You are My Wife Now Nikita Mirzani 2

Nikita Mirzani sighed. Xander had been her eighth lover, although he’d been her first for a few of the more esoteric sexual practices most fairly adventurous couples enjoyed on occasion: back-door sex, light bondage, the occasional pearl necklace.

Yet the timeless experience she longed for—a first night of profound erotic transformation in the arms of the man she loved deeply—was a pleasure she could never know.

“Hey.” Startled from her Victorian era reverie, she looked up to meet her fiancé’s twinkling blue eyes.

“Good morning, Mr. Xander. You look happy.”

“I am. Today’s the happiest day of my life.”

“Why?” Nikita Mirzani asked. Still half-lost in her musings, she was genuinely surprised by his answer.

“Silly. Because I’m marrying the most wonderful, beautiful woman in the whole world.”

Oh, right, speaking of our wedding…

“Aunt Nikita Mirzani!” Elena’s four-year-old daughter, Madison, burst into the room and rushed over to the bed. “You’re getting married today.”

“We are. And you’re going to be the best flower girl ever,” Xander said in the perfect avuncular tone, warm but not condescending. He’d be a great father, Nikita Mirzani thought with a pang of regret.

“My dress is so pretty. I can’t wait to see yours.” The little girl was starting to crawl in bed with them when Elena appeared and led her daughter back toward the guest room.

She gave Nikita Mirzani a sly look. “I hope she didn’t disturb you. By the way, Mom and Dad said they’d come over from the hotel by eight. The appointment with the hairdresser is at nine, right?”

“Yeah,” Nikita Mirzani said weakly, that now-familiar dread closing around her ribcage like a corset. She might not be a real Victorian bride, but apparently her sex life was still to be molded by forces beyond her control.

If she was making a terrible mistake, it was too late to turn back now.

The day went by so fast, Nikita Mirzani almost forgot she was making a mistake. The wedding ceremony in the garden brought her to tears, but not because she was depressed about the upcoming drought in her bedroom.

There was something strangely moving about declaring her love for Xander in front of so many beaming, overdressed people who really seemed to wish them the best in their life together. With the whirl of the reception and the after-party back at the house, the day slipped into evening.

It was six o’clock before they managed to drive off to the charming bed-and-breakfast they’d booked for the first night of their honeymoon.

Only then, when Xander scooped her up and carried her over the threshold of their wine country cottage, did she remember this night was the beginning of the end of her erotic life.

Yet, far from being tired or disinterested, Xander immediately deposited her, with a meaningful wink, right in the middle of the four-poster bed. Then he stretched out beside her, pulling her close. “I’ve been looking forward to this part of the ceremony all day.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to turn in early? We have the rest of our lives to perform our marital duty.”

“Hell, no, not when you made me hold off for a whole week,” he blurted out, then remembered his manners. “Sorry, sweetie, I know you didn’t sleep so well last night. If you want to go to bed early, it’s okay with me,” he lied politely.

Although she’d hardly slept, eaten, or drunk anything in the past twenty-four hours, Nikita Mirzani’s body was tingling with a strange excitement. “Well, we’re supposed to consummate the marriage as quickly as possible—to make it legal.”

Xander frowned. “Speaking of the proper formalities, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Nikita Mirzani’s pulse leaped. The ink on the marriage license was barely dry and things were going sour already. “What is it, honey?”

“I was looking at that checklist from your bride guide this morning, and it said I was supposed to buy you a wedding gift. Pearls or something. I didn’t get anything, but if there’s something you want…”

“I didn’t get you anything either. They recommended cufflinks or a watch for you. Very 1950s.” She turned and cupped her hand around the erection tenting his khakis. “But this is something I wouldn’t mind getting all wrapped up with a bow.”

“It’s all yours. If I can have this.” He slipped his hand under her going-away skirt and patted her mons. “I promise I’ll take very good care of it.”

She laughed. “It’s a deal.”

Xander’s fingers began to stroke her through her panties.

“Of course, in the old days, you would have owned me,” she murmured, her legs falling open. “And I’d have come to you a virgin. This would be the very first time we did anything but hold hands.”

“If this were the first time I was touching you, I’d probably come in my pants just doing this,” Xander said softly. With his free hand, he reached over and began unbuttoning her blouse.

“But you wouldn’t be a virgin. Your uncle would have taken you to a house of ill repute to break you in. So you could break me in.”

“I didn’t know you were such an old-fashioned girl at heart.” Xander finished with the buttons and eased the blouse over her shoulders. Was she imagining a new possessiveness in his touch?

“I’m glad I’m not a virgin,” she continued, “but there’s still something sexy about having your wedding night be the first time.”

He hooked a hand around her bare shoulder and pulled her body toward him, coaxing her to straddle his belly. Unsnapping her bra with an expert hand, he pulled it down over her arms. The steely gleam in his eyes as he stared at her naked breasts was definitely new.

“I’m glad it’s not our first time,” he said.


Xander looked her straight in the eye, and for an instant Nikita Mirzani did feel possessed, owned. Yet at the same time her body was strangely free and buoyant.

“Because I know you’re going to enjoy it,” he said firmly. “I know I’m going to make you come.”

“Oh, god,” she whispered, a hot wave of arousal fanning up from her pussy up through her chest. Then she cried out again, “Oh, god, sorry about that.”


“This has never happened before. I sort of, well, flooded my panties. I’m just so…turned on. The way you’re talking…”