Mark Few Wife Novels & Stories

Mark had been home for five days, and the house felt like a minefield of secrets. He hugged her tighter than usual when he returned, kissing her forehead and telling her how much he missed his “sweet wife.” Emma smiled, played the part, cooked his favorite meals, and let him make gentle love to her once. She faked the orgasm like a professional. All while the heavy steel plugs Jax and Marcus had given her stayed buried deep inside, keeping the remnants of their final marathon loads locked in her womb and ass. Every time Mark touched her, she felt nothing but distant pity. The man sleeping beside her had no idea his wife was already gone.

"Make me come. And don't you dare stop until I'm finished with you." She used her grip on Cora's hair to control the movements, grinding her pussy against the other woman's face, smearing her wetness everywhere. She looked at Mark, his eyes wild, his cock still hard and heavy in his hand. "Are you watching this, Mark?" she panted. "Are you watching me use her?" He could only nod, his mouth agape. "Tell me what you see," she demanded. "I see... I see my wife," he choked out.

Smile thin as a blade. “Lucas Harrington,” he greeted smoothly. “You look well.” Lucas didn’t return the smile. “Adrian Cole.” Amara felt the tension shift instantly. This was no rumor. This was history. Adrian’s gaze moved to her. Assessing. Calculating. “So this is the wife,” he said. “You do have a talent for unexpected decisions.” “Say what you want and leave her out of it,” Lucas said coldly. Adrian chuckled. “You always did overestimate your control.”

Files about Olivia Hart. Sophia saw the photos. Olivias work ID photo. Simple, no smile. "Who is this?" Sophia asked. "Your new secretary?" Mark said "My wife." Sophia laughed. Then she stopped when she saw Mark was serious. "Your contract wife? The one you said was invisible? Since when do you care about her?" Mark said "Since she disappeared from my bed." Sophias smile faded. "Mark you don't want her. She's nothing. A poor girl from a family. I can give you—"

I confirmed my electronic signature on the tablet Anna handed me, then pulled out the thick divorce papers from the folder. "Let go of me." The guards instinctively released their grip. I walked over to the long table and signed my name on the last page in a clean, decisive stroke. Then I picked up the papers, looked at Victoria's stunned face, and held them out to her. "Your turn." Victoria snatched them and skimmed. "Spouse leaves with nothing..." "Ethan! You want me to walk away with nothing?! With what?! What do you even have?! That rotting farmhouse your dead old man's been clinging to? You want me to walk away empty-handed? Are you out of your mind?!"

They never lasted, and they never even got to the stage of being his wife—even if it was a fake one, but I did. It felt like an achievement. It was like doing reputational insurance that other women never got to experience. “I'm his first wife,” I repeated it to myself like I was casting some evil spell. “I'm his first wife.” It was indeed an achievement. I buried myself in those thoughts till darkness covered the sky and I didn't even realise. That evening, Alex got back happy. It was a rare scenario. “My beautiful darling,” he uttered. My brows were furrowed in confusion. He never added any endearments to my calling.

Chris’s lips curled up as he got up “Considering we are all done or rather progressing in the right direction, I am going to get my wife back.” “Yes… bring them home.” Mark nodded as he raised his glass in a toast which everyone happily joined in; They too missed their wife and kids!

“Anyway, you should leave now.” “No can do, I’m staying in the place where my wife is,” Mark gave a smile to Angelo before standing again. And slowly making his way towards his wife. “Besides, I quite like staying near you.” When he had finally gotten near Angelo’s bed, Mark then bent down and kissed the forehead of his wife. The kiss only lasted for a few seconds, and after giving a peck on his wife’s forehead, Mark lightly rubbed his thumb- on Aimie’s forehead to; wipe the moist.

I wouldn't maintain eye contact with either of them and Maryanne was looking guilty as sin. "Fuck!" Mark exclaimed, sitting up and wiping his tears. "You did it, didn't you? The two of you, I mean," he asked, clearly more excited than I thought he would be. "You and your brother... Fuck!" Mark stood up and looked at the two of us. He was smiling and shaking his head, his cock hardening at the thought of me fucking his wife. This fit every definition I could think of for the Slut Wife Fetish. Maryanne stood up and the two of them embraced.

she cries out with a loud voice but Mark couldn't care less as he continues with his task. "I'm sorry, I didn't think it'd hurt, you know I've always wondered why my wife would always complain about headaches and suddenly start acting out of order, but then… something happened," he says pressing deeper into her wound to the point where her heartbeat monitor begins beeping more than often. "If you have any idea why my wife is still asleep and hasn't woken up, then I'd deeply appreciate it and be sure to reward you for it." Clenching his teeth Mark digs deep into her wound and it opens once again, her cries echo all around the building but no one dares to intervene, not even the nurses agreed