Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 88182 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88182 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
I find Deanna hunched over the table. Light spills from the large back windows. It nestles in her long, dark hair, and I’ve never noticed the auburn highlights before, and the way it waves down to the edges. I never noticed the turn of her chin, the quick of her lips, that sexy-and-angry look she’s giving me—
“What?” she asks. “You’re staring at me.”
“Your shirt’s on backward.” I walk over and join her as she quickly checks to make sure I’m lying.
“Real mature.” She spreads the papers in front of her and nudges a few toward me. “Are you ready to be a grown up now?”
“What’s all this?” I pick one up and start to read. This Prenuptial Agreement is made and entered into this __ day of __, 2026, by and between Prime Spadaro (“Prospective Husband”) and Deanna Esposito (“Prospective Wife”), collectively referred to herein as the “Parties.” WHEREAS, the Parties contemplate marriage… and on and on, an avalanche of legalese that manages to make my life sound maximally boring and unsexy.
“This is protection.” She frowns, clicks a pen, and makes a mark. “Read it.”
“No thanks.” I brush the page aside. “Sounds terrible.”
“Prime, this isn’t a joke. It’s a serious, legally binding prenuptial agreement.”
“Aren’t we supposed to sign that before we get married? I seem to remember kissing you in front of a priest.”
“Yeah, I seem to remember a room full of pissed off people watching a murder happen in real time too.” Deanna chews the nub of her pen. “Look, seriously, can you please read it? I don’t want you whining to a judge in ten years about how I forced you to sign at gunpoint or something crazy.”
“I wouldn’t do that.”
“Maybe not but still, it’s for both our protection.”
“My word’s my bond. You know what the deal is. Write this monstrosity however you want. Fuck me over if that’s what you’re into.”
She stops biting the pen. “I’d never.”
“I didn’t think you would.” I put my hand on her lower back. “I’m not reading it.” I walk to the kitchen in search of something to eat, but as always, Deanna follows.
“Ahem. Schedule A — Spousal and Familial Support. This is the good stuff, Prime, so please pay attention.”
“I’m not listening.”
“For the duration of the marriage and continuing thereafter without regard to divorce, separation, or the death of the Husband,—“
“Wait a second. I’m paying for your shit even from the grave?”
“Damn right. The Husband shall provide for the full financial maintenance of the Wife and of her parents, Rosa and Vincent Esposito, including but not limited to housing, medical and long-term care, and all reasonable living expenses—“
I cut her off again. “Hold on. That reasonable living expenses language is pretty vague.”
“No kidding.” Her eyebrows arch. “I thought you trusted me?”
“I do trust you,” I snarl, walking toward her. She dances out of my grasp as I try to take the paper from her hand. “But I’m also not paying for your yearly trips to Bali.”
“Oh, I like that. I should add in a vacation subclause.” She hurriedly scribbles as she keeps moving from my reach.
“Deanna, darling flower, I fucking swear—“
“It keeps going. —for so long as each of them shall live. This obligation shall survive the termination of the marriage by any cause and shall be binding upon the Husband’s estate, heirs, and assigns. How’s that sound?”
“Sounds like you’re saddling my kids with this shit.”
“Pretty much.” She pretends to pout. “Or do you mean our kids?”
I stop chasing her. My pulse rockets at the idea of thrusting deep between her legs, fucking roughly into that tight, heaven-tasting pussy of hers and coming with a roar.
“I want to add some wording to that stupid thing.”
“Awesome. This is what we’re here for.” She returns to the table and sits down, her back straight, and finds some space on the documents. “Go ahead, I’m listening.”
I clear my throat and try to summon the best lawyer-bullshit language I can come up with. “The Husband reserves exclusive rights to the Wife’s tight, beautiful pussy, at all times, in all circumstances—“
“Prime!”
“And the Husband retains the ability to use said pussy for whatever carnal, sinful, beautiful, and otherwise incredible gratifications as he sees fit.”
“I’m not writing that.”
“I have more, don’t worry.” I start pacing, getting into it now. “In event of any disagreement, the Husband requires all fights to end with sweaty, filthy, scream-filled fucking, including sloppy oral sex on the Wife or the Husband, or ideally both at the same time, as benefits each in the Party.”
Deanna’s mouth falls open. “Sloppy oral sex?”
“The Husband requires the Wife to suck, drool, lick, slurp, and otherwise orally please him, and will repay in kind at least three—no, five times per week. The Husband prefers to fill the wife’s pussy with a large, realistic toy—“
“Toys?!”
“While she sucks his cock and moans with his dick deep down her throat.” I loom over her, smirking. “Shouldn’t you be taking notes, darling?”