Clingy Husband Novels & Stories

He was wearing a white shirt and black suit pants, he was still so good-looking, his aura, elegant. When he saw me, his eyes darkened. My fist clenched and I reminded myself not to appear weak in front of him. I guess we were back on the hating game. This time, I needed to hate him too so I could finally move on from him. “Long time no see, my husband.”I teased, sarcastically. He glared at me. “Don’t call me that.” And then he looked sideways. I followed the direction of his eyes to see the woman dressed in a white dress walk slowly to stand beside him.

For the past eight years, Clary has been lying to herself if she says that she doesn't love or doesn't have a feeling towards Damon. "I love you too, my dear husband; I have been yours since the day we got married; then how about doing it now? It's... you know more than a month has passed, and you have never touched. I miss you so much. I want you. I want my dear husband to satisfy me. I know you want me too; the feeling is mutual." Clary stuttered, blushed, and looked away shyly. She has never said such a thing, and today she took the initiative to shamelessly say such words! It's so embarrassing! Being so needy and presenting herself in front of her beast husband.

With that, I turned around and dialed the number for the police. “Officer, I want to report a crime! My husband transferred my premarital assets without my consent to his mistress!” “I suspect they are plotting something!”

She walked into the office looking as elegant as ever and as usual, her husband's office was top notch. " I missed you baby" he said as he immediately walked up to her and pulled her to an embrace. " Silly, we just saw each other a few hours ago," she replied, smiling. " I know wife, I just missed your scent" he said as he put his head on her shoulders. " Why are you clingy today hubby?". " I should do that once in a while right?" He asked, leading her to sit on the sofa. " You look just like a little kid".

Before she stepped out of the bathroom. She saw her husband sitting at the edge of their bed, shirtless, his arms were supporting his weight. When he noticed her stares, he looked up at her before he seductively walked towards her like a Greek model. Ah, her sly husband, using his charm again. Clinton slightly bent over to the side of her neck so that he could smell her scent. "Hmmm..my wife is so odorous, it's arousing me again," Clinton whispered with a low and deep voice.

She went to hug him but he ended up kissing her instead. “Klyde, no. Klay’s here.” She reminded him and the man groaned. “How are you feeling?” He began to be concerned. “I feel great. I’ve been feeling different lately, so I checked. It’s not bad, though. Just… getting more sleepy and easily tired. Eating more.” Her husband sighed and encircled her waist with his arms. “How about touching? Do you dislike this?” One hand began to creep inside her blouse, up her spine.

I’m not some voyeur into multi-partner arrangements—especially not when the man in the scene is my own husband. I don’t know how the other trophy wives of billionaires manage it. But me? I can’t stay that calm. If not for my current predicament, I swear I’d dump scalding coffee right onto that bastard’s dick. I coughed again. My husband, Cary, finally lifted his handsome face from the woman’s overflowing cleavage (seriously, how was he not suffocating?) and glared at me. “Didn’t anyone teach you to knock?” he growled, voice sharp with irritation.

Clyde flew into a rage, like it was the most ridiculous thing he heard. Cronous scoffed. “What did you expect to happen? Let her stay married to a loser?” “I am not divorcing my fucking wife. She's MINE. Everything's been going fine until you showed up. You might've become a little richer but you shouldn't be so cocky,” Clyde uttered with much disdain but Cronous merely laughed loudly.

Shame and anger mix together, and tears well up in my eyes uncontrollably. "Enough! Let go of me!" I pushed him away with all my strength. Hugh's bloodshot eyes suddenly softened, filled with sadness. His voice was hoarse. "Shelia, tell me, do you really want to be with this man? Do you really want to push me away?" I let out a cold laugh, turned my head to avoid his intense gaze. "Hugh, we're over. Why should you care who I'm with? What right do you have?" He paused, his expression darkening, but he still held onto me tightly. "Because I'm your husband, because..."

I could hardly believe that Colin—my straight-laced, old-fashioned husband of more than a decade—had such a twisted fetish. I remembered when we once stumbled across a post about this kind of kink online. Colin's face had been full of disgust. He'd even said those people were sick. But when I scrolled to the woman's post from a month ago, she had written gleefully, 'The aloof, mature man I've been chasing finally agreed to be my puppy! Guys, tell me I'm not dreaming!'