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Apparently, she saw this as a carte blanche invitation to restock my closet and become my new full-time stylist. I was skeptical when she called her husband Huck to come drive us to the store, but he dutifully turned up twenty minutes later and took me, Cora, Betty, and Bonnie down into town like it was a perfectly normal request at nine p.m..
When I tried to pay for the bags and bags of clothes she helped me pick, Cora waved my credit card away and told me Oz had already taken care of it. The same way he takes care of every single need I have. We grocery shop together when he’s off shift, but then he arranges for the store to deliver fresh food to me whenever he’s not here to drive me to town.
He called ahead and covered the bill for the girls’ dinner James, Tori, and I went to three days ago, and he even arranged for the restaurant to surprise me with my favorite dessert after I mentioned how much I loved blackout cake.
When we’re together, he’s attentive, sweet, and filthy all at once, and honestly, I’m amazed I’m not bowlegged from how much sex we have.
The tattoo studio is almost finished, and I’ve started the preliminary marketing strategies to promote the opening, as well as taking on some marketing work for both Tori’s patisserie and Cora’s clothing store. Granger and Alice have also asked if I’d be interested in doing some freelance work to build his online profile for the beautiful bespoke furniture he builds.
My life here is…good. Great even. I have a husband I love, great friends, an awesome new job, and a fresh start in a place that truly does feel like home. There’re only two dark spots in my otherwise bright world. The first is that Octy isn’t here yet. Despite us video chatting on a daily basis, the issues with her landlord have escalated, and right now, she’s staying with her and Betty’s old boss Suede and his husband Johnny because her landlord is refusing to allow her access to remove her belongings from her apartment.
Oz offered to round up the guys and go speak to her landlord, but right now Octy is holding out hope that the landlord will back down and let her get her stuff and refund the damage deposit she put down when she moved in.
The second blight on my newly discovered bliss is my mother. Prior to my move to Montana, I’d have called our relationship cordial. We speak on the phone once or twice a month, exchange pleasantries, and then do it all again a few weeks later. But since I moved to Rockhead Point and into Oz’s house with him, it’s like she’s suddenly become much more interested in me and my life. I wouldn’t want to call my mom weak-willed, because she’s not. What she is is resourceful to the point where it’s almost simply self-serving. As a kid, I could always tell when she met a new guy because her dress, hair, makeup, and hobbies would change to suit the new man’s preferences. When she met Bruce, she became what she thought he wanted her to be, which was a preppy little Stepford wife. The perfect Suzy Homemaker.
She’s played the part for so long now, I think it’s genuinely who she is with her husband and the children they share, but to me, it’s always felt a little forced. Bruce has always had a weekly phone call with Oz, and now that we’re living together and she’s been reminded weekly how often her husband and stepson speak, it feels like she’s copying Bruce and trying to recreate the contact he has with his son, with me.
Despite speaking to her more in the month since I came to Montana than I have since we lived in the same house, I still haven’t told any of my family about mine and Oz’s relationship or that we got married. Oz has no intention of telling his dad, and honestly, he doesn’t understand why I’d tell my mom or my brothers and sister. But not telling them feels like we’re keeping our relationship a secret because we’re ashamed of it.
Despite our unconventional relationship, I’ve gotten past the idea that our parents being married makes us getting married wrong. We’ve never lived, acted, or felt like siblings, and just because our parents are in a relationship and share children, doesn’t have any impact on the way Oz and I feel about each other.
Despite our far-from-auspicious start, the longer I spend with Oz, the more I distance his behavior in the past with the man he is now. I haven’t exactly forgiven him for everything he did to me when we were children, but I’ve allowed myself to let go of a lot of the anger and resentment I was feeling.
On several occasions, Oz has asked me to tell him the extent of his bullying, but I haven’t. It feels almost childish to drag the past into our happy present, and even without knowing all the details, he’s already made up for a lot of the hurt and pain he caused me.
Tonight is his last night on shift, and he’ll be back in the morning. To say I’m excited to see him would be an understatement. I never thought I’d be the girl who missed their husband when he wasn’t around, but apparently, I am. The girls are a great distraction, but when he’s not here, he’s never far from my thoughts.
His rule that I’m not allowed to touch my pussy when he’s not around is still in force, and my body is needy and desperate for the intimacy only he can provide after four long days without him.
After showering and getting ready for bed, I slip beneath the sheets naked and am almost too excited to sleep. Forcing myself to close my eyes, I remind myself over and over that by the time I wake up, he’ll be here, but it still takes me too long to fall asleep.
“Good morning, wife,” he whispers into my ear, his huge, warm body cradling mine from behind.
“You’re here,” I breathe, pulling out of his arms so I can roll over and face him. “I missed you,” I confess.
“I always miss you.” His lips find mine a moment before I climb on top of him, straddling his waist and his hard dick.
“Oh, it’s like that, is it?” he asks with a smirk as he grabs my ass and grinds me against his hard length.
“I need you,” I whimper, rolling my hips until his dick is positioned at my entrance.
“You’ll always need me,” he promises, burying his dick in me in one satisfying thrust. “Ride me, Little One, use my cock to make yourself come.” His words sound amused but are full of quiet demand that I’m incapable of ignoring.
Instead of his controlling nature settling now that we’re a few weeks into our relationship, he’s somehow gotten more demanding and dominant. When he found out that Buck likes to have food delivered for his wife James, he started doing the same, and now most of the time, meals appear at the door at least once a day when he’s not here to cook for me.
He hasn’t mentioned me giving up my job again, but instead he makes a point of asking me how my day is looking each morning and then ensuring I don’t get lost in my work. The most up-to-date models of my cell phone and laptop were mysteriously delivered to the house one day, as well as a huge curved monitor that I mentioned I’d love to be able to afford.
Anything I smile at, admire, or talk about is suddenly waiting for me on the doorstep, and I have to be careful not to mention I need something because he buys it for me before I have a chance to get it for myself.
He’s spoiling me, and I wish I could say I hate it, but I don’t. I wouldn’t care if he stopped buying me stuff, I don’t need any of the things he’s bought me. But he’s spoiling me with time, attention, and praise, and my mind, body, and soul are lapping it up like an addict.
“Oz,” I whine as I struggle to find a rhythm.
“You’re doing fine, baby, keep going,” he assures me, sensing that I’m starting to get a little anxious. This is only the second time he’s let me go on top. The first time, he lifted me onto his dick, then used me to fuck himself, lifting me on and off his length like a sex doll.
This time, I’d needed to be closer than I was, but now that my pussy is stretched around his cock, I’m second-guessing my ability to ride him without his help.
“Please,” I beg, tentatively lifting up, then sinking back down onto him.
