To My Husband's Mistress Novel Novels & Stories

And why evade me if she was going to confess to her part in this, anyway? I feel a burning tear roll down my face as I ponder the thought of this woman being wrapped around my husband, pregnant by my husband and tormenting me. It feels almost as though I’m the one being monitored and followed. This woman knew exactly where I was and when I’d appear. It feels unsettling to know I’m being watched by my husband’s mysterious and vindictive mistress. It’s almost as if she’s manipulating the situation. After allowing myself to cry, I decided to call Grace. Maybe two girlfriend in the midst of depression was better than one lonely drinker.

he said with a lazy smirk. His words rang in my ears like a bell. I froze. Mistress? My husband had a mistress—and I knew nothing about it. “This is going to be a long trip,” Ryan chuckled.

“Yes, Dominic Stone is my husband.” Except for her cousins, her mother, and Sophia, who knew the truth, her uncles, and aunts, especially her father, gasped. She looked at the chairperson, who didn’t move, but looked away from her. “Do you know who my husband’s mistress is? As you say, I’ll follow her for finding the right man, and you know who she is.” she shook her head with a laugh. “Yes, Sophia is my husband's mistress,” she said, staring at the chairperson.

I collapsed beside her, chest heaving. She curled up on my chest. “That was insane,” she whispered. Pride swelled in me. Early fifties and I still fuck like a bull. Then the worry crept back in. “Pattie, baby,” I said quietly. “Yeah?” “I think my wife knows I have a mistress.” She lifted her head, eyes wide. “What? Are you sure? We’ve been so careful.” She pouted.

He was rougher now than before, putting on a performance for me, making absolutely sure I saw every single inch of his thick cock sliding in and out of her dripping pussy. "Is this what you wanted to see, Vivienne?" he asked, his dark eyes locked on mine while he fucked his mistress. "Your husband using another woman right in front of you?" "Yes." I pulled my soaked panties aside and slid two fingers deep inside my dripping pussy, moaning loudly at the sensation. "Don't hold back at all. Fuck her like you mean it."

Open Marriage: His Regret, My Revenge My husband brought his mistress home, and he told me to take care of her. The man I had been married to for seven years didn’t just cheat on me. When our daughter was about to celebrate her birthday, he broke his promise to our daughter, swore he’d be back for her birthday, but never showed. He was with his mistress, and the whole world knew about it. Countless reporters captured me in a state of shock and tears, looking utterly disheveled under the flashing cameras.

I woke up a bit late the following morning, my husband wasn't in the room, he must've gone to the office; I presumed. Nevertheless, l came downstairs and he was occupied with feeding his mistress her breakfast. She's only pregnant and not handicapped?. "Good morning?" I greeted before taking a seat. Justin, however , ignores me. He turned eerily but still didn't fail to feed his mistress her own meal, yet to even eat his own food... Some few hours later, It was a long and exhausting morning watching my husband and his pregnant mistress caress each other's face. Everywhere at home had become boring, and I needed to leave the house. Going farther away was something I was beginning to crave, ye

And beside me there, at my back, my husband made out with his mistress. Severe pain shimmered through my chest, my hand slowly went down to my stomach, and I got dumped into so much tears.

she added. I stayed silent, waiting. “She’s your husband’s mistress,” Casey said bluntly. “She’s deceiving him by pretending to be the tycoon’s daughter… and you know it.” She stopped in front of me again, her eyes searching mine. “Yet you’re doing nothing about it.” I let out a quiet breath, my voice turning cold. “That’s because they deserve each other. They’re both selfish.”

I’m Serena Anson—a pathetic joke of a woman betrayed by her husband yet again. I glance at the passenger seat, where a stack of photos lies scattered: my husband, Taylor Walter, wrapped around another woman, kissing her like she’s the air he breathes. Our marriage began with a drunken one-night stand, and now he repays me by fucking his mistress. Countless nights, I’ve cried myself to sleep. I loved him—still love him—but he’s never seen it. To him, I’m just the villain who ruined his happiness.