My Husband’s Masked Orgy Secret - Chapter 6: Chapter 6
You are reading My Husband’s Masked Orgy Secret, Chapter 6: Chapter 6. Read more chapters of My Husband’s Masked Orgy Secret.
My stomach twisted into knots as I stared at him, my jaw clenched so tight it ached. This wasn't the Nathaniel Evans I'd married—this stranger bore no resemblance to the man I once loved.
One month. That's all it took for him to become completely unrecognizable.
I forced a tight-lipped smile and shook my head, but before I could react, he closed the distance between us in one swift motion. His large hand gripped my waist, the heat of his touch searing through my dress fabric. The sudden contact made my skin crawl.
"Then let me pour my lady a drink," he whispered, his alcohol-laced breath hot against my ear.
I nearly gagged. "Ugh!"
Just as I raised my hands to shove him away, raucous laughter erupted nearby. My head snapped toward the commotion—a couple was playing some twisted strip game, now nearly naked while spectators cheered them on like this was normal party behavior.
"Everyone, join in!" someone shouted.
What happened next froze the blood in my veins. The crowd descended into madness—clothes flying, inhibitions discarded, people coupling like animals in heat. Masks transformed their faces into grotesque caricatures as they shed every last shred of human dignity.
Nathaniel ripped off his shirt with wild abandon, throwing himself into the depravity with terrifying enthusiasm.
I stumbled backward, my back hitting a cabinet as my entire body locked up in shock. My tongue felt like lead in my mouth as I scanned the writhing mass of bodies, praying none of them would notice me trembling in the shadows.
Then I saw it—a flash of chestnut brown hair among the discarded garments. My breath hitched.
That distinctive shade... that familiar perfume... the way Sophia Roland had lingered at our last meeting—it all clicked with sickening clarity. The cheating hadn't been some isolated incident. This was his world now.
Hot tears blurred my vision as I dug my nails into my palms, the physical pain barely registering over the knife twisting in my chest. When I finally unclenched my fists, crescent marks dotted my skin. With steady hands I didn't feel, I raised the walkie-talkie to my lips.
"Call the police."
Let them burn.
I slipped out unnoticed as the first sirens wailed in the distance, the sound bringing unexpected peace. Some lessons had to be learned the hard way.
The aftermath played out exactly as it should have. Vincent and Sophia got years in prison for orchestrating the whole sick affair. Nathaniel—though just a participant—still did time. By his release date, I'd already packed up our life.
The divorce papers were waiting when he got home.
One month. That's all it took for him to become completely unrecognizable.
I forced a tight-lipped smile and shook my head, but before I could react, he closed the distance between us in one swift motion. His large hand gripped my waist, the heat of his touch searing through my dress fabric. The sudden contact made my skin crawl.
"Then let me pour my lady a drink," he whispered, his alcohol-laced breath hot against my ear.
I nearly gagged. "Ugh!"
Just as I raised my hands to shove him away, raucous laughter erupted nearby. My head snapped toward the commotion—a couple was playing some twisted strip game, now nearly naked while spectators cheered them on like this was normal party behavior.
"Everyone, join in!" someone shouted.
What happened next froze the blood in my veins. The crowd descended into madness—clothes flying, inhibitions discarded, people coupling like animals in heat. Masks transformed their faces into grotesque caricatures as they shed every last shred of human dignity.
Nathaniel ripped off his shirt with wild abandon, throwing himself into the depravity with terrifying enthusiasm.
I stumbled backward, my back hitting a cabinet as my entire body locked up in shock. My tongue felt like lead in my mouth as I scanned the writhing mass of bodies, praying none of them would notice me trembling in the shadows.
Then I saw it—a flash of chestnut brown hair among the discarded garments. My breath hitched.
That distinctive shade... that familiar perfume... the way Sophia Roland had lingered at our last meeting—it all clicked with sickening clarity. The cheating hadn't been some isolated incident. This was his world now.
Hot tears blurred my vision as I dug my nails into my palms, the physical pain barely registering over the knife twisting in my chest. When I finally unclenched my fists, crescent marks dotted my skin. With steady hands I didn't feel, I raised the walkie-talkie to my lips.
"Call the police."
Let them burn.
I slipped out unnoticed as the first sirens wailed in the distance, the sound bringing unexpected peace. Some lessons had to be learned the hard way.
The aftermath played out exactly as it should have. Vincent and Sophia got years in prison for orchestrating the whole sick affair. Nathaniel—though just a participant—still did time. By his release date, I'd already packed up our life.
The divorce papers were waiting when he got home.
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