My Husband Brought His Mistress Home Novels & Stories

“No secret, remember?” “You don't expect me to tell you about my marriage.” “So why are you here?” He pouted his lips. “I know you don't share your secrets with strangers so tell me what it is.” “Last night, Richard returned home drunk and this morning he's being nice to me. I can't just figure it out by myself, I'm confused.” “Did anything happen?” She nodded and shook her head at the same time. “He lost his mind and almost touched me. I know he wouldn't do that if he's in his right mind.”

"After my class, I went straight to your place... I just wanted to make sure you were okay, so I waited for you here... How did your conversation with your husband go?" "My shameless husband... I caught him and his mistress doing things in our bed! Huhuhu..." "Holy shit!!!" "That’s why he was so eager to kick me out so he could be free to be with her!" "Your husband is such a jerk!" "Honestly, I don’t care about him anymore... He’s hurt me too much. He threw me out of our house for the second time. He even sided with his mistress over me!" she said, sobbing.

And the sight before me was like a punch straight to the gut, knocking the wind out of me. There was my husband, pounding away furiously, his hips slamming over and over into some blonde woman who was thrashing beneath him in ecstasy. In pleasure I had never experienced from him as his wife. Jason was too lost in his own gratification to notice me at first. But his mistress's eyes suddenly locked onto mine and she grinned wickedly while digging her nails into his back as she cried out again in bliss. The furious, lewd sound of skin slapping against skin was like a symphony straight from hell.

“I no longer have the means and access to the professionals to accomplish such a feat, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say I’m happy they’re dead. My husband has a penchant for huntresses in recent years, probably because they’re young and most have an almost perfect body from your profession’s need to work out. He was terrified of what I’d do to his subsequent mistresses that he hired professionals to keep them safe. Can you believe that? Hiring people to keep his mistresses safe from his own wife. And the most stupid part of his whole plan is that he thinks I don’t know. He hasn’t told me about the current crisis, but if I were to guess, I’d say his hired professionals screwed up.” “Clearly,”

SCARLETT My husband is back. Yes, he's finally home and even though I've hardly seeing him since he returned, I felt him every night he came to bed. He's been working late two nights in a row since he returned from his Sicily trip with his little whore of a mistress.

Yvonne clung to his arm affectionately while I stood five steps away, the divide clear as day. "You see that?" someone whispered. "He cheated with his mistress and even got her pregnant, yet he's still trying to keep his wife from leaving." "What does he expect her to do? Stick around and take care of his mistress while she gives birth?" another remarked. "He's disgusting. Acting all lovey-dovey after cheating? Makes me want to puke," someone spat. Each word cut deep, and none of it escaped Caleb's ears. He opened his mouth as if to explain, but when he glanced at Yvonne clinging to his arm, he couldn't muster a single word. In the end, he could only watch helplessly as I walked away.

I was here to heal from cancer, not to fix my marriage. Memories clouded my mind, and I smiled as I recalled the last twenty-four hours by Gregory’s side. I turned the doorknob, and when I entered the house, I noticed that feminine figure elegantly seated on the sofa. Her eyes fell on mine, and a wave of shock hit me, stripping away every illusion I had felt. It was her—my husband’s mistress. Her heels clicked against the cold floor of the house as she walked toward me, each step bringing her closer until she stopped right in front of me, looking so elegant with a wide smile on her face.

I sent evidence of my husband Jerome Maslow's affair to the family group chat. The chat fell silent, though private messages began pouring in nonstop. I ignored them, turned off my phone, and headed to work. Jerome's mistress was Audrey Norton, a young streamer our company had just signed last month. When I arrived, she was mid-livestream, energetically twirling around in a short skirt and high heels. I signaled the room controller to pause the live stream. Once the microphones were off, I finally spoke.

My husband, Jaxon Murray, was a renowned medical expert and owned a big company. He was participating in a clinical drug trial when someone tampered with his medication. Under the influence, he ended up entangled with an intern—ninety-nine times, right there on the lab table. When he regained clarity, he rushed home, locked himself in the bathroom, and submerged himself in the tub without food or water as he waited for me to return from work. "Lauren," he said, "my medication was switched during the trial. I made a terrible mistake. But I paid her off and had her dismissed. She'll never appear before me again." I wept miserably, clutching my belly that had once again failed to carry life.

What mess do I have to clean this time? I adjusted in my seat and kept a straight face. I have to be prepared to hear the worst from this man and prepare to work like the corporate slave that I am. “I intend on taking a mistress." My eyes widened, “A mistress?” I repeated after him. Despite not having a loving relationship with my husband, taking a mistress was the least thing I expected from him. Sex with us was good, Infact great. “Why?” I blurted out. Why does he need a mistress?