Governing the She-Devil

6 Too Much for Pretend

"Why did you take off my clothes? Did something happen?"

Sandro opened his left eye, trying to orient himself with what was happening around him. He was awakened by her violent pushing and loud voice. The dawn had not broken yet. "You didn't even bother to cover yourself," he said as he watched her sitting upright, half-naked. "And no, you did that yourself."

Her cheeks grew bright red, but she couldn't let him affect her this way. "Why? Not enjoying the view?" she teased, gathering all the courage she had left, as she arched her back more. It seems like the alcohol hasn't gone down yet.

Her action was the fuel to Sandro's thinning patience. In one big swoop, he carried her atop him. He sucked her apple-red lips, nibbling at the bottom. A soft gasp escaped her lips. He would not let her go this time. Enough of her teasing.

His hand supported her back as the other started roaming towards her beautiful mounds. It was perfect. His mouth soon travelled down her neck, occasionally leaving some marks claiming her his. Once he found peaks, it earned him a moan from her lips. "Sands," she gasped.

His newly given nickname added fuel to the fire he was feeling. "I want you," he almost pleaded, trying to gain consent. If he did not ask, it would be too late to stop.

"Take me." Saint's soft voice was almost inaudible, but it made his heart run in adrenaline. Sandro immediately changed their position. He was now on top of her, expertly taking her trousers off. "I'll punish you, little minx."

His body towered on top of her. His body mass was enough to cover her whole body. Her petite stature looked so small compared to his six-foot-three muscular frame, so he moved with a lot of caution.

Their bodies writhe in pleasure. They spent the hours before dawn tangled in each others arms. Sandro did not show mercy this time, he took his time and the opportunity to let Saint know how much he wanted her.

A splitting headache and bodyache slapped her consciousness once she opened her eyes. Her face grimaced as she tried sitting upright. "What happened?"

Like a bomb, recollections of yesterday exploded right before her eyes. She looked down at her nakedness and covered her mouth in shock. "What have I done?"

A breeze from the open window caught her. She shivered and went back under the duvet. That was when she realized that she had a fever. That explains the pain she was feeling. She closed her eyes and tried to sleep through her fever.

Sandro was dressed in his lounge pants and white t-shirt with a bowl of water in his hand. He went directly to the bedroom to check on his wife. He woke up minutes ago, only to find her shivering. Her skin felt hot under his touch. Literally hot this time.

He softly touched her forward. She felt the calming sensation and opened her eyes. Their eyes met. "Take this medicine, you'll feel better afterwards."

"No work today?" she curiously asked before taking the pill from him.

"I'll work from home. Someone needs to take care of you." She felt weird that his words did not carry any negative feelings.

"I can take care of myself. You can leave me now that I've taken some medicine." It's just fever after all. It's not as if she lost her arm or leg.

"I'll stay. Let me know anything you need." He took the towel from the basin of water and squeezed the excess water out. He then pushed the duvet aside and started damping the towel on her skin.

"What are you doing?" She raised her brow at his sudden action. How dare he freely touch her bare skin?

"This will help cool your body off," he said without paying her any attention. He put all his focus on wiping her skin. He could almost feel the heat coming out of her body.

"You're taking advantage of me. Can't you see that I'm naked?" she asked, half-angry.

Sandro stopped and looked her seriously in the eyes. "I tasted every part of you last night. Every curve of your body is embedded in my mind. No clothes will make me forget that, so let me help you now."

Embarassment flooded her being. Is she assuming things? In the end, she decided not to talk and just let him do what he should. Sandro helped her wear an oversized shirt without bothering to give her any undergarment.

Saint took another nap. She woke up around five in the evening feeling better than before. Her eyes lingered on the man who was reading pages of papers not far from her. It seems like Sandro took all his work home just to be with her.

"You're awake. How do you feel?" He immediately dropped the papers on his table and walked towards the bed.

"Better," she answered as she tried her best to sit upright. He held her on her waist and positioned her properly against the headboard. "Why are you doing this?" she inquired.

They were not normal married people. They both married each other for reasons, and she expects their marriage to end with divorce after they run out of purpose in each other's life.

"You're my wife." She tried reading what his eyes said, but she couldn't decipher what the beautiful obsidian orbs said.

"We're pretending," she retorted flatly. There was no need to invest in this relationship.

"Okay then. I'm taking care of you because you had a fever as your body's response to exhaustion due to what we did last night." Of course, it was a lame excuse, but partly true. He kind of let himself go wild with her. Also, he didn't know how to keep the conversation going. One second, she was asking him to take her. Now, she was clearly pushing him away.

After seconds of awkward silence, he stood up and walked towards the door. "I'll get you dinner."