The Woman Trapped in a Sexless Marriage - Chapter 16: Chapter 16
You are reading The Woman Trapped in a Sexless Marriage, Chapter 16: Chapter 16. Read more chapters of The Woman Trapped in a Sexless Marriage.
The panties were ruined. He lowered me down, peeled them off, and cleaned me up with tissues.
"Don't worry, I'll wash these and bring them back," he said, dangling the delicate fabric between his fingers.
"Wait—what am I supposed to wear now?"
"Relax, it's late. Who's gonna notice?" He smirked. "Come on, let's get a drink."
He was absolutely shameless. And yet... I followed him.
So there I was, standing on the sidewalk in nothing but my bra and dress.
God, am I just as bad as he is?
But why did I feel so alive? My job demanded professionalism, dignity—yet here I was, bare under my skirt, convinced every stranger could see right through me. Their gazes burned, and my skin prickled with heat all over again.
This man had unraveled me. Exposed how desperate my body really was. Given me pleasure I'd never imagined.
Should I despise him—or thank him?
At the bar, he watched me squirm with amusement, pulling me close. "Look at you," he murmured against my ear. "Who'd guess such a prim little thing isn't wearing panties? You have no idea how fucking irresistible you are right now. I want you again—right here."
Before I could protest, he yanked me onto his lap, his fingers slipping between my thighs.
I stiffened, terrified someone might see. Thank God for the dim lighting.
"Stop—not here. I can't."
I'd embraced my own hunger, but this? Too far.
"Fine." His fingers still teased, slow and deliberate. "Then next time, no resistance. You obey. Understood?"
Fine. I'd agree—for now. I wasn't some honorable idiot bound by promises. But what would he demand? The thought alone sent a shiver down my spine.
"See this?" He pulled his glistening fingers free, holding them up. "Know what I want to do? Tell everyone here exactly where this wetness came from. I could auction it off—ten grand, easy. Wanna test that theory?"
Bastard. A few filthy words from him, and I was already close.
"You're horrible," I hissed, biting his shoulder. "Always torturing me."
That night, he took me again at home.
My body was changing. Just the thought of him made me ache.
Eventually, he suggested I quit my job—become his personal secretary. Even urged me to leave my husband. "You deserve better," he said.
Before, even after my husband handed me over to that old man, I'd never considered leaving. But now? Because of him? I did.
So I agreed.
When I told my husband I wanted a divorce, he was speechless.
"My heart died the night you gave me away," I said.
He exploded, refusing.
I laughed. Five years in a sexless marriage was grounds enough. And the drugs he'd slipped me? I could've had him arrested.
He dropped to his knees, begging. But I felt nothing.
In the end, he gave in—but swore I'd never work at the hospital again. He'd ruin me.
I just smiled, handing him my resignation. Then I walked straight back into the arms of my thirty-nine-year-old devil.
"Don't worry, I'll wash these and bring them back," he said, dangling the delicate fabric between his fingers.
"Wait—what am I supposed to wear now?"
"Relax, it's late. Who's gonna notice?" He smirked. "Come on, let's get a drink."
He was absolutely shameless. And yet... I followed him.
So there I was, standing on the sidewalk in nothing but my bra and dress.
God, am I just as bad as he is?
But why did I feel so alive? My job demanded professionalism, dignity—yet here I was, bare under my skirt, convinced every stranger could see right through me. Their gazes burned, and my skin prickled with heat all over again.
This man had unraveled me. Exposed how desperate my body really was. Given me pleasure I'd never imagined.
Should I despise him—or thank him?
At the bar, he watched me squirm with amusement, pulling me close. "Look at you," he murmured against my ear. "Who'd guess such a prim little thing isn't wearing panties? You have no idea how fucking irresistible you are right now. I want you again—right here."
Before I could protest, he yanked me onto his lap, his fingers slipping between my thighs.
I stiffened, terrified someone might see. Thank God for the dim lighting.
"Stop—not here. I can't."
I'd embraced my own hunger, but this? Too far.
"Fine." His fingers still teased, slow and deliberate. "Then next time, no resistance. You obey. Understood?"
Fine. I'd agree—for now. I wasn't some honorable idiot bound by promises. But what would he demand? The thought alone sent a shiver down my spine.
"See this?" He pulled his glistening fingers free, holding them up. "Know what I want to do? Tell everyone here exactly where this wetness came from. I could auction it off—ten grand, easy. Wanna test that theory?"
Bastard. A few filthy words from him, and I was already close.
"You're horrible," I hissed, biting his shoulder. "Always torturing me."
That night, he took me again at home.
My body was changing. Just the thought of him made me ache.
Eventually, he suggested I quit my job—become his personal secretary. Even urged me to leave my husband. "You deserve better," he said.
Before, even after my husband handed me over to that old man, I'd never considered leaving. But now? Because of him? I did.
So I agreed.
When I told my husband I wanted a divorce, he was speechless.
"My heart died the night you gave me away," I said.
He exploded, refusing.
I laughed. Five years in a sexless marriage was grounds enough. And the drugs he'd slipped me? I could've had him arrested.
He dropped to his knees, begging. But I felt nothing.
In the end, he gave in—but swore I'd never work at the hospital again. He'd ruin me.
I just smiled, handing him my resignation. Then I walked straight back into the arms of my thirty-nine-year-old devil.
End of The Woman Trapped in a Sexless Marriage Chapter 16. Continue reading Chapter 17 or return to The Woman Trapped in a Sexless Marriage book page.