The Tainted Bride

Marriage changed me—or rather, he changed me. My husband turned me into something shameless, something hungry.

He was always the adventurous one, chasing thrill after thrill, and once I got a taste of that excitement? I was hooked. Every day, I craved something wilder, something more.

That afternoon, he drove us deep into the mountains—remote, desolate, the kind of place where no one would hear a thing. After parking, he handed me a skimpy lingerie set, sheer enough to leave nothing to the imagination.

I slipped into it, the fabric clinging to every curve. My body was made for this—full, voluptuous, impossible to resist. His gaze darkened as he grabbed my hips, fingers digging into my soft flesh with impatient hunger.

Then he yanked me out of the car, pressing me against a rough tree trunk.

"Arch your back," he growled, delivering a sharp smack to my ass.

I gasped, gripping the bark as I swayed my hips, offering myself to him.

This was new—doing something like this in broad daylight. My pulse raced, equal parts nerves and raw anticipation.

I heard him swallow hard.

"You want it?"

"Y-yes… please…"

I glanced over my shoulder, my gaze heavy with need as I rocked against him. But he loved to tease, drawing it out until I was trembling.

"Beg for it."

"P-please… husband… hurry…"

"Hurry and what?"

"Fuck me."

I sounded desperate, wrecked already.

His grip tightened on my waist.

"Next time," he murmured against my ear, voice rough, "we’ll invite a handsome young man… let you enjoy double penetration. Sound good?"

God, he knew exactly how to unravel me. His filthy words sent heat straight to my core, and I bit my lip to stifle a moan.

"Y-yes…"