The Trophy Wife

By Matilda Martel

19-year-old Peyton Burns is on her second year at Yale when she meets the much older and very wealthy Angus Ross. Their connection is instant and when Angus divorces his estranged wife and marries her soon after, everyone assumes she's his young replacement Trophy Wife.

At first, she dismisses all the rumors about their marriage. They're happy and that's all that matters. Peyton becomes overwhelmed by her new husband's sexual prowess while Angus is crazy about her insatiable libido-- but after a year together and non-stop gossip, Peyton begins to wonder if she really is just meant to be a two-dimensional trophy- arm candy for her rich, older husband.

Madly in love and sexually dependent, poor Peyton has to make a decision that eventually might break her heart .

Warning: This 10,000+ word e-story contains explicit descriptions of sexual activity between an older man and a nineteen-year woman. It is intended for mature readers who will not be offended by graphic depictions of sex acts between consenting adults.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Matilda Martel
• Release date: Dec 30, 2018
• ISBN: 9781370103386

Matilda Martel

Matilda loves many things---her husband, dachshunds, cats, the two terrible Chihuahuas who live with her, Paris, New York, a few select friends and family, Nutella, books, lots and lots of books, and writing sweet, steamy romance for nerdy girls-- because that's who I am.If you like your romances steamy but sweet. Sexy, but on the shorter side. With smart and sassy heroines who fall for soulful Alphas- then you might like my books.I write A LOT of OMYW, cause that's just my bag. But no matter what kind of story it is, my ladies are always adored and my endings are always HEA.Please head to my blog: www.matildamartel.com, to learn what's in the final stages and will be coming out soon!Want a free Ebook? Join my mailing list to get my monthly newsletter at : www.matildamartel.com/mailinglist/

Book preview

Chapter 1

I’ve always led a pretty boring life. That’s not a complaint, it’s just a statement of fact. There’s nothing wrong with boring, really. I grew up in a nice suburb just outside New York to parents who gave me pretty much everything I needed—I wasn’t spoiled, I just don’t remember having to go without very much. Like I said, there is nothing wrong with boring. Most of my life was pretty much planned out as soon as I made my appearance 19 years ago in a small hospital in Westchester County. I went to a private Catholic school, followed by a prestigious private high school which was meant to ensure I was accepted into the family alma mater, Yale University. Both my parents attended Yale, and my grandfather and my great-grandfather and so on- I am a legacy. But my father would have considered it bad form if I didn’t have the grades to get in on my own merit—it would have been dishonorable. When I got my early acceptance letter, there was a huge sigh of relief at the dinner table and they happily went back to fussing over my younger brother.

The whole college experience was something that never appealed much to me. I truly just wanted to get in and get out as quickly as possible. I didn’t pledge to a ridiculous sorority, go binge drinking or go boy crazy from finally being let off of my short leash. After my first year, I was allowed to move off campus and my parents were so impressed with my grades they offered to help me get a place, but I declined. The dorms were fine. My one extracurricular activity had been to volunteer as a Resident Assistant to help incoming freshman get settled into campus life and living in housing made my job easier. It was this decision that would change my boring life forever.

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During Welcome Week, all R.A.s were assigned to different houses to help incoming freshman girls arriving with their parents get settled into their rooms. These were long days filled with anxious parents and excited girls who all eventually complained about the state of the old dorm rooms on the New Haven campus. Between fielding questions, listening to arrogant grumbles and trying to make each parent understand that I could not personally look after their daughter day in and day out, I was exhausted. I didn’t think it could get any worse, but on the last day of move-ins, a young girl arrived with her parents towards the end of my shift. Her name was Justine Kleber and she had an asterisk by her name. Anyone with an asterisk had already been pegged as difficult either because they had proven hard to handle earlier in the week or because they or their parents had been calling in their criticisms ahead of time. In Justine’s case, it was her mother, Mrs. Alice Kleber-Ross.

Justine arrived with her very tall, elegant mother wearing diamonds to help her daughter move in and a man introduced to me as Angus Ross, Justine’s stepfather. I knew him by name, his tech empire was notorious for swallowing up smaller companies and had driven a few of my father’s friend’s out of business. While I put on my happy face to welcome Justine and Mrs. Kleber-Ross, Mr. Ross slowly followed the ladies, staring curiously and hanging on every word I said. He was incredibly tall—I felt like a