Novel & Cerita Seducing My Wife Novel

The way he said my name — slow, teasing, deliberate — makes my heartbeat trip over itself. “I’m not jealous,” I snapped, grabbing my coffee just to give my hands something to do. “Why would I be jealous of your secretary?” He doesn’t answer right away, just studies me with that infuriating calm. Then he leans forward, his voice dropping low enough that it coils around me like smoke. “Because,” he said, lips curving in that wicked half-smile, “you’re my wife. And wives don’t like to share.” My breath catches. For a second, I forget how to speak, and the smug look on his face tells me he knows exactly the effect he’s having on me. I open my mouth to snap back, but he beats me to it.

As we approached a group of individuals standing near the arrival gate, my eyes fixated on the figure standing in the center. My breath caught in my throat, and my steps faltered as recognition dawned upon me. It was Ignacio, my Spanish husband, whom I had left behind in Spain under the pretense of starting a fashion line in New York. Cullen, unaware of the connection between Ignacio and me, approached him with a welcoming smile. "Ignacio, meet my wife, Brielle," he introduced, his voice filled with pride and affection. My heart raced, and I felt a knot tightening in the pit of my stomach. Ignacio's bewildered expression mirrored my own confusion and disbelief.

I naughtily pinched her, making her mad. She seductively grabbed my arms and refused to let me go. The sound insulation system of the house was not good. Besides, Rose loved playing tricks. Naturally, we were very loud. The bed shook and creaked in the night. I seemed to hear extra moaning coupled with my wife’s voice. Excitement kept challenging my sanity. I kept going faster, making my wife moan endlessly. It turned out that my worry was necessary. After drinking wine, I went home drunk one day.

I was still trying to pin the information into my head as my wife, my estranged wife, was putting the mug down on the table and went to straddle me on the bed. “You think I was your imagination, Cavan?” she whispered to me as our hot breaths mingled. I nodded, trying to keep my hands to myself but it was difficult when this siren was seducing me with her flaming hair and amber eyes locking with my blue ones. “Then, may this help clarify stuff for you,” she said before she pulled me by the nape and kissed me on the lips. I groaned as I was pulling her closer before I was turning us around, putting her beneath me as I was kissing her hungrily. It has been a while since I have a woman in my bed

Then I started typing. I continued from my previous work writing about that woman on her honeymoon. I wrote about the villa on a remote island with white curtains and a private beach and a guest cottage tucked behind a curtain of palm trees. I wrote about a husband who was kind and decent and completely unaware that his wife was slipping out of their bed every night to meet another man. I wrote about the other man, older and darker and utterly irresistible, the kind of man who drugged his own son to get what he wanted. I wrote about the blindfold and the silk cords and the way he made her beg. I wrote about the sound of the husband sleepwalking through the villa while his wife lay tangled wi

"You are not going to rape me, are you?" "You are my wife. Come to bed." He held my hands together. He turned me around making me to face him. "Can you swear that you don't want this?" His eyes rambled on my semi-exposed breast. He brought his face closer to my breast and rubbed them with it. I moaned, the feeling weakened me. "Are you trying to seduce me?" "It's not a crime if I seduce my wife." With his teeth, he unbuttoned my nightwear, his hands still clutching on my both hands behind my back, making my breast shoot out to his face.

He momentarily froze, seeing his wife on the bed, reading an erotic book while wearing only a lace dress that showed everything underneath. It was always like this; his manhood would stiffen at the mere sight of her. She smirked and put the book away, then gestured with her finger for him to come over. He did, and she grabbed the towel from his waist. It was exactly what he had in mind; his wife became bolder every day, and their relationship continued to bloom.

“Then why did you come here instead of going home? Oh, don’t answer that. It must be because you can’t stand your ugly wife. It's better to have some fun here first, huh?” Delmor chuckled and continued, “I understand you. If | were forced to marry someone as ugly as your wife, | don’t know how | would handle it. It’s true that ugly ducklings like her deserve some sympathy, but | just can’t bear to look at them.” Luna raised her eyebrows. As ugly as his wife, huh? She pushed the door open and walked in. Delmor who was backing the door, didn’t realize she had walked in and continued, “Dude, how don’t you have nightmares at night with her by your side? Or do you?”

“My personal life is stable. I’m married to the man who burned a house down to keep me. Try topping that.” Laughter fills the room and Even the chairman cracks a smile. Eleanor raises her glass. “To stability.” Celeste echoes, eyes on Ethan. “To the right choices.” Ethan’s hand finds mine under the table. “To my wife.” The room stills. Celeste’s smile falters, a hairline fracture in her perfect mask. I lean in, kiss him, in front of Celene and the board and Eleanor’s frozen glare. The kiss tastes like victory and Whiskey and mine.

My presence at the sip-and-see event sucked the life out of the party. My indifferent gaze fell on Krystal Markham. “Krystal, care to explain about today?” Krystal and I were a success story, the high school sweethearts who made it all the way to the altar. However, over the last two years, I felt her slipping further and further away. I brushed it off as the spark simply fading over time. Never in a million years did I expect her to cheat on me and have children with another man through surrogacy