The Billionaire's Hated Wife

T H R E E

Sienna frowns as her eyes scan the proximity of the party to see it doesn't go beyond what she expected.

Rich men dressed more than necessarily needed for the occasion with their wives, taking up a different section of the room, giggling and laughing and most, especially—ogling at her husband.

Without paying much attention to them; she knows the words they would let out like a fangirl.

'Oh, he's so muscular. I wish my husband would give in to my request and exercise more to get rid of that Potbelly. '

'I wonder what Bartholomew thinks of a second wife. Maybe he can take me. '

Such are the words of women married to men of high status; obsessing over her husband. If only they know the kind of man he is.

She doesn't blame them, though because she was once in their shoes. Back then, when they weren't married, and she sees Bartholomew in most of the events she attends with her dad; she would simply fangirl over the man. Repeating the same words this woman does, except in a more s****l way.

'I wonder who his girlfriend or fiancée is! She must be having the best time of her f*****g life, thanking her stars for catching a man like him!'

She still remembers a fortunate or rather unfortunate event she went to with her father.

She had got the glance of the man, and she was over the moons that night when he cast her a glance and one of those breathtaking smiles that melts any woman's heart.

She still remembers how excited she was when she told her friends the news; the fact that her silly crush paid attention to her. And she still remembers the satisfying feeling that settles in her abdomen with the recognition she got from the man at any event she goes with her father. Which led her to accept the marriage proposal hurriedly when it was brought before her.

If only she knew what she was going to get herself into; she wouldn't have loved him to begin with.

And God helps her, she hates herself for still doing.

She simply can't help it, there's that tiny part of her that will always be in love with that man, no matter how terrible he treats her. She still craves for his attention like a pet would for that of its master, and she still gets affected by the man's presence, but she knows she can only but imagine how his love feels like.

Sienna lets out a tired sigh as she grabs a glass from a walking waiter, giving the man a small smile before settling back on her seat, away from women of high status who finds great delight in letting the others on whose husband f****d whose maids.

Sipping from the wine in hand, her gaze moves to the back view of her husband, thighs clutching together at the remembrance of what happened earlier; she still is very turned on, and she hopes the drink will take her mind off it.

A drink.

Someone Bartholomew hates, but who cares? The man isn't paying any attention to her anyway, just like always. He's too busy caught up in business talks with his friends. Occasionally, she wonders if all they truly talk about is business, or maybe they gush around about their s*x life as the woman does.

And that must be the alcohol speaking.

And the liquid is doing something else too as she finds herself suddenly pressed and not the good kind.

Setting her drink aside, she cast one more cautious gaze at the man before grabbing her purse and walking in the direction of the restroom, away from the chattering.

Sneaking into an empty restroom, she drops her purse on the sink and stares at herself before the mirror; cheeks flushed and eyes wide.

Without debating much on it, she lays a palm on the sink, her legs spread slightly as her hand moves between her thighs, disappearing into the fabric of her dress, and she throws her head back in the air as her pinky finger grazes over her wetness, rubbing herself through the thin material of her pant.

She shuts her head as she rubs over her wetness furiously, the freehand gripping tight onto the end of the sink as her body shakes from pleasure.

She imagines her husband catching her in this act, bending her over this sink and spanking her ass for being such a naughty wife before filling her with his hardened c**k, pulsating deep inside her wet throbbing p***y.

Despite knowing that's a dream that will never come true, Sienna lives in that image as she lets out a soft cry of his name, fingers now rubbing against her bare p***y.

"Oh, f**k!"

She cries, pinching her c**t, her legs spreading wider as she slowly slides a finger in her wet core, head dropping with no control.

She pulls the finger out before doubling it, aiming desperately to meet that high.

For some unknown yet very relatable reason, her mind flashes back to when Bartholomew touched her this way. She had got the man drunk, yes, but he ruined her so good that she finds her mind flashing back to that night whenever she's pleasuring herself.

She got so desperate that night… Too desperate and she was willing to do anything just to get him to touch her, which is why she spiked his drink. And she wasn't disappointed with the outcome, even if the consequence she faced after the man returned to himself were higher.

And to think she's thinking about a s*x incident that happened a year ago to get off; how pathetic her s*x life is.

Nevertheless, she dwells in that memory, her fingers thrusting faster when she feels that familiar pull in her lower abdomen.

"Oh Bartholomew, Oh God! Gracious Lord!"

She cries, fingers thrusting in mercilessly and legs trembling in their stand.

She was too caught up in her fantasy and failed to notice another presence in the room.

"Oh s**t! I'm so sorry, I didn't expect someone to be…"

Sienna's eyes widen, and she freezes at the sound of that voice, making a terrible mistake of turning around and meeting the gaze of the intruder.

How could she have forgotten to click the lock to that door?!

"I… I…"

She struggles for words with her hand still between her thighs and legs spread apart, dress brushed up slightly.

What however shocks her, even more, is that the handsome intruder takes a threatening step towards her, brows lifted. "Sienna?"

The man calls, and she frowns, wondering how this man knows her. She hopes to the heavens that he isn't one of her husband's business partners or friends. She would be dead if this gets to that man.

However, when the man takes another step, his face moving closer into her view—her eyes widen as she gasps, "Michal?"