The Billionaire's Hated Wife

O N E

Sienna stares at her facial expression from across the mirror, a frown etched to her lips as her hand moves to her neck, finger grazing over the heavy metal that rests against the tanned, flawless skin.

A long sigh leaves her lips as she takes her hand away from the metal, resisting the urge to rip the thing off her neck. Oh, how much she hates these accessories. She would do anything just to not put them on, but according to her husband—a woman of great honour is gotta dress like one.

She rises from her seat, standing before the full-length mirror as her hands smooth down the front of her dress. A red, knee-length simple dress with roses splattered across the chest area.

Sienna has a feeling that her husband wouldn't be approving this dress to the cocktail birthday party of one of his so-called rich friends where people of top table and status would be present, but who cares about that? If the man wants her to leave her peace to attend a party, she deems unnecessary rather than being in the confinement of her room, singing along to her favourite classic songs and a steamy novel in hand—then he's gotta take whatever she gives him. And that includes her choice of clothing.

"You're not wearing that to the Harrington's party. "

No longer had the thought comes to mind, she hears the voice of the man himself not far away from her.

Taking a deep breath, Sienna turns around in her stand to come into view with her husband, Bartholomew Bricks, and her heart doesn't miss the chance to skip a beat at the sight of the devious hotness that stands before her with that permanent, never-ending frown etched to his handsome face.

Her husband, Bartholomew, is a dashing man, and there's no doubt about that with the way Sienna's heart flutters every single second at the sight of the man.

With his impressive tallness, unblemished skin and muscles that show just how much the man exercises; Sienna never misses a chance to fantasize over the man. Despite her acclaimed dislike for his attitude towards her, he still has her clutching her thighs together from one look.

"This is what I would like to wear, Bartholomew. It's simple and I love it. " She dares to say, eyes watching the huger man curiously and expecting the insult he never misses a chance to throw at her at everything she does. Sporadically, she truly wonders why the man bothered to marry her.

"How many times do I have to tell you, Sienna? Simple doesn't go with you. "

He says, with anger clear in his tone as he moves fully into the room, walking to the other side of the room where his accessories lays neatly. "You're my wife. Bartholomew Bricks Wife. " Sometimes, it truly doesn't feel so. She feels no more than galleries meant to decorate his home only. Adored from the first sight, but forgotten in no time.

"You're the wife of a successful billionaire, and I expect you to at least dress like one if you find trouble in behaving like one. Take that trash off, Sienna. And do not waste my time. "

Tears prick the corner of her eyes at the words that leave the man's mouth. Insulting harsh words.

But why? It wouldn't be the first time the man says something like this to her. Why does it hurt every other time that it happens?

"I will not ask you again, Sienna. "

He speaks in a darker tone and when she raises her gaze to meet the steeliness of his gaze; she didn't have to be told twice before she turns back and moves into her walk-in closet. For she knows exactly what will happen next if she delays any longer, and it's one thing that brings about her dislike for the man.

Swiping her palm across the skin of her cheeks harshly, Sienna strips down, throwing the red dress across the room before grabbing a silver dashing gown her husband got her for her last year's birthday.

This dress, he definitely will approve.

As much as she dislikes the man, she can't deny the fact that he has a good fashion sense. Even better than her, and most of the time, he doesn't hesitate to throw it in her face.

Grabbing the dress in hand, she walks back inside their room clad in only her matching panties and bra. Bartholomew is sitting nearly on their bed, a laptop in hand, and the man doesn't cast her a glance twice to acknowledge her presence.

With her model-like body shape, you would think her husband chases after her with his c**k protruding against his slacks every other time of the day. But that isn't the case. If nothing, it seems like seeing her naked is a massive turn off for him. He doesn't seem aroused by it, instead, he's always irritated by it and the act causes such great sadness to her heart.

Sienna is a woman, no, used to be a woman with wild s*x life but since she got married to the billionaire three years ago, she has been failing a lot in that aspect. The man doesn't touch her and when he does, it's not more than a light kiss on the lips or a small squeeze to her needy breasts. If you exclude the times when she had to get him drunk to get down on her. It's almost as if the thought of being with her that way disgusts him, which is why Sienna's used to pleasuring herself at her needy times, but she knows her fingers will never give her the satisfaction and pleasures a man's hardened c**k would.

"See? Act like this every time, and we will have no trouble. "

The man says as he stands before her, a small smile gracing his lips as he plants a light kiss on her pouting lips. "Good girl. " He whispers and her gaze snaps to his, lips quivering as she moves her gaze to his lips.

Where's this new word coming from? Does he realize how much she gets turned on when that word is used for her? Does he realize her juices are soaking her panties now as she stares lustfully at the man?

"Bartholomew. " She calls in a voice barely above a whisper as she inches closer to the man, her hands itching to touch him, but she knows too well what will happen if she dares to without his permission. But God helps her, she's dying so hard too. When at last had he given her that little kiss of his? Two months? Four months? It's hard to remember when it's been so long.

"We should get going. "

The man says, planting one more kiss to her forehead before turning around in his stand, and she watches as he walks out of their room; not realizing how her legs are shaking, and her fingers are itching to graze over her wetness and f**k herself till he catches her in the act and punishes her for being a disobedient wife by bending her over her dressing table.

Knowing it's a fantasy she will never get to live, Sienna presses her legs tightly before grabbing her purse and walking in the direction the man did, heart drumming fast with each step she takes.

She does not doubt that this will be one of the miserable parties she will hate, just like every other.

Especially when she's starting it with drenching panties and throbbing p***y.

~

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?"