La Esposa Perfecta Novels & Stories

I curled my finger into a fist against the mirror, moaning his name. “Tell me, my amoris. Isn’t my wife perfect? Look at her body, her hair, her eyes, her lips,” he slid his hand from my hip to my belly to my breasts. “Come on,” his motion became rougher and faster. “Speak, my amoris.” “Y-yes… ah!” My legs were shaking. He wrapped his arms around my waist to stop me from falling. “What yes?” “Your wife is the most beautiful person in this… uh… in this… world.”

“You were never trash, Cass. You were a goddamn queen waiting to be crowned. And look at you now—running half my empire, mothering our perfect little girl, wearing my collar like it’s the finest jewelry in the world while my cum leaks down your thighs under the boardroom table. You kept me inside you yesterday through every meeting, every glitter explosion with Lila, every nursery sketch on your tablet. That power? That’s you. That’s us. And when this next little wolf comes—Rowan or Sage or whatever name you whisper while you’re coming on my cock—I’ll still fuck you just like this every morning. Slow. Deep. So you feel exactly how much I love you.” The orgasm crested like a warm tide instead

Possessive to the core. Later, as the sun filters through the curtains, I carry her to the bathroom. She is light in my arms, fragile and strong at once. Under the shower, I wash her gently, my soapy hands exploring every curve – her breasts, her flat stomach, between her reddened thighs. She leans against me, still receptive, moaning softly when my fingers brush her sensitive clitoris. I make her come there, against the tile, just with my caresses and my words: "You are perfect, mia moglie. The most beautiful. Everything for me." She trembles in my arms, cries my name once more, and I hold her, euphoric. This marriage, this night, it's the beginning of a perfect life. She is mine, body and

She knew he demanded this submission from him. To be his perfect wife. But she cant be his perfect wife. She might have married him but he does not have her heart. She could be his perfect wife only if he had captivated her heart with his charms. Daniyal had her heart. If Daniyal had married her she would have been his perfect wife then. She would do anything to please him and that's all because she loves him and he loves her. Their marriage would have been the most perfect. She wanted Daniyal not him.

Why was I just sitting here while my wife was betraying me? I looked into the room. My wife's mother had given us an antique vanity whose mirror was no longer attached as firmly as it should have been and it tilted slightly downward. I thought absently about how I was supposed to have fixed it some time ago ... but now I was happy and yet sad that I hadn't. It afforded me a view of the bed; it let me watch my wife and her lover. Her wailing was increasing. My wife was not a quiet lover; her passion started as low moans, almost growls, that kept rising in volume and pitch until her climax. I could tell she was near, could hear her wailing rising to a fever pitch.

I switch it on then looking for entertainment news or show then suddenly a news caught my attention. ‘Breaking news one of the hottest supermodel now in America Miss Shane Sandoval is in a relationship now with her co-model Alexa Gray.’ My tears ran down to my face immediately watching Shane’s interview together with her new partner. They’re so sweet together, like a perfect couple of the century. I stand up but my legs are shaking and my body is trembling in anger. I'm lost now. I lost the woman that I love so dearly with all of my heart because of that one stupid mistake.

"Papi!" I look at Marisol, who is holding onto the edge of the coffee table, and then lets go, walking slowly and balancing herself until she reaches me. I can't contain my emotion at seeing our daughter taking her first steps. Carlos looks at me with that beautiful smile that melts me, and I hold his hand contentedly. As for us, I can say with certainty that I'm happy with my husband. We haven't become the perfect couple, and our problems haven't disappeared like magic, but who said happiness is perfect? ***

The sweet cologne of his perfect wife caught up to his nose and it made him look to his side where she was standing, her eyes shining with delight as she looked at him. He cleared his throat and stared straight ahead. It was Selene O'Malley, his wife. Her face was perfect; her body was perfect. "I'll go in first," She said softly before walking in front of him to the door. Even her walking pose was perfect. And that perfection of hers was what was suffocating to him. Unlike the woman he had a one-night stand with the previous night, she felt fake. Chase knew comparing his wife to a woman he'd only met briefly was cruel but he couldn't help it. His wife was just too remarkable but she had no

“You know where that will get you, right?” “You and your psychotic cousins are going to keep me here forever? Marry me and then fuck me until I can’t walk?” I spit out venomously. Only if I hadn’t let him manipulate me into believing he was my…my what? A strange pain rippled through me as my subconscious scoffed at me. Right. He was never my anything. Nothing. His smile was the darkest. “No, topolìno. Well, yes to the last one. As tempting the thought is–we’ll need to return to Catalonia–and you will join us when we do, as our wife.”

“This is your new home, I hope you enjoy your marriage with my son.” That was his last words to me and he zoomed off. Now, I was standing inside Sebastian Mansion, very gigantic and fancy. I hear his voice as he asks the maid, “Who’s that, wearing a wedding dress and standing in my house?” He points at me, his voice sounding distant and cold. The maid takes a glance at me, her head still bowed low. I noticed as she trembled and was frightened to even speak. “Your wife, sir,” The maid responded, squeezing her eyes close like she was expecting a slap on her head. Instead, the said Sebastian Black walked over to me, his broad shoulder, towering over me like his whole aura was about to swallow m