Touch me tender, Break me wild: A Steamy Compilation
Eavesdropping wasn't my style, but the name—Richard Hale—rooted me in place, curiosity overriding guilt.
"Always hated you," she said, the admission raw, unfiltered. "From the day you proposed with that diamond bigger than my conscience, promising the world if I'd play the part. Financial security—that's what it boiled down to, wasn't it? My husband dead, bills piling, a daughter to raise. You swooped in like a savior, but it was all calculation. I resented every gala, every 'family' dinner where I smiled through your infidelities, your late nights at the office that smelled of perfume not my own."