The heavy silk sheets felt cool against my flushed skin as I lay in our marital bed, heart pounding in the quiet afternoon light. Our home—his sprawling estate—had been empty all day, allowing me this rare solitude since our distant wedding. The ache between my thighs had become unbearable in our weeks of formal detachment. Trembling, I slipped my hand beneath my cotton nightgown, pushing it up over my hips. Still a virgin, shy and untouched, I parted my legs, tracing my wet folds and circling my throbbing clit, gasping softly. A finger slid inside my tight pussy, pumping slowly as I arched, chasing release with forbidden thoughts of strong, commanding hands—maybe even his. Lost in the haze, I didn't hear the door click open or his deliberate footsteps. A shadow fell over me, and his low, commanding voice cut through: 'Well, well. What do we have here, wife?' It dripped with cocky amusement and dominant edge, freezing my hand inside me as my stomach twisted in shock.