Husband Away, Father-in-Law Stays - Chapter 5: Chapter 5
You are reading Husband Away, Father-in-Law Stays, Chapter 5: Chapter 5. Read more chapters of Husband Away, Father-in-Law Stays.
Sophia turned ghostly pale, her scream piercing the air. "Honey, stop! Please, don't do this!"
Daniel Macmillan stood frozen in horror, barking orders at the colleagues flooding into the room. "Call the police! Someone grab him—he's gone completely insane!"
Chaos exploded as Sophia's husband charged at Daniel again, the knife flashing wildly. Seizing the moment, I slipped from behind the curtains and bolted.
The police arrived in minutes, dragging the subdued attacker away. Daniel survived, but barely—the vicious assault had left him mutilated. Whispers swirled that the madman had taken more than just flesh.
With the office in shambles, work was out of the question. After giving our statements, Alexander Roland sent us home with a warning: Keep this quiet.
Back at the apartment, Richard Lowell was gone—probably at the hospital. The laundry hamper sat empty, my lingerie and clothes already swaying on the balcony. He must have washed them this morning.
The thought of Richard's hands on my delicate things sent a flush creeping up my neck.
Last night's visit had been rushed, leaving no time for proper hospitality. Tonight, I went all out—a lavish dinner, even cracking open Ethan's prized wine.
We ate in silence until the third glass loosened Richard's tongue. He called me the perfect wife, saying Ethan was luckier than if the Lowell bloodline had struck oil.
By the time the bottle was empty, Richard's drunken murmurs faded into oblivion. His massive frame slumped across the table, out cold.
My slender arms trembled as I hauled him to the guest room. Tucking him in, I froze—last night's memory flashed before me: him in the bathroom, my lace panties wrapped around his thick arousal.
His powerful body stirred something deep inside me. Two months of lonely nights had left me starving.
The steady rhythm of his breathing teased my resolve. My gaze drifted lower. Even under the blanket, the growing bulge between his thighs was impossible to ignore.
After a torturous moment of hesitation, I gave in and pulled back the covers.
"Dad, let's get you comfortable," I whispered, testing. He didn't stir.
Heart pounding, I unbuttoned his shirt. His sun-bronzed torso—carved like a god, putting Ethan's soft build to shame—made my pulse race.
My fingers traced the hard planes of his chest. When he absently scratched at his skin, I jerked back, holding my breath until his breathing steadied.
His lounge pants slid off with ease. Now, only tight boxer briefs held him back—and the thick outline straining against the fabric.
The swollen tip, dark and slick, peeked above the waistband like an obscene intruder. The sheer size of him terrified me. That monstrous shaft—thick as a bitter melon—would tear me apart.
Daniel Macmillan stood frozen in horror, barking orders at the colleagues flooding into the room. "Call the police! Someone grab him—he's gone completely insane!"
Chaos exploded as Sophia's husband charged at Daniel again, the knife flashing wildly. Seizing the moment, I slipped from behind the curtains and bolted.
The police arrived in minutes, dragging the subdued attacker away. Daniel survived, but barely—the vicious assault had left him mutilated. Whispers swirled that the madman had taken more than just flesh.
With the office in shambles, work was out of the question. After giving our statements, Alexander Roland sent us home with a warning: Keep this quiet.
Back at the apartment, Richard Lowell was gone—probably at the hospital. The laundry hamper sat empty, my lingerie and clothes already swaying on the balcony. He must have washed them this morning.
The thought of Richard's hands on my delicate things sent a flush creeping up my neck.
Last night's visit had been rushed, leaving no time for proper hospitality. Tonight, I went all out—a lavish dinner, even cracking open Ethan's prized wine.
We ate in silence until the third glass loosened Richard's tongue. He called me the perfect wife, saying Ethan was luckier than if the Lowell bloodline had struck oil.
By the time the bottle was empty, Richard's drunken murmurs faded into oblivion. His massive frame slumped across the table, out cold.
My slender arms trembled as I hauled him to the guest room. Tucking him in, I froze—last night's memory flashed before me: him in the bathroom, my lace panties wrapped around his thick arousal.
His powerful body stirred something deep inside me. Two months of lonely nights had left me starving.
The steady rhythm of his breathing teased my resolve. My gaze drifted lower. Even under the blanket, the growing bulge between his thighs was impossible to ignore.
After a torturous moment of hesitation, I gave in and pulled back the covers.
"Dad, let's get you comfortable," I whispered, testing. He didn't stir.
Heart pounding, I unbuttoned his shirt. His sun-bronzed torso—carved like a god, putting Ethan's soft build to shame—made my pulse race.
My fingers traced the hard planes of his chest. When he absently scratched at his skin, I jerked back, holding my breath until his breathing steadied.
His lounge pants slid off with ease. Now, only tight boxer briefs held him back—and the thick outline straining against the fabric.
The swollen tip, dark and slick, peeked above the waistband like an obscene intruder. The sheer size of him terrified me. That monstrous shaft—thick as a bitter melon—would tear me apart.
End of Husband Away, Father-in-Law Stays Chapter 5. Continue reading Chapter 6 or return to Husband Away, Father-in-Law Stays book page.