Novel & Cerita Hunting Wives

And this act of hers only just made the hunt game even more interesting. The traitors that always believed they were one step ahead of me always ended up trapped in my hunting game. People in the smuggling business knew me as the Hunter and nicknamed me as that. I liked the name. None of them had survived my hunting game because they were either shot to death by my men or I or they would have had a heart attack from fear. I hoped my dear wife would be different but hey, I couldn't expect much from a woman. Many of my traitors were male and none had survived. I only have this game for women too when I found them close to me and end up betraying me.

Ralph sucked Rara’s bottom lip between his teeth as his hands strayed from her hips to the upper part of her thighs and forcibly pulled them apart. "Understand something," Ralph growled lowly against her lips. "You’re now our wife, no longer a daughter or sister but ‘ours’.” As one hand held her thigh, the other crept one hand held her thigh, the other crept up her flat stomach and possessively grabbed her plump bare breast. "I did you a favour. Your whore of a sister was eventually going to betray you, topolìno. This world is fucking selfish, it wouldn’t think twice before eating you up, then why are you feeling remorse for a wench who was ready to kill you to save her skin." Ralph continue

Didn't expect Talia to drop a bomb like that on our anniversary. I slammed the door and tore off, pedal down, straight to Cresthaven Hotel. "Call Talia Sweeney down. I need her." The receptionist didn't even look up. She pointed to the side. "Fill out a form if you're here for business. Ms. Sweeney isn't seeing anyone right now." "I'm her husband. Tell her to come down. Five minutes." That got her attention.

The bounty had turned from gossip into a city wide obsession. The anonymous bounty had been reposted across dozens of different platforms, and overnight, the promised reward had mysteriously increased to a staggering, unbelievable sum $200 MILLION. Cedarville went really crazy. The hunt for Lucius Hunt’s secret wife became some sort of competitive sport. Amateur internet detectives formed their own online forums, analyzing every single woman the Lucuis had been photographed with during the past five years. They stalked his inactive social media accounts for tiny clues.

He tried to hide his moans in the mattress and I stopped moving instantly. “Cry if you have to," I sneered. "But don’t you dare muffle my name." My voice was thick with pleasure. "I want the whole house to know who is making you scream like this.” He nodded slightly. "Fucking mine," I said, gripping his waist and going all in with one poweful thrust. He cried out so loudly that I was sure the entire staff would be able to hear him. Good. They should know that I was fucking the husband that I married today.

Find their mate. Halfway through the orchard, Wyatt already knew that his mate was not there. There was no scent from her. No pheromones. No tingling sensation. No pull. Even if his mate was not here, there would be plenty of maids that would be willing to be his for the night. It was a long-standing unofficial tradition. Any females who had not found their matches by the end of the Hunt would wait at the far end of the course. Unmated couples could hook up for the night and there would be no harm done when they parted ways the following morning.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN — The House on Birchwood POV: Elena Voss I drove to Birchwood Drive entirely alone. I told myself I was simply gathering vital diagnostic information. That was the truth. Mostly. The other, much uglier truth was that I needed to see it with my own eyes. I didn't want photographs, deeds, or forensic spreadsheets anymore; I needed to look at the exact physical location where my twenty-year marriage had gone to die.

"How could she hit you so hard? And you just stood there and watched, Jesse. Have you forgotten Sinead is your wife?" I was already a little upset. "She has already married someone else with your approval. Have you forgotten that?" Sinead's mother choked on her words and fell silent. After a while, she spoke again. "But that wasn't real. It was only an act. You're the only one taking it seriously." I rolled my eyes. They had all treated those solemn wedding vows as an act, but I couldn't. In fact, I found it filthy. Besides, it had been five years, and they had never told me about Zachary.

The man looks at Max, “We didn’t get any information on your wife for the auction. Lisa has a moment, if we hurry, we can get the form all filled out for the auctioneer to read.” Max puts an arm around my waist and kisses the side of my head before telling the man, “Mr. Brahm, I cannot auction off my wife. We have only been married for a few months and have yet to spend an evening apart. Perhaps next year.” “Nonsense, it is tradition. Besides, it is for a good cause,” The man replies. He signals to a woman speaking to another couple near us. “This is my wife, Lisa. Darling, this is Mrs. Sturgis,” He says.

His name trending—not for a deal closed or a partnership secured, but for the scandal unraveling in public view. He scrolled absently, each buzz a reminder of the fallout. Of what he’d built—then burned. And still… Not one message from the only two people who had once made all of it mean something. Articles spreading like wildfire. Tweets, Reddit threads, F******k reels—all speculating about the marketing tycoon with two wives. With two lives. One post showed a photo of Andrea and Celina, side by side, their faces juxtaposed under the title: Which One Is the Real Mrs. Reyes?