Chapter 1- New Beginnings

I grip the steering wheel a little tighter as my mind wanders, thoughts drifting to the milestone we are about to reach.

Our first real home together.

Not just another generic rental, but a place that’s truly ours. A space we can mold and grow into, just like our marriage. It’s a heady feeling, this mix of excitement and nerves fluttering in my stomach.

The New York cityscape whizzes by outside the car windows, all towering skyscrapers and bustling sidewalks, but I’m only half paying attention. I’m too busy marveling at how far we have come. It seems like just yesterday we were bright-eyed college kids, falling head over heels at first sight in some frat house basement.

My mind flashes back to those early days, right after college, when I was crazy enough to start my own financial firm. I was a kid in an ill-fitting suit, trying to swim with the Wall Street sharks. Everyone thought I was nuts, that I’d fall flat on my face.

Everyone except my wife.

She never doubted me for a second. Even when we were barely scraping by, living off ramen and the occasional parental handout. She always believed in me, in us, in the future we were building together.

And now here we are. Twenty-young professionals, married and moving on up in the world. My firm is thriving, our bank account is finally in the black, and we’re moving into a place that most New Yorkers would kill for.

My gaze slides over to the passenger seat and I feel a familiar warmth bloom in my chest. Even dressed down in leggings and a simple tank top for moving day, my wife is an absolute knockout. The late afternoon sun filtering through the windshield paints her in a golden glow, making her long brown hair shimmer and her porcelain skin luminous. She’s fiddling absently with the ends of her silky locks, brow furrowed adorably as she triple checks our new address on her phone.

Fuck, she’s cute when she’s all focused like that.

Of course, “cute” isn’t the only word I’d use to describe Emma. My eyes drift lower, tracking over her mouthwatering curves with an appreciative leer. She shifts in her seat and my pulse kicks up a notch as I catch a glimpse of her full, perfect tits straining against the flimsy fabric of her top. It should be illegal to have an hourglass figure that rockin’, I swear to god. And don’t even get me started on that ass...

As if sensing my randy train of thought, Emma suddenly glances up from her phone, catching me staring. Her rosebud lips quirk into a knowing smirk and she arches a brow. “Earth to Mike ... you still with me, space cadet?”

I jolt slightly, feeling a bit like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Or his eyes glued to his wife’s tits, as it were.

“Ah, yeah, sorry,” I stammer. “I was just, uh...”

“Ogling me?” Emma suggests impishly, smirk widening. “I know that look, mister.”

“Busted,” I admit with a sheepish grin. “In my defense, can you blame me? I mean, have you seen yourself? Total smokeshow, Em.”

She rolls her eyes fondly, swatting at my arm. “Oh, hush. Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“That’s not what you said last night,” I quip, waggling my eyebrows lecherously. “As I recall, a few choice compliments was all it took to get my face between those creamy thighs...”

Emma flushes, pale skin going pink at the memory. She presses her legs together with a little squirm and huffs. “Just drive you horn dog. We’re supposed to meet the leasing agent in twenty and I’d rather not be sporting sex hair for our first impression, ‘kay?”

“No promises,” I mutter, but I obediently turn my attention back to the road. My mind is still wandering though, flicking through sense memories of Emma splayed out in our bed last night, all flushed and panting as I feasted on her perfect pussy. The way her thighs trembled around my ears, her breathy little moans, the taste of her slick on my tongue...

I shift in my seat, trying to get comfortable as my khakis grow a bit tighter. Damn, when did I turn into such an insatiable lech? You’d think after being together for so long, the constant horniness would’ve died down. Guess that’s just further proof that I married the hottest girl on the planet.

I sneak another glance at Emma from the corner of my eye and my heart clenches with a sudden surge of emotion. How the hell did I get this lucky? Not just because she’s gorgeous, but because of who she is. Whip-smart, kind to a fault, goofy in the best ways. She’s been my rock through so many ups and downs - grueling semesters, shitty starter jobs, family drama. I couldn’t have made it this far without her.

A familiar road sign catches my eye and I perk up. Our exit is coming up and beyond that, our future. A future in the dream apartment we scrimped and saved for, in the city we’ve worked so hard to make it in. A future side by side with the love of my life.

I reach over to squeeze Emma’s hand, feeling her wedding band press into my palm. She looks up at me curiously and I just shake my head, throat suddenly a bit tight.

“I love you, Em” I murmur.

Her beautiful face softens and she lifts our joined hands to press a kiss to my knuckles. “I love you too, Mike. More than anything.”

I turn my attention back to the road, that stupid grin still plastered across my face. Emma slips her hand free of mine to fiddle with the radio, flipping through stations until she lands on some poppy top 40 hits. She cranks the volume and starts belting out the lyrics, deliberately off-key and goofy as hell.

The New York skyline looms larger through the windshield as we draw closer to our new ‘hood. A strange, giddy sort of anticipation zips through me.

This is really happening.

The elevator dings and the doors slide open, revealing a posh, tastefully decorated hallway. I let out a low whistle as Emma and I stepped out, rolling our suitcases behind us.

We make our way down the hall, double checking the apartment number on our key fob. 1502, 1502 ... ah, there it is. The door is already propped open and I can hear voices coming from inside. Must be the leasing agent and the movers.

Emma shoots me an excited grin as we cross the threshold into our new home. Our home. I don’t think that’s ever going to get old.

The next hour or so passes in a blur of signatures, handshakes, and final walk-throughs. The leasing agent is a perky blonde in a sharp pantsuit who keeps congratulating us on “snagging such a fab unit”. I’ve gotta hand it to her - the lady knows how to sell a lifestyle. By the time she breezes out, handing off our keys with a wink and a promise to be available “any time”, I half expect her to pop a bottle of champagne.