Freelance Husbands Mga Nobela at Kwento

Our marriage was on the skids until my wife role-played her fantasy of being my Dominatrix My wife, Freya , and I had been married nearly ten years. We had been happy, our sex life had been good, and finances secure. But lately, the spark was gone. It used to be that when we had sex, it was exuberant, frenetic, sweaty, fuck-till-you-drop raunchy humping. Now, the sex was routine. It was the same thing every time, over and over. Nothing was new and it wasn’t exciting anymore.

Alex is perfect for me, and the best man in the world. It's Sunday today, and we're going on a trip to Paris for our honeymoon. I can't wait to get there and explore there with my beloved husband. I have never been out of New York before, so this is going to be my first trip out of here. How was I supposed to afford a trip out of the country when I could barely feed myself, let alone take care of my upkeep?

~Lora~ Michael’s eyes jumped, his brows furrowed together like he was trying to translate a language he didn’t speak. “What?” I snapped, irritated. “You’re joking.” He let out a short, dry laugh that died in his throat. He tried to shrug it off, but his shoulders stayed tight, locked in place. “No, I’m not, hubby.” I pointed a finger between the two of us. “I want an open marriage. You do you. I do me.”

For the first time in a long time, I felt free. And this time, I wasn’t just Adrian Hale, son of Richard Hale, heir to a collapsing empire. I was Adrian Cross' husband, partner. And I was exactly where I was meant to be.

I also took her home as her boyfriend afterwards. For a few weeks our sweet relationship continued, and I couldn't be happier. We were still working together, and so many times Felisha's husband has seen us together whenever he returns, but never says a single word. I was actually happy about it since he wasn't trying to stop our relationship, even though he doesn't know about it. Some men would want to stop their wife from doing anything with another guy even though it was work related, but he wasn't really that kind of a man, so that really made my relationship with Felisha easier.

“No touching. No pulling me close. Nothing. I lie there in that huge bed alone feeling like a stranger in my own marriage.” Koko’s eyebrows rose. “Macho? The same Macho who swept you off your feet with private jets and tiny diamond bracelets? The Macho who gave you a deep french kiss and was groping your ass in front of his parents because he couldn't keep his hands off you. That Macho is suddenly celibate?” I laughed bitterly. “I know how it sounds, Koko. But it's exactly what it is. My husband is thirty-six, ridiculously successful, controls half the tech investments on the West Coast.”

He trailed off, testing the waters. “Yes, it includes sleeping with as many women as you want,” I said, cutting to the chase. “The media? I don’t care. Get photographed at clubs, out with your buddies, living your same pathetic little life. If I see a headline like ‘Jorel Clifford, Olivia Clifford’s Husband, Caught Kissing Mystery Brunette Outside Luxury Hotel,’ I’ll double your allowance.”

“I work under an agency. I’m just doing my job.” Her tone was cold, detached. She knew he’d have questions. And she was ready to answer them because she knew how these contract marriages worked all too well. George scoffed. “And this is what your company does? Marries people off without their consent?” “She didn’t ask for much. Just presence. Discretion. Patience.” He let out a bitter laugh. “She asked you to live in my house and pretend to be my wife.” “She asked me to protect the image of your marriage. And to give you the privilege to explore.”

"Don't you dare touch me, Dylan Rios! Stay away from me. I didn't know your reason, but I will trust my husband more than you." "That's not his thing, it's his step-sister who's with him in the picture. He can't fool me. You know what? When he came back here he promised that we'd start a family, so don't try to destroy us." A smile drew on his lips which made my forehead furrow. "So, that's his reason? I thought your husband was just the CEO of the company. I didn't know that he's also a scriptwriter." "Don't insult my husband, Dylan."

Once word got out about the divorce filing, the whole of Sicily's inner circle lit up. The Hartley heir filing for divorce, the Calloway daughter shown the door: that kind of story traveled fast in any world. Within three days it had made the rounds of every dock, every street corner, every card table.