His Girl

His Girl

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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Wed, Mar 29, 2017
I remember how I used to hate love. I used to think that falling from the Empire State building hurt less than falling in love. But as you grow up, it takes you a long time to realize that it's not the love that hurts. It's everything except the love that hurts. It's the rejection. It's the loss of someone. It's the betrayal. It's the hurt. The lies, the anger, the loneliness, and the pain. Love is something that makes you feel good. That makes you smile whenever you wake up. It's something that completes you. But what if, it has something to do with beautiful inside it that we yearn for a lot of years, with something unreachable. It's hard to find it. Hard to feel it. You can't find it. But it finds you. And sometimes, it can be the worse or the best thing that can happen to you. What would you do?
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He fell in love with the girl he had a one-night stand with. When her true nature revealed, he hated himself for loving her and decided never to see her again. However, his fate took an unexpected turn and entangled him in a contract marriage with her, turning the girl he despised into his temporary wife. Will their love-hate relationship lead to a deeper connection, or will it keep them forever bound by the terms of their contract? *** As I spank her, Grace questions in a surprised tone, "What was that?" "That was for leaving your husband alone in the pool," I respond in a teasing tone, seizing her waist and pulling her towards me, stealing her breath. "But, my dear husband, you're pissing me off. Just move away." She tries to break free from my grasp. "Stop moving, Mrs Grey!" "No, I won't listen to you, Mr Grey. You told me you don't want me, so why are you here again?" "I didn't say that I don't want you," I whisper, closing the distance between us, my lips nearing my angry wife's. "It means the same!" She rolls her eyes. "I want you so damn much, okay? And I'm ready to regret it again and again for doing this. Today, I'll show you how much I desire you, my wife." I confess, my fingers playing with her wet hair, and my hand still firmly gripping her waist. "So tell me. Who is stopping you, husband?"

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