The CEO's Contractual Wife

Lunch was a seafood feast, featuring fresh grilled fish, shrimp skewers, and an array of tropical fruits and vegetables. We ate in companionable silence for a few minutes before Alexander spoke.

“So, what would you like to do this afternoon? We could explore the island, go snorkeling, or…” he paused meaningfully, “stay

in.”

“Exploring sounds nice,” I said quickly, not trusting myself to be alone in the house with him.

“Exploring it is.” He didn’t look disappointed. If anything, his smile suggested he was enjoying the chase.

After lunch, Alexander gave me a tour of the island, showing me hidden coves and pristine beaches accessible only on foot. The property was massive, with trails winding through lush tropical forest and along dramatic cliffs.

By late afternoon, we’d made our way back to the main house, where Miguel had prepared dinner to be served at sunset. The meal was spectacular, lobster and filet mignon, paired with expensive wines that Alexander insisted I try.

“To us,” he said, raising his glass. “And our unconventional marriage.”

I clinked my glass against his. “Unconventional indeed.”

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in brilliant oranges and pinks, Alexander suggested we move to the outdoor lounge area where plush couches surrounded a fire pit.

“This is ridiculous,” I said as we settled onto a couch. “Who needs a fire pit on a tropical island?”

“It gets cooler at night than you’d expect,” he replied, pouring us each a glass of aged scotch. “Besides, there’s something primal about fire. It brings people together.”

I took a sip of the scotch, wincing slightly at the burn. “This is expensive, isn’t it?”

“Very. Twenty–five–year–old Macallan.”

is.” I took another sip, appreciating the complex flavors more this

back, stretching his arm along the back of the couch behind me. “We get back to our lives as husband and wife. We’ll be staying

just stay like this for a while, play the perfect wife until he got his controlling stake from his grandfather, then

Alexander asked, his fingers brushing against my shoulder where his

alcohol burned, but it was nothing compared to the fire his touch

crease right here when you’re thinking hard.” His finger traced a line between my

scotch,” I said, setting down my empty

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Chapter 94

to cup my cheek. “Or maybe

caught. “I don’t

I touched your tits. The way your pussy got wet when I kissed you.” His thumb traced my lower lip. The way you wanted me to fuck you right

my voice came out

I?” He leaned closer, his lips just inches from mine. “Then why are your nipples hard

My body was betraying me completely, responding to his proximity like

fire’s warm,”

mouth claimed mine before

from the others. It was slower and more deliberate. His tongue swept into my mouth, tasting of expensive scotch and

it,” he murmured against

sundress, his thumb brushing over my peaked nipple. I arched into

my breast harder. “I love how your tits

pinched my nipple through