My Hot Wife's Double Life - Chapter 5: Chapter 5
You are reading My Hot Wife's Double Life, Chapter 5: Chapter 5. Read more chapters of My Hot Wife's Double Life.
The realization hit me like a punch to the gut. My voice came out sharper than I intended. "Wait—Lucas bought a place from you?"
"Of course!" She flashed a knowing smile. "Five grand deposit, full contract pending as long as he kept you satisfied. Standard practice, really. Our top seller moves dozens of properties a month—all thanks to this approach." Her fingers drummed against her thigh. "You're wound tighter than a spring, sweetheart. Need help relaxing?"
Before I could react, she was on her knees, hands reaching for my belt.
I caught her wrists. "Not happening. Tell Lucas we did the deed—you'll still get your commission."
Her lips formed a theatrical pout. "What, not your type?"
"Got urgent business."
I practically vaulted off the couch, adjusting my pants as I fled.
Emily. That's what really terrified me.
If this was how realtors closed deals, what stopped my wife from getting pulled into the same cesspool?
Then it clicked—Sophia was a top performer. Did that mean...?
My phone was out before the elevator arrived. Thank God Emily answered—already heading home with Sophia in tow.
I paced the apartment lobby like a caged animal until their taxi pulled up. Sophia's smirk could've curdled milk. "Ooh, someone's clingy! Emily, if this one's too needy, send him my way. Keep it in the family, right?"
Heat flooded my face.
Emily giggled, tossing her hair. "Save your 'fertile land' spiel for your own man, Soph. Mine only plows one field!"
Christ. She was starting to sound just like her.
The apartment door barely shut before I had Emily pinned against the couch. All that pent-up frustration from the hotel poured out—rough, desperate.
Afterward, she lay breathless, cheeks flushed. "Jesus, what got into you today? You were... different."
I traced her collarbone. "Blame that damn dress. Now help your king to the bath."
"Yes, your highness!"
Emily's real estate career started smoothly. First month? Textbook perfect. Sophia often dropped her off, or I'd pick her up on my delivery scooter—always changing into presentable clothes first. Pride's a funny thing.
Then the cracks appeared.
Later nights. Vaguer excuses.
Tonight? 11:17 PM. Straight to voicemail.
My third call to Sophia connected to heavy breathing. "Mmm—Emily? She's... here. One sec!"
Emily's voice came through weirdly strained. "Babe... working late at Sophia's. Just... yoga stuff."
The lie curdled in my gut, but with Sophia listening, I bit back questions. "I'll make you a snack. Hurry home."
"Okay." The line died.
Then Lucas' text lit up my screen with a video attachment:
"Dude, threesomes are next-level. Just nailed another realtor BFF pair. Best part? One's hubby called mid-stroke. Made me go harder—almost got caught. Hah!"
Realtors. Best friends.
I'd just called Emily.
The video loaded with trembling fingers. Lucas' grunting frame dominated the screen, driving into pale, familiar thighs—
No.
Not her.
Please not her.
"Of course!" She flashed a knowing smile. "Five grand deposit, full contract pending as long as he kept you satisfied. Standard practice, really. Our top seller moves dozens of properties a month—all thanks to this approach." Her fingers drummed against her thigh. "You're wound tighter than a spring, sweetheart. Need help relaxing?"
Before I could react, she was on her knees, hands reaching for my belt.
I caught her wrists. "Not happening. Tell Lucas we did the deed—you'll still get your commission."
Her lips formed a theatrical pout. "What, not your type?"
"Got urgent business."
I practically vaulted off the couch, adjusting my pants as I fled.
Emily. That's what really terrified me.
If this was how realtors closed deals, what stopped my wife from getting pulled into the same cesspool?
Then it clicked—Sophia was a top performer. Did that mean...?
My phone was out before the elevator arrived. Thank God Emily answered—already heading home with Sophia in tow.
I paced the apartment lobby like a caged animal until their taxi pulled up. Sophia's smirk could've curdled milk. "Ooh, someone's clingy! Emily, if this one's too needy, send him my way. Keep it in the family, right?"
Heat flooded my face.
Emily giggled, tossing her hair. "Save your 'fertile land' spiel for your own man, Soph. Mine only plows one field!"
Christ. She was starting to sound just like her.
The apartment door barely shut before I had Emily pinned against the couch. All that pent-up frustration from the hotel poured out—rough, desperate.
Afterward, she lay breathless, cheeks flushed. "Jesus, what got into you today? You were... different."
I traced her collarbone. "Blame that damn dress. Now help your king to the bath."
"Yes, your highness!"
Emily's real estate career started smoothly. First month? Textbook perfect. Sophia often dropped her off, or I'd pick her up on my delivery scooter—always changing into presentable clothes first. Pride's a funny thing.
Then the cracks appeared.
Later nights. Vaguer excuses.
Tonight? 11:17 PM. Straight to voicemail.
My third call to Sophia connected to heavy breathing. "Mmm—Emily? She's... here. One sec!"
Emily's voice came through weirdly strained. "Babe... working late at Sophia's. Just... yoga stuff."
The lie curdled in my gut, but with Sophia listening, I bit back questions. "I'll make you a snack. Hurry home."
"Okay." The line died.
Then Lucas' text lit up my screen with a video attachment:
"Dude, threesomes are next-level. Just nailed another realtor BFF pair. Best part? One's hubby called mid-stroke. Made me go harder—almost got caught. Hah!"
Realtors. Best friends.
I'd just called Emily.
The video loaded with trembling fingers. Lucas' grunting frame dominated the screen, driving into pale, familiar thighs—
No.
Not her.
Please not her.
End of My Hot Wife's Double Life Chapter 5. Continue reading Chapter 6 or return to My Hot Wife's Double Life book page.