Ex-husband unmasked: a man like no other Mga Nobela at Kwento

Elle I have a man's cock in my mouth. Scratch that, I have my husband's cock in my mouth. And I like it. I fucking like it. Attention everyone, my mouth is full of my husband's cock and I fucking like it. This is unbelievable. So Fucking unbelievable and weird and... Fuck, why is he so big?

After a few minutes of silence between them, he broke it off by ordering more drinks. Isabella wondered if he was not going to pass out after consuming them. They were all alcoholic drinks. Manulita returned with another stranger wearing a mask. However, the men did not know each other. Manuela left to dance with her masked guy and, again, Isabella was left alone with the stranger. She did not want to chat with him anymore, so she took out her phone and saw that there were many notifications and missed calls from her ex-husband. She ignored his calls and tapped on the notification. Sheila sent her a message.

“The family gave the order. The recipient is already prepped in OR 4.” Then came the mask. It smelled of chemical sleep and ending. As the darkness swirled at the edges of my vision, I saw a flash of movement near the viewing gallery. A man stood there. Tall, broad-shouldered, with eyes as dark and unforgiving as a winter sea. John. My husband. The man I had married three days ago in a ceremony where I stood alone next to his framed photograph. The most powerful man in the city, and he hadn't even bothered to show up to stop his new bride from being carved open. He just watched, his face a mask of granite.

There’s nothing else useful on internet that will be beneficial to him in his quest. He sighed as he rubbed his face,” it seems that this man with the same face as me is very troublesome, difficult to deal with and too secretive for my liking…….I’ve been hacking and browsing for hours and all I got was that he was married more than six years ago and his wife is called Alice Davison…..why is he so secretive…I can browse of all information about Beyoncé right now, I will get every information about her but no that man hides his informations….so annoying!” He exclaimed angrily.

I pretend to sound annoyed and then I put the shirt back on. “It's nothing. I was just overthinking, and I wanted to show you something as well.” He sighs and my eyes widen when his hand moves to his mask and I stiffen when he pulls it off, revealing his face. Can someone tell me what my fucking husband is up to now?

His arm moves in front of me, shielding me completely. “Leave, Tricia” he says. She arches an eyebrow. “That’s how you greet me now? No kiss? No apology?” My stomach twists as I whisper, “Who is she?” His reply is sharp, "My miserable ex." The woman’s eyes slide to mine, as she eyes me. “Oh,” she says with a mocking smile. “So this is the new toy. Cute. Does she know what you’re really like when the mask comes off?” He doesn’t respond. Not with words.

Isabella continued to sift through the contents of the envelope, her heart sank with each new discovery. Photographs, scattered like broken fragments of a shattered mirror, she picked up the one that stood out the most, lo and behold, her loving husband in the company of a mysterious woman, she couldn't make out her face because of the nose mask she had on, their faces alight with laughter and affection, with a smiling child sitting in-between them, great example of a happy family.

"Who's a stranger to you? I'm Freddie, your—" "Ex-husband," I cut him off, giving him a half-smile as he frowned. I couldn't explain it, but something in his expression softened at my words, almost as if his attitude had shifted.

She was an independent woman now. Controlling her anger has become impossible these days. She was sure he suspected that she was just pretending to be another woman. Knowing her ex-husband was the CEO, she would have given up on this partnership if it wasn't one of her dreams. But she knew it would take her to places she had been dreaming of. Ellodie wouldn't let Simon make her give up on her dreams. This was just business. Nothing more. The ringing sound of her phone jerked her out of her reverie. With Sydney sleeping on her bed, she quickly grabbed the phone to pick up so Sydney wouldn't wake up from the loud sound.

He was kind—so kind—and he listened when I talked about my life, my struggles, my absent husband. He told me about his own failed marriage. About a wife who moved on, who didn't want him. And I felt such kinship with him. Such understanding. Here was someone who knew what it was like to be forgotten. I wish my husband was like this officer. Kind and thoughtful and present. Someone who sees me as a person, not just an obligation. I didn't tell him my husband's name. Some instinct held me back. Privacy, maybe. Or shame. I don't know.