His Vengeful Tradwife

13. Tallulah

CHAPTER 13

Tallulah

I won , I thought as I looked at my husband's upturned face, misery and regret etched on every line.

He had been baffled and upset when I took his divorce announcement with a cool face.

Jealous and enraged when he realized I didn't need him. I could easily find other men who would adore me.

His big expected promotion was gone, he was probably going to get fired, he now loathed his former mistress, and he had to sit with the disappointment and anger from our parents.

And he was sitting in jail with a black eye, courtesy of the four professional volleyball players who would happily have followed me back home.

Now was the time to finalize my triumph, stomp my foot in Maverick Laurent's fucking face, and tell him to go to hell.

There were no terms or conditions that could possibly make up for what he had done.

So what was stopping me?

I should have been prepping the kids for weeks.

I didn't believe in staying together for the kids.

It would be hard. But it would be better that they have a happy mother.

But would it make me happy to divorce him?

My father-in-law had gone to get security to release Maverick from jail and there was no one around but my husband and me.

He was sorry, that was obvious.

He was sorry, he was beaten, he was desperate to have me back.

I had won all that. But it wasn't enough.

"I need something more than you being sorry," I said. "You claim you felt insecure because of how much money I make."

My big husband swallowed but he still met my eyes. "It's embarrassing," Maverick said, a slight flush on his cheek bones. "To think I let something like that come between us."

"Well, you have to prove it," I said. "Those are my conditions. For your entire life you've been the Maverick Laurent. Bigger than everyone else, richer than everyone else, smarter and more successful than everyone else. You have to prove you are OK with the fact that I am going to outearn and outpower you."

"I am," he assured me, clutching my legs tighter. "I promise I am."

"If you want another chance, I need something concrete from you," I said. "Something to prove that you aren't going to do this exact shit again if you don't get enough attention. For months you missed time with the kids and me. Why should I trust you again?"

Maverick raised his head from my shoe. "Anything you want, Tallulah. I'll do anything."

His eyes looked red-rimmed and shiny, his big arms still clutching me tightly, the marks of my buckle imprinted on his face.

"You and my mother have been quietly sneering at my job for years, haven't you?"

"No, God, I get it now, baby. I get it."

"If you want a second chance, you've got to prove it. I need an assistant. It's hard work and it's unpaid, and it's not glamorous."

He opened his mouth to agree, but I wasn't done.

"I'm not an idiot. I know you hate the chickens I love. This is something I'm good at, Maverick. Right now I've gotten 20 million followers who watch me collecting eggs, churning butter, baking bread, and weeding the garden. It's a dream of mine to get to 40 million followers. With that kind of money, I could upgrade my dad and stepmom into a new house, make sure the kids have enough money to go to college without debt if they want. I could--"

"I'll do it," Maverick interrupted. "I'll get you to 40 million viewers. Before school starts for the kids."

I considered this. That was over 20 million viewers in a little more than a month! It would double my current amount of followers, and likely more than double the amount of money I was bringing in, making the gap in our incomes even bigger.

It would flip the expected gender roles even further, and could make what he had struggled with even worse. But he was the one who had suggested it.

Was I doing the right thing?

Why keep Maverick at all? Why stay married?

Because I wanted to

I shook myself. Did I want Maverick to fail or succeed at his task?

But my mouth was already forming my response.

"Deal," I said.

We parted from the Drs. Laurent with plans to make another trip together next year.

"What about a trip to Australia?" my father-in-law enthused. "Gabriel and I would love to explore the unique rock formations there."

"Seraphina and I have been considering Paris," my mother-in-law objected. "She wants to shop along the Champs-élysées with me."

"Why not both?" Maverick put in and both his parents turned to glare at him.

" You should focus on those workbooks," his mother said tartly.

"Silence, you fool," his father added. "We are making plans with Tallulah and the children."

My husband gritted his teeth but had to fucking take it, and the rest of us parted on the best of terms.

We arrived back home to a beautifully-addressed notice of dismissal from Maverick's job. Apparently Mr. Perez had seen the news of my husband’s arrest. There was also a bouquet of flowers and a basket of gourmet cheese and wine from his boss as an apology for me.

"Worth it," said Maverick. "I wanted to fucking break their necks."

"If you don't get me to 40 million subscribers," I said, "Perhaps I'll share this gourmet wine and cheese with as many professional volleyball players as I can."

"Over my dead fucking body," Maverick said, glaring at me with narrowed eyes. "You are mine, Mrs. Laurent, and you will realize that right now unless you want your husband in jail for murder."

The very next day, Maverick was awake even before my early alarm.

"Let's go milk the cows," he said.

"I didn't think you'd want to start right away ," I replied, yawning since I was still on vacation time.

"I do," he said. "I don't want to delay our reconciliation a second further."

My stepmom was always here early to babysit while I filmed early morning content, so I threw on some overalls and a flowered blouse, put my hair in a messy bun, and we went out to the barn.

"Let's get this milk," Maverick said as he straddled the milking stool and grabbed for the udders.

Alarmed by the rough handling, Claribel mooed loudly and kicked over the milk bucket.

"Slow down there, champ," I said. "She isn't the opposing counsel in a courtroom. Let me show you how it's done."

Maverick listened closely, then bent over to do as I instructed, his face twisted in concentration.

"And what about recording you?" I asked slyly. "To be on my channel?"

He twisted around. "Of course."

"You're not afraid about any of your former coworkers or golf friends seeing you failing to milk a cow?" I asked.

Maverick shook his head. "No," he said.

"This is hard shit," he added after 45 minutes, when all his patience had managed to get him maybe 1/4th of an inch of milk in the bucket. "I can see today is going to be an object lesson on why I shouldn't have been such an arrogant ass to think any of this was easy."

"Even if it was easy, you were still a jackass," I said in response to his apology, because I'm not a perfect person.

When that was done, we moved on to churning butter.

Because I was nothing if not on-brand, I of course had an old-fashioned butter churning setup with a fancy aged wood churn and long handle for turning the heavy whipping cream into butter.

"I hope you've enjoyed that nasty store margarine," I put in.

His mouth twisted up and then that old easy banter between us was there again, just for a moment as he grinned at me. "Tallulah, you've so thoroughly bested me in every possible way. You've bested me down to the fucking nasty-ass margarine level. I'm fucking lucky you never went to law school and I had to face you in the courtroom, because you would have garroted me then too."

"Don't try to get around me with flattery," I said, but I felt a little tingle of pleasure.

"It's true," he said seriously, his big hands closing around the long stick of the butter churn. "I thought I knew you and I underestimated you. You're not just sweet and caring, you're also ruthlessly intelligent and brutal when you want to be."

"That's fucking right," I said. "Churn the butter."

"And it's hot, Mrs. Laurent," Maverick added, his dark eyes smoldering at me. "It's hot as fuck. I love this side of you. Even if it's at my own goddamn expense."

I said nothing, turning my phone to record as he began to churn the cream with slow, steady strokes.

Well, holy fuck , I thought as I watched him.

Maverick Laurent was wearing a tight gray T-shirt and jeans with big boots. He never wore jeans, and his eyebrows were drawn together in concentration as he stroked the big stick up and down.

Did I want my husband to fail or succeed?

I wanted him to succeed.

But I would keep by our bargain. He had to accept the role reversal, be OK with how much more money I made. Be OK with the fact that he was a jobless bum and I was the CEO of a thriving business. And he had to get me to 40 million subscribers like he claimed.

The muscles in his arms rippled tantalizingly as they moved in those slow, powerful strokes.

I felt drool begin to pool in my mouth.

That was how he had always pleasured me. Steady, powerful concentration, never stopping until he got what he wanted--my body trembling, pulsating around his cock as he growled in my ear that I was his.

Maverick braced his legs around the churn and began to pick up the pace, his powerful thighs straddling the wooden device.

I closed my lips so I wouldn't moan on livestream, dragging my eyes away with an effort to watch the views steadily ticking up, the comments exploding with ferocious ferality.

I had tagged the video "Morning chores with my husband," and Maverick had never been on my channel A Bit of Ginger before.

I began to wonder if 40 million subscribers wasn't possible after all as a trickle of delicious sweat ran down my husband's strong throat, his shoulders looking impossibly broad as his well-honed muscles flexed visibly under the shirt.

Then he looked up at me, his eyes so alight with warmth, crinkling up as he grinned at me.

"This butter better be goddamn good," he said, a lock of dark hair falling into his face.

Low heat pooled deep in my belly.

"I have some sourdough bread it will go perfectly with," I said coolly, trying to keep my voice steady.

This was not about my pussy

Once he was done with that, it was time to clean out the chicken coop.

And my husband put his head down and worked like a dog, week after week in the summer heat, on my farm.

I felt like I was edging myself into complete insanity by denying my desire for him.

"This is fun doing it together," Maverick said one evening as he yanked the silky strands from the fresh ears of corn we had just picked. Soon enough it would be time to carve a path through the stalks for a corn maze.

I wanted to bite out a sharp retort, like why the fuck didn't you ever come out and spend time with us then? Instead of spending your evenings working on some corporate case or fucking Amanda for the last six months?

But I said nothing, looking at the way the multi-colored ears fit together in the basket.

If I gave him a second chance, it would be a true one. I couldn't use remember when you had a mistress to win an argument.

Instead I rubbed my cheek on Emmylou's soft dark curls as she sat in my lap, Gabriel and Seraphina on the steps in front of us.

Damn, that would make some good easy content. Golden hour, the ears all piled together, our old hound dog in the background. I didn't use my kids for content, but just a picture of the corn against the wooden slats of the basket, the bright yellow glowing in the evening light, was positively majestic. Of course, if my recent views were any indication, including even a hint of my husband would mean a positive bonanza of likes.

However, I resisted. My channel was doing very well. I could afford to take more golden moments just for myself and not work so hard.

"Yeah, Dad, this is so fun!" Gabriel enthused.

Then Maverick spoke. "I'm sorry, son. I should have been doing this for a long time. I'm sorry to you too, Seraphina and Emmy. And to you, Tallulah," he said. "I'm sorry I was such a jackass and it's taken me this long."

"Why didn't you then?" Seraphina asked.

"I--made a mistake," Maverick said firmly. "You kids and your mom are the most important people in the world to me, and I made a mistake and didn't see that for a while, but I want to make it right."

There was a lump in my throat.

"OK, Dad!" Seraphina chirped. "You said sorry so it's fine."

"Sometimes it takes a little more," Maverick said, his eyes meeting mine as she crawled into his lap. "But I'm trying."

I said nothing, my throat closing.

Maverick Laurent was going to fulfill all the terms and conditions

And that meant I was faced with forgiving my cheating, lying husband.

Was I ready? What if it was a mistake?

Then I was suddenly saved from having to respond when the unmistakable, acrid scent of skunk hit my nostrils and Odie loped into view with a smug smile on his hound dog face.

"Move!" Maverick cried, hauling one kid under each arm as I charged up the steps with Emmy.

I slammed the door behind us and Maverick and I raced around the house shutting the windows as the kids shrieked with thrilled excitement.

Then the begging began to start when they realized we proposed to leave Odie outside overnight, and so of course Maverick and I had to go out there armed with a strong hose and cans of tomato soup.

And I could avoid thinking about the fact that I was about to forgive him.

No one would blame me for divorcing him. Not my friends, not any of Maverick's coworkers, not my dad or stepmom, definitely not his parents.

In fact, people would think I was a fool for forgiving him in the first place, nothing but a featherbrained idiot thinking with her pussy because Maverick Laurent was drop-dead sexy and magnetic.

I watched as Odie gradually became less odorific, and Maverick heaved a sigh of relief, running tomato-juice covered hands through his dark hair.

Then he turned to look at me. There were dark circles under his eyes and he looked tired.

"I think he'll be OK to sleep inside now," he said as the kids squealed with glee.

I still loved Maverick Laurent

I said nothing, but I knew it in my bones, felt it in my heart as he tossed Emmy in the air.

He was a good man. A good dad and a good husband, but he had made a relationship-ending mistake.

But here I was not ending it.

The next morning Dad came over to pick up the kids to take them to go watch movies and play games at his house.

"Hello, Tallulah. . .Maverick," he said coolly.

I saw Maverick's shoulders slump a bit.

Dad had always called him 'son' before.

I walked the kids to the car. I was in shorts and a T-shirt. Today was a day for weeding the garden, and soon I'd need to prepare the winter vegetables.

"Dad, would you think I was a batshit moron to take him back?" I asked once the kids were in the car.

He leaned back against the front door.

"Are you sure, honey?" he asked, his eyes kind and concerned.

There was a lump in my throat again.

"Yeah, dad, I'm pretty sure."

He looked a bit skeptical, his hands stroking his salt-and-pepper beard, but still pulled me into his arms. "I am behind you 100%. Your in-laws, however, might tell you very frankly that you can do better."

I laughed, wiping my eyes a bit. "I know I can. He was a bastard. He doesn't deny that. But I love that bastard."

Dad squeezed me tighter.

"I think he can come back from this," he said. "If you want him to. It's possible."

"Thank you," I said. "I love you."

"Love you too, Tallulah," Dad replied. "I'm so proud of you and will support whatever choice you make. I'll take the kids out for ice cream on the way home. Want me to bring you a cone?"

" Definitely ," I laughed.

Then I walked back toward the house and Maverick was waiting for me on the steps.

Tall, dark, impossibly broad shoulders and arms crossed over his massive chest.

We weeded for hours in the hot sun until I called a break just before noon, and we went inside for something to drink.

After guzzling down water, Maverick poured me a glass of lavender lemonade with extra ice and I flopped down on the sofa.

"Fucking boiling out there," I said, resting the cool glass on my forehead.

I didn't realize I had sprawled on the couch so that my thighs were spread open, and Maverick was looking at me with dark, feral eyes.

"I want you so badly," he said. "Fucking please . It's been so long and you don't know how much I fucking crave you all day and night. I can't stand being near you all the time but not allowed to touch you."

"Maybe I should call Austin," I said, my heart hammering in my chest.

When was the last time we had been alone in the middle of the day at home with the kids away?

"The fuck you will," Maverick growled, stalking over to me and grabbing the drink out of my hand. He bent over me, curving his hand around the back of my neck and pulled me closer.

He was sticky and warm, caked with dirt and sweat, and I felt something deep in my belly uncoil and begin to boil.

"You're mine, Tallulah Laurent. You have my name. You bear my children. No one can fuck you like I can."

"I can change my name," I said, but I felt a full-body shiver wrack my whole body as his lips descended to mine, my big angry husband caging me in on the couch.

He was heat and fire, and I opened my lips and let him in, his tongue plunging into my mouth, mastering me in the way I loved.

My husband's hands tightened in my hair and his fingers were all over me as my body hummed with his closeness.

Then they were on the hem of my shorts, ripping at the buckle and zipper.

“ Yes ,” he groaned. “Your body drives me mad, Tallulah.”

Maverick tore my shorts off and ran hard fingers down my belly, tightening his other hand on the back of my neck as he curled big fingers into my wet heat.

"Mine," he hissed in my ear. "Always mine."

"We'll see about that," I said, but I tipped my hips up greedily and moaned as he yanked his cock out and sunk it deep inside me.

Then I was tearing at his shirt, pulling it off his sticky back, pulling his hair, having to admit I wanted him closer.

"I love you," Maverick said, and I felt every ridge of his big cock as it stroked inside my slick and needy pussy. "I can't live without you."

He took me hard and fast, our hands and tongues tangling and my lips feeling sore and swollen with how deeply he kissed me, how he ravished me, filled me with instant flaming need.

"Come for me, Tallulah," Maverick ordered, one hand tangling tighter in my hair, the other on the small of my back, pressing me tighter, closer, until our flesh was slick and heated together.

There had never been any question when it came to his power over my body.

His hips rolled with that intoxicating irresistible power, his hand on my back making sure I was tipped up in exactly the position he knew would put pressure on my clit.

And I knew there was no way around it. I would never be satisfied with anyone but my husband.

I came undone under him, the pleasure bursting in shards of exquisite sensation, my pussy tightening around him as he bent down, not gently at all, to bite my neck and make my eyes roll back in my head.

Then he fucked me through my orgasm until my toes curled and my hands dug into his skin as he pumped his release into me, his cock so big I could feel each twitch of his hot cum.

I lay on the couch, having to come back to reality slowly, my eyes blinking open as my husband stroked my hair and ran his tongue down the deep curves of my cleavage, eagerly licking up each heated drop.

“I love you. . .I love you,” he whispered over and over.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door.

"Well, who the fuck is that?" Maverick growled. "I want to take you again."

"Maybe something happened with the kids," I gasped, stumbling to my feet.

He caught me before I fell, his strong arm around my waist as he whispered in my ear, "I'm going to take you just like that again. And over and over again. . ."

Before we could make it to the door, it burst open.

"Hello, darling," my mother said, brushing past us. "Now what's all this I hear about you driving away my darling son-in-law Maverick?"