Hotwife Novels & Stories

It seemed like she hadn't yet gotten over the loss, as if she was going through a very tough time. "Like, all... big." "Big?" "You know! With a lot of flesh." "But what the hell are you talking about?" "Thick legs, wide hips, all that bust and that butt. Fat," he explained abruptly. He's talking about his wife, about her appearance. "I don't like the way this conversation is going. We're talking about Alice, your wife. How can you express yourself like that?" he asked, not believing it. Even if they had confidence, this way of talking about her wasn't right, especially about

Author’s P.O.V " Oh! my so-called whore-Ops I misspell- wife is up. " He whispered in his monotone. Her heart felt a pang but avoided his comment. It has been one week since he claimed her to be a whore who was trying to get attention. One week felt like hell. His taunt for her being a whore and a sleepy ass. Not her fault though, after an orgasm her body automatically resists everything and she craves for a nap. It wasn't in her hand to prevent the desire to sleep after the first round.

“He says we can’t live at home anymore.” “Is this how you act in front of a child?” I ask calmly. Daniel looks at me, his eyes full of hate, “You can have the whore and her bastard.” An evil smile tugs at the corner of his lips, “Wait, if you’re here? Where is your wife? Does she know about all this?” Trying to keep my voice neutral, I say, “Don’t worry about my wife. She’s an amazing woman.” “I’m sure she is. But does she like sleeping in a cold bed? A place in mine just became available.” Daniel taunts.

Killian’s Pov I couldn't believe what I saw. I really stood there and watched my wife act like some cheap cheat and then try to spin the story by dragging Zoey into it. How low can she get. Manipulative. Cunning. That’s what she’s always been. Plays the victim, cries when things don’t go her way. But tonight made everything clear. Lilith doesn’t need love. She doesn’t need care. She’s not worthy of it. I was too tired to argue more. It was late. I just needed the day to end. So I went to bed.

Layla hadn’t even begun to speak about what she went through as a wife, how she was used, how she was beaten, how she was accused of things she never did, and still, they were already unraveling. Sophia remained the only one pretending not to be affected, even after learning that Layla was connected to the Harthwore family, and knowing that once her son was introduced, it would create waves powerful enough to shift everything, she stood firm—or at least, she pretended to. Zara, on the other hand, had seen it all—the news, the interviews—yet she refused to believe it would last; in her mind, it was all temporary. After all, her mother had been a nobody, and there was no way someone like that

"Anything, Rita. Just tell me." I leaned down. My eyes got icy. I said, "You called me a whore in front of my colleagues this morning Victor. You can't be a father tonight.”

the woman asked, her head hovering up from between my legs. "Shape?" I asked, blinking down at her. "What do you mean?" "Should I style it? Leave a small landing strip, or shave it completely bare?" Oh! I understood now. "How about... a heart shape?" I asked, feeling a sudden blush warm my cheeks. One of the maids snickered, but the woman shot her a warning look before continuing. I lay back and tried not to think about it. Imagine tonight when I’m about to sleep with my hot billionaire husband and he sees a cute little heart shaved into my pussy. I blushed just picturing it.

Amythest regained her balance and walked over to the window. "How come you didn't tell me about your husband?" In hushed tones, I inquired. She scowled and drew her brows together, as if she didn't understand why I was interested in his husband. She moved away from me and said, "Umm.... he works as a body bulder." I turned around to face her and showed her my biceps once more. Despite the fact that I am not a bodybuilder, I do have abs and biceps. With a thud, she walked into the washroom, rolling her eyes. She shut the door in my face, as though I was invading her personal space. I slapped my face in humiliation and attempted to inquire about her love life.

But who would do such a thing? "Shut up! Stop speaking. Weren't you guys telling me you'd interview me?!' yelled the woman, on top of her lungs as she tried to divert the attention to prevent their plans from failing. "Lulu Barrera, this woman is a vile and wicked person. Completely despicable. She cheated my brother of all his wealth when she saw that he was ill and weak. She then came here and continued to leech off this family, she's a gold digger!"

It infuriates me whenever he calls me by that endearment. But I. Am. No. Longer. His. Wife. I wanted to shout it at him right then and there. His face was only inches away from mine, but my nervousness vanished as he drew closer. It was replaced by irritation. Every time he called me wife, it made my blood boil. If it were in the past and he had called me by that endearment, I might have happily succumbed to his charms, eagerly waiting for the next sweet moment. I might have fallen for his manipulative gestures.