My Husband’s Dirty Contract with His Best Friend - Chapter 2: Chapter 2
You are reading My Husband’s Dirty Contract with His Best Friend, Chapter 2: Chapter 2. Read more chapters of My Husband’s Dirty Contract with His Best Friend.
That night changed everything. After we finished, Felix and I lay tangled in the sheets, talking in that raw, intimate way you only can when the world feels far away. That's when he first mentioned it—cuckquean kink.
I'd never heard the term before, but he explained it like it was the most natural thing in the world. He got off on the idea of me with other men—imagining strangers taking me in our bed while he watched, or even just thinking about it when we were together.
At first, I laughed it off. Everyone has their thing, right? And if it made him wilder in bed, who was I to judge?
Soon, our nights got dirtier. He'd whisper filth in my ear, testing new fantasies, pushing boundaries. What started as shocking turned into a thrill—until I realized this wasn't just play. It was the first step down a path I didn't see coming.
One evening, I was elbow-deep in soapy water when his arms slid around me from behind. His fingers tugged at the sash of my nightgown, loosening it with practiced ease.
"You're so beautiful, baby." His breath was hot against my neck.
I swatted at him halfheartedly. "Stop. I haven't even showered yet."
His hand slipped under the fabric, teasing. "Who do you want tonight?"
I turned, pressing a finger to his lips. "Only you."
He grinned, tracing my thigh. "What if it wasn't me? What if it was… someone else?"
I played along, biting my lip. "Mmm… you know I'm not picky."
"That's my girl." He nipped at my skin, triumphant. "I've got a surprise for you. Want it?"
"How big?"
His eyes darkened. "Big enough." With a magician's flourish, he pulled out a set of black lace lingerie—barely-there scraps of fabric—and a sleep mask.
"Since when do you own this?" I gasped.
"Bryce always had a thing for this style," he said, smirking. "Got it just for you."
There was something new in his voice—an edge I didn't recognize—but I ignored it. If this was his fantasy, why not indulge him?
I slipped into the lingerie, studying myself in the mirror. The bra was sheer, the G-string a joke. I mock-covered myself. "This is ridiculous! Anyone could see—"
"You're right," he cut in, thoughtful. Then, grinning: "Ah. The bikini trimmer."
"What?"
"Simple," he said, fingers trailing lower. "We'll just take it all off."
I'd never heard the term before, but he explained it like it was the most natural thing in the world. He got off on the idea of me with other men—imagining strangers taking me in our bed while he watched, or even just thinking about it when we were together.
At first, I laughed it off. Everyone has their thing, right? And if it made him wilder in bed, who was I to judge?
Soon, our nights got dirtier. He'd whisper filth in my ear, testing new fantasies, pushing boundaries. What started as shocking turned into a thrill—until I realized this wasn't just play. It was the first step down a path I didn't see coming.
One evening, I was elbow-deep in soapy water when his arms slid around me from behind. His fingers tugged at the sash of my nightgown, loosening it with practiced ease.
"You're so beautiful, baby." His breath was hot against my neck.
I swatted at him halfheartedly. "Stop. I haven't even showered yet."
His hand slipped under the fabric, teasing. "Who do you want tonight?"
I turned, pressing a finger to his lips. "Only you."
He grinned, tracing my thigh. "What if it wasn't me? What if it was… someone else?"
I played along, biting my lip. "Mmm… you know I'm not picky."
"That's my girl." He nipped at my skin, triumphant. "I've got a surprise for you. Want it?"
"How big?"
His eyes darkened. "Big enough." With a magician's flourish, he pulled out a set of black lace lingerie—barely-there scraps of fabric—and a sleep mask.
"Since when do you own this?" I gasped.
"Bryce always had a thing for this style," he said, smirking. "Got it just for you."
There was something new in his voice—an edge I didn't recognize—but I ignored it. If this was his fantasy, why not indulge him?
I slipped into the lingerie, studying myself in the mirror. The bra was sheer, the G-string a joke. I mock-covered myself. "This is ridiculous! Anyone could see—"
"You're right," he cut in, thoughtful. Then, grinning: "Ah. The bikini trimmer."
"What?"
"Simple," he said, fingers trailing lower. "We'll just take it all off."
End of My Husband’s Dirty Contract with His Best Friend Chapter 2. Continue reading Chapter 3 or return to My Husband’s Dirty Contract with His Best Friend book page.