Submissive Wife Literotica Romane & Geschichten

“A good wife never says no to her husband.” Oh. So that’s where this was going. I barely stopped myself from scoffing. Instead, I pressed my lips together and kept my expression neutral, even as irritation started bubbling in my chest. You just open you mouth and let whatever shit you have in your head come out. “Lucas is a strong man,” the first woman continued, “but even strong men need a soft place to land, that’s where you come in. A wife should always be available to her husband, no matter what.I'm sure his people told you that when you both hot married. Poor Lucas, he must be suffering. Now I regret asking him to not marry Lady Santoro after her husband died, she was willing to give hi

He didn't move with his face down on the bed, unconscious because he felt the pain that was so painful. Until in the next few seconds a delicious growl was heard loudly from Jacob Hayden Al Jassem, a former military man who already has a lot of wealth and power. His body now collapsed on top of the body of his wife who was unconscious. His breath was heavy and irregular after going through a climax that was so extraordinary as well as draining his soul's emotions that were burning with anger. His eyes were half closed enjoying the aftertaste of pleasure in his throbbing possession, while one of his hands squeezed the twin mountain chunks belonging to a woman who was already powerless because

"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?"

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.

"You already had a husband. Why have a kid with me?" Her hand paused. Then she gave a small, careless smile. "I told you. Marrying him was for a stupid promise. Elliot, you're the one I love. I gave you the child you wanted. Isn't that enough?" She looked at me like she expected me to agree. Like I should be grateful. Everything I had been holding onto gave way. Just hours ago, I sat in that office and answered every question the therapist asked, leaning on rehearsed answers, forcing down the urge to end 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.

"The only way I can avoid seeming like a wife in the shadows is for you to marry me. Last but not least, don't meet any other women while our marriage is still in effect." "Certainly not, and I seem to be a loser. With the amount of demand you have, I would not settle for only the name of Zaniyah Moore? Take one of your rules away from me, and I will agree." "What do you mean?" "Do you think I'll be able to maintain control over myself with that tempting body you have? I want sex, and when I say so, you provide it to me since that is, after all, the obligation of a wife."

But this is the first time that I'll be using it to enter his property. The place was so quiet which was also shocking because he loves music. The situation made me nervous. It felt like there was something wrong going on. I was having a second thought of still going in or I'll just go home. But the need to see him was stronger so I bravely entered his house. And the moment I entered, I immediately regretted what I did. At the living room, the first thing I noticed was the scattered clothes. My chest started tightening because the clothes I was looking at were also owned by a woman. The fact that Tristan lives here by himself made my suspicion stronger. He's not here alone.