Trapped in My Husband’s Bestfriend’s Desire

"Slow down, Michael!" A woman named Arabella Beatrice had to suppress the sting that mixed with the pleasure she was feeling at that moment. The man—Michael Alexander—kept moving like a man possessed. The creaking of the bed became a witness to just how wild their night had become. But of course, it was Michael who dominated the heated affair tonight. "But it feels good, and you like it, don't you?" +++ A few months earlier, The slender fingers of a woman named Arabella Beatrice were dancing across the broad chest of her husband, who was currently lying beside her. She whispered seductively to her husband—Julian Christoper—hoping to entice him. Tonight, Bella had gone all out. Unlike the previous nights, she had deliberately worn her maroon négligée. She had even sprayed perfume on a few key spots on her body to allure and grab his attention. But Julian had looked indifferent all evening. “Baby, I want—” “Move your hand. I’m exhausted, Bella. I just want to sleep,” Julian cut her off, his eyes still closed. The 28-year-old woman scoffed, but she wasn’t giving up. Bella had waited far too long for this moment, and she wasn't about to back down now. It never felt enough—not when all he did was tease her with just his fingers. She softly caressed the side of her husband’s face again. When he didn’t push her away, her hand traveled lower to his chest, and then further down. Just as her palm brushed against something beneath his shorts, Julian abruptly slapped her hand away. Again and again, every time Bella tried to touch and give her best effort, Julian would reject her. He wouldn’t even let her touch him. “What’s wrong? Why are you being so harsh lately?” Arabella asked, her face flushing with frustration. “I told you to stop, didn’t I?! I’m really not in the mood, Bella! I’m completely exhausted. I just got back home after a three-week business trip. You should know how tired I am!” “You’ve been home for five hours already, Julian. Isn’t that enough rest? Besides, three weeks is a long time. Don’t you want to be close and intimate with me? Don’t you miss me, Lian?” Julian scoffed and snapped, “It’s only been three weeks, and you’re already making a fuss like this?” “But this isn’t about the three weeks, Lian. Don’t you realize it’s been half a year since we last did what married couples are supposed to do?” They had been married for two years. From the beginning, Bella never lacked attention, affection, or physical intimacy. Even during their year of dating, she had never once felt neglected by Julian. But starting six months ago, Arabella had sensed something different about her husband. Julian became hard to seduce. At first, she thought he was just tired and not in a mood. But that excuse kept being repeated every single time she wanted what should rightfully be hers. What’s wrong with a wife initiating things? After all, it’s her marital right too, isn’t it? “Bella, but I’ve helped you reach a climax plenty of times, haven’t I? Isn’t using my fingers enough for you?” “Are you seriously asking me that, Lian? Of course, that’s not enough. Do you think I feel satisfied like that? What’s wrong with you? You used to be unable to go a day without touching me. And now you act like you couldn’t care less. Am I not attractive to you anymore? I even did my makeup, wore your favorite lingerie—and still got rejected? Am I truly not desirable in your eyes, Lian? I’ve been patient for the past six months. I’ve kept quiet every time you rejected me, using that same excuse—you were tired. But now, why does it always have to be the same reason?” Julian sighed deeply. He looked like he was thinking for a moment before roughly throwing off the blanket. “Lian—” “Fine. Let’s just do it,” he interrupted. “I really don’t like it when you assume I’m not interested in you at all. So let’s do it, since you won’t stop asking.” Bella was slightly annoyed by his last remark. But since her desire had already been stirred, she chose not to argue. Besides, this could be a chance to rekindle their love like they used to. Without waiting for his command, Bella quickly resumed her advances. After about five minutes of foreplay, she began positioning herself on top. But Julian, understanding her intention, quickly stopped her. “Isn’t that enough foreplay? Let’s just get to the point. Let’s do it now, Bel.” “But Lian, I want you to make me—” “Do you want me to change my mind again?” Julian snapped. “Don’t be selfish, Lian. I want you to—” “Oh, for God’s sake, Bella. You’re completely killing the mood.” Julian pushed her off his body. “Maybe it’s better if we don’t do anything at all. Just leave me alone. I want to sleep peacefully tonight.” That night marked the most painful moment for Arabella Beatrice. In silence, she stared at her husband’s back—he had turned away from her and fallen asleep without the slightest guilt. Her eyes burned, not just from tears, but from the anger and disappointment that she had buried for far too long. She tried. God knew how much she had tried. Bella wasn’t a selfish wife. She understood that Julian worked hard. But how long was she supposed to keep begging just to be noticed, to be touched, to be loved? Her fists clenched under the blanket. Her breath hitched. She wanted to scream, but she knew it would only start another fight—one that would push Julian even further away. Six months. Without love, without warm embraces, and without passion. Only coldness and rejection. And now, Julian even treated her like a burden. Like an object that needed to be cast aside when it disrupted his comfort. That night, Bella slowly got out of bed. Her legs trembled, her body shook with the emotions she held in. She was wearing nothing but thin lingerie, but she didn’t care. She quietly opened the bedroom door, leaving Julian who didn’t even notice her leaving. In the living room, Bella sat alone, letting the night’s coldness envelop her. Only the dim glow of the floor lamp lit her fragile figure. She wanted to cry, but her tears felt frozen. Until suddenly, her phone rang. One name appeared on the screen. “Nancy?”