crap beaten out of me. My nose still felt raw and sore. And, yet it didn’t seem to matter. He touched my pussy, and I was ready to go.
“Come for me.” His voice was hoarse—he was as aroused as me.
My glance fell to his crotch. His erection was pushing against his pants. I licked my lips at the thought of tasting him.
“Eyes up here,” he growled, and I looked into his eyes; they set me ablaze.
He pushed two then three fingers inside me, and then just as he touched my clit, several things happened—the elevator door opened, and Mark stepped into the penthouse; Maria walked into the living room in a gorgeous Givenchy red dress, and I came on a soft cry.