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spread her legs, hooking them on either side of his huge thighs before his
arm anchored her to his torso. He trailed his lips over her neck, lifting her
slightly and allowing her to sink onto his cock.
    Now it felt good. Different. Strange. But it was Niels.
The sensation of him inside her was as familiar and natural as breathing. He
began to move, slowly lifting and lowering her in slick motion that opened her
with each thrust. His thumb flicked against one peaked and tight nipple, and
she looked again at their reflection. The starkness of his golden-hued arm
against her rich, brown breasts, his reddened cock driving between her
buttocks, and just above the movements of his spike, her swollen and parted
pussy. She couldn’t help herself. The view forced her to reach over his hand
and catch her own clit between her fingertips and rub delicately.
    “Yes, touch yourself. You’re tightening around me
again…”
    She felt otherworldly, her body imploding from the
tips of her toes and a furnace in her buttocks. Her hands shook against her
clit, the little kiss of flesh burning to the touch, throbbing underneath her
fingers. He reared up, pushing harder into her and growling deeply against her
shoulder.
    The orgasm came like a volcano, from the very
depths of her belly and rumbled through her throat into a scream. Niels
followed her, thundering thrusts against her buttocks until she felt scorching
hot liquid pulsing into her body. The veins of his forearm strained beneath his
skin and he grunted her name several times.
    “You’re right,” he panted, slowly getting to his
feet and lifting her into his arms. “I do owe you.”
    “This…isn’t happening again.” Why couldn’t she speak? She sounded drunk.
    “Why ever not, Mrs. Strøm?”
    “I can’t feel my legs. Look, I’m shaking.”
    He carried her into the bathroom and sat her down
on the bidet. “Isn’t that a good thing? Means it wasn’t the Stephen King novel
it could have been?”
    Stella twisted her aching body around to allow the
water to flow. Still strange. Almost like the last part of her innocence had
been taken. Niels opened the shower cubicle and began running water. “Can you
come in or do you still need me to carry you?”
    She held out her arms to him. “You may carry me.”
    With a grin, he lifted her from the bidet and into
the shower. As the best husband in the world, he covered her hair with a cap
and then used her netted puff to clean her skin. “Thank you,” he murmured,
bending down to wash her feet.
    “Whatever for?”
    “Trusting me,” he replied, gently lifting one foot
and pressing his lips to her skin. At that moment, Stella had never felt more
loved, more honoured, more worshipped than she did with her husband kneeling at
her feet.

The Fight

Chapter Four
     
    Six months post-divorce
     
    Stella’s barrister leaned over and picked up her briefcase and removed
her papers. She’d never been to court in her life. For anything at all. Not a
parking ticket. Not a missed train fare and definitely not for speeding. But
she sat in a court waiting room, dressed in a black suit she’d bought a few
days before, waiting to justify why the children she’d given birth to should
live with her full time. Fucking Niels, hadn’t he taken enough from her? She’d
declared war on the house, so she supposed he’d go for her weak spot. The boys.
    How had her life come to this? She’d been in love. Successful. Made her
parents happy by giving them not one, but two boys to fuss and fight over.
She’d taken two holidays a year with her husband and she’d done her wifely duty
by him. What had been so wrong with how they’d lived their life that Niels
couldn’t bear it any longer? Couldn’t bear her?
    I can’t exist in a marriage where you endure me. You put
up with me. Life shouldn’t be like that. Our life wasn’t ever meant to be like that.
    God, she was going to be sick. She pressed a hand to her throat and
focused on what the