Knotted Wife Novels & Stories

"He even feels sorry for me all the time, saying my parents favored sons over daughters and that I suffered because of it. He turns a blind eye to me supporting my 'brother.' What an idiot!” "Why wouldn't I take advantage of a guy like this? His money is there for me and my son to spend!" I stared at my phone screen, my fingers trembling uncontrollably. Vivienne Carter was my wife. For five years, she constantly cried in front of me, saying she was neglected by her parents since childhood and forced to drop out of school to support her brother's education. Every single word oozed self-pity.

But when I opened the door, it wasn't my wife standing there. It was Ramona Lincoln, my wife's best friend. She wore a tight black bodycon dress that hugged every curve. Her breasts strained against the fabric, full and round, impossible to ignore. The hem barely grazed her thighs, leaving her long, slender legs on full display—sheer black stockings giving way to a teasing glimpse of bare skin at the top. I stood there, stunned. My body reacted instantly. I'd been expecting my wife, so I'd answered the door in nothing but loose shorts. The tent I was pitching was unmistakably obvious.

Just enough. Elena pushed the contract towards him. “My mother first.” “Tonight,” he said. “And I’m not your toy.” His gaze lifted to hers. Dark. Steady. Close enough now that she could see a faint scar cutting through one eyebrow. “No,” he said. “You’re my wife.” The word hit harder than it should have. Wife. Her pulse stumbled. Adrian held out his hand, then paused. “May I?” The question was quiet. Almost private.

The young man did not utter a single word to confirm that he also wanted the same woman; he chose to stay silent, hiding the downfall of his own ego behind his tightly clenched jaw until the muscle lines of his neck tensed. "The three of you are crazy!" Betty shrieked in a piercingly loud voice, breaking the silence that had frozen for a moment in the room. She pointed at the faces of Alistair, Christian, and Julian alternately with a panting breath. "The three of you are being utilized by that girl! Don't you realize?! She is the lawful wife of Dominic Thorne! And you, honorable men of the Vance clan, are fighting over the same whore like starving animals!" Christian pulled the corner of hi

"Of course not!" I sat down. It was almost funny, attending my own wife's wedding and whatnot. I started looking around. Before long, the older woman beside me struck up a conversation. "Those two look perfect together, don't they? It wasn't easy for them to get married." I gritted my teeth, but the bitterness still came. "What made it hard?"

The bunch was rotten to the core and Nirvana wouldn’t allow them say anything they wanted to her. “Or perhaps, do you need me to help you jog your memory of how you wag your tails at Kaitlyn and did as she told you to?” Nirvana asked and this made both husband and wife glare hard at her. Their faces twitched as if it pained them physically to be associated with Kaitlyn when they had used her name to their satisfaction in the past. What a bunch of hypocrites.

he demanded, grip tightening, “even when things are this bad?” I tried to pull away, irritation burning hot. When I couldn’t, I looked straight into his eyes. “Rowland,” I said sharply, “remember this—I was your Uncle Nathan’s wife. Even if the marriage is over, legally there’s still a connection and our mate bond hasn't been severed yet. How do you expect me to accept help from my ex-husband’s nephew?” My words were like cold, clean, merciless blades. Rowland opened his mouth to speak but closed it. Pain flickered through his eyes, but his grip didn’t loosen.

My knot starts swelling and the moment Noah feels it he pushes back into it, working himself over it before it locks in with a stretch that has both of us shouting. He comes from the pressure it creates inside him, his whole body seizing around me, too good and tight and warm for me to resist coming with him. I empty into him in pulses that go on and on while the strap creaks and the pine rail finally, quietly, splits. We snort out a quiet laugh, too satisfied and languorous to say anything about it now. I get the cuffs off him, still inside him, still joined. His wrists are slightly chafed where the leather bit when he strained closer to me. I press a gentle kiss to each of them.

I said preparing to pick Alora Eunice from her work. [“Don’t tell me you forgot about this day? Should I cut you off?”] “Should we?” [“F*ck you.”] I just laughed at her. [“Take your wife with you! And don’t forget to—”] I turned off my phone and put it in my pocket. She is such a headache. “Gosh. I can’t believe there are guys like that—getting married, yet still womanizing. Like, hello? We were literally just talking about their wedding, and the next thing he did was… flirt with me? Gross.”

The guilt gnawed at her, but she couldn't change how she felt. She pitied Riah. She truly did. But she couldn’t give Lucas back. She wouldn’t. Even if it made her the villain in this story. Even if it made her a selfish, desperate woman. She was still his wife. They were still legally married. And as long as she held that title, she still had a chance. She had to believe that. She had to try. A shaky breath left her lips as she wiped away her tears, her resolve hardening.