My Husband’s Dirty Contract with His Best Friend

My Husband’s Dirty Contract with His Best Friend

Marian · Ongoing · 8 Chapters

...

About this book

The clock had long since passed midnight when my husband pinned my wrists above my head, his dark eyes burning with hunger as that familiar smirk played on his lips. "You want a man, don't you?"

Chapter 1

The clock had long since passed midnight when my husband pinned my wrists above my head, his dark eyes burning with hunger as that familiar smirk played on his lips.

"You want a man, don't you?"

A needy whimper escaped me as I arched against him. "God, yes… so badly."

"Good." His voice dropped to a rough whisper. "Then I'll call Bryce over."

My name is Lillian Roland, and for three years, I've been Felix Laurent's wife.

Time had dulled the spark between us—our intimacy growing rare, predictable. But ever since his alumni reunion, something in him had shifted.

That night, he stumbled home drunk, barely coherent—until suddenly, he was dragging me from sleep, hands urgent, mouth hot.

Frustration coiled tight in my stomach. "Can you go faster, baby?"

His response was a low growl. "If you want it faster, say something filthy."

Heat prickled my skin. "Like what?"

His grin turned wicked. "Tell me how they used to fuck you."

The demand hit like ice water. Felix knew about my past, but he'd never asked for details—never wanted them.

I tried to brush it off as liquor-lust when he flipped me onto my stomach. But when I stayed silent, his fingers dug in. "Did they hold you like this?"

His words grew darker, dirtier—as if my humiliation was the real thrill.

My face burned, but my body betrayed me, craving more. "Let's… try a different position?"

The truth? I loved this angle—but Felix had never quite… matched up.

The second the words left my lips, he went rigid above me. I'd struck a nerve.

Instead of pulling away, his grip turned brutal. "Ah. So this was Bryce's favorite, wasn't it?"

Dazed, I hesitated. "Do you really want me to answer? You might not like it."

"Trust me," he purred, driving deeper, "it'll only make me harder. And you'll love it too. Now tell me—was it him?"

I buried my face in the pillow with a muffled "Mhm."

Bryce Evans—my ex, the one who'd ruined me for anyone else. A freshman athlete with sun-kissed skin and hands that knew exactly how to wreck me. Six months of him, and no one had ever compared.