His Vengeful Tradwife

1. Maverick

CHAPTER 1

Maverick

A lmost there, baby.

I can tell she's close.

By this time, I know her body almost as well as I know my own.

I rotate my hips, thrusting deeper into Amanda's pussy as she wraps her legs around me. We're both slick, dripping with sweat, after hours of fucking, but I want to bring her there one more time. Just one more time before I have to go back to my wife and kids.

“Yes, Maverick,” she cries. “You’re like a king, like a god in bed.”

Anything for the love of my life!

I can feel her clit rubbing against my belly, and her head falls back onto the pillow as her orgasm hits.

I groan, the feel of her soft, warm pussy milking me, the tight squeeze of her inner walls pulling a gasping ecstatic release from me as she always does.

We moan in delicious pleasure and collapse onto the bed together, our breathing in unison, our hearts beating as one.

I gently brush Amanda’s dark hair from her forehead and kiss her, letting my lips linger.

"I love you," I say. "Mon amour. My soulmate."

"I love you too," Amanda replies, burying her nose in my neck and snuggling closer. “With us it’s like this intellectual connection really deepens our oneness.”

"I wish I could have this all the time," I complain, as I always do. "Look how you fit into my arms so perfectly.”

She wraps her arm around my chest, both of us sticky and sweaty, but not caring. We just want to be close to each other.

Then she rolls onto her elbows and looks at me.

I stroke her cheek. It never gets boring looking at Amanda, with her sleek brunette hair, fringe, and snapping dark eyes. She’s so fascinating . We work together at a law firm, and she’s a brilliant, stunningly intelligent barrister with a razor-sharp mind.

"We can have this all the time," she says in her direct way. "Once you stop worrying about her feelings and tell your wife you want a divorce."

I hesitate, and nod slowly. "I know, I know. I’ve been putting it off, but I need to. It's just a difficult situation. She's the mother of my children , you know? And it's going to devastate her, shatter her whole world. I’m worried about how hard she’ll take it.”

Amanda kisses me, her lips lingering, lusty.

"I know, but isn't it better for her to find out the truth now that she's in a loveless marriage? And it's not fair to you to have to live a lie. Don’t you deserve to be with someone who is truly compatible with you on every level? Emotional, sexual, professional, and intellectual? Besides, it's not good for the kids to grow up with two parents who don't love each other."

"I know," I ground out. “Logically, you’re right, of course. But fuck, I’ll have to deal with all the crying and trying to change my mind. I just hope she can be somewhat discreet so the kids won’t get upset. They’ll see in time that this is the best choice for our family.”

Of course it has to be done, but there’s this big legal case coming up that I’ve been working on for months. But I need to stop putting it off and just tell her.

"You're such a good man," Amanda says, getting up out of bed and rummaging for her cigarettes. "But you deserve to be happy, too."

I watch her lithe, flexible body as she moves around the kitchen, and I can already feel my cock twitching, even though I'm motherfucking 40 years old and we've been having sex all afternoon. It's rare we get an afternoon together, so we wanted to make the most of it.

She snaps on the TV as I get up too, pulling my pants back on over my half-hard cock.

And, wouldn't you know, but there's my wife, getting interviewed by the local news.

"And now," the news anchor chirps, "we're so lucky to have Tallulah Laurent here, who runs the wildly popular A Pinch of Ginger tradwife TikTok channel, and I believe today she's going to teach us how to bake the perfect macarons."

Tallulah smiles sweetly at the news anchor. There are macarons spread out before her, the delicate meringue-based cookies bright and cheerful in shades of sunshine yellow, strawberry pink, cloud white, blueberry blue.

“These may look tricky to make,” she says in her light, musical little voice. “But with a little patience, you too can master them! They are a delightful treat to surprise your family with at the end of the day.”

Oh god, this is going to be so painful for her. Me and the kids are Tallulah’s whole world.

Amanda clears her throat in disgust. "It's all so backwards and patriarchal. She's literally performing for the male gaze." She shudders. "We've come so far and it's women like your wife who want to send us back to the 1950s. Just because I have a vagina doesn't mean I'm going to cook for you."

I laugh at her fiery speech. "I love your mind," I say. "You're the smartest person I know."

Then I rub her back as we just stand in the kitchen, holding each other. Two people madly in love.

"Do you think she has any idea?" Amanda asks. "Any idea that things aren't peachy-keen perfect in her little queendom?"

"I don't think so," I say.

My jaw aches from clenching it all the time. I know we can't go on like this, sneaking around to snatch a few secret moments with each other. My wife has adored me ever since we got married 9 years ago, and it’s been weighing heavily on me to know I’ll cause her pain. I know it's the right thing to do, and it's the only way I'll ever be truly happy and fulfilled, but I still haven't pulled the plug yet.

"How many more years of your life do you want to waste talking about goddamn macarons?" Amanda demands.

And, finally, I nod my head.

"All right," I say. "I'll tell her today.”

I go home turning every option over in my mind, trying to find the magic one that is gentle enough to keep Tallulah from falling apart.

When I finally arrive home, my balls are empty but my suit is still immaculate. I've been cheating on my wife for almost 6 months now and it's easy enough to cover my tracks, but it's goddamn exhausting.

It ends now. I'll feel a lot better if I just tell her the truth.

It's late when I get home, and Tallulah and the kids have already eaten. I can see my dinner still carefully wrapped in tinfoil and warming on the stove, as my wife always does when I have to work late. Which, between my latest case and snatching any time I can with Amanda, has been happening a lot lately.

My wife is sitting at the kitchen table drinking a cup of tea and organizing her box of dress patterns. It looks like she's got another sewing project going, making old-fashioned bonnets for her and the kids. The baby is probably already asleep, our other kids playing in the backyard.

There’s no better time to do it.

"Tallulah," I say, my voice suddenly sounding scratchy and strained.

She looks up.

In all ways, my wife is the opposite of Amanda. While Amanda is tall, lithe, and dresses in professional black or dark clothes, Tallulah has long auburn hair, creamy pale skin, and an hourglass figure that she often dresses in vintage-style 1950s swingy dresses with high necklines, always with a crisp little white apron over the skirt.

"We need to talk."

She cocks her head.

"Yes, Maverick? What did you want to say to me?"

I pull the chair out across from her and sit down at the table.

Oh, god, I'm about to destroy her life in a few short words, but I don't want to hurt her, not really. I just want out. For the last few seconds before her world is shattered, I pause to make sure I can find the right words.

I still care about her very deeply, of course, and don't want to give her unnecessary pain. We've had a good 9 years.

But Amanda is my soulmate.

I think it's best to just rip off the bandage.

"Tallulah, I want a divorce. I'm just not happy with you anymore, and I'm tired of pretending I am. And I'm sorry, but nothing you can say will change my mind. I've thought this for a long time."

My heart is pounding harder than I expected after my little speech, and the blood is rushing in my ears. About now is when I should start feeling free. Finally, after so many months, I've admitted the truth.

But instead of dissolving into tears, my wife's face doesn't change expression at all.

"All right, Maverick," Tallulah says, shrugging her shoulders. "If that's what you want we can go to the lawyer's tomorrow.”