Page 6 of Prince Cheating Charming

The country bumpkin wife who couldn’t keep her husband’s attention

My eyes filled with tears as I saw my adored husband’s golden face frown as he pushed away from Jewel.

“Mark, weren’t you supposed to be watching this door?” he asked sharply, his eyes on me.

He tucked his cock back in his pants, but there was something about that familiar motion, something he always did after we had lunch quickies or he had to get dressed for the day, that utterly broke me, and I turned and fled from the room.

The entire reception hall was packed, and I had to swerve around the tight crush of people, the tears blurring my vision, the eyes on me filling me with shame and embarrassment.

Even as I flew to my own quarters, panting with the tight laces of my dress, my brain was still trying to rationalize what I had just seen.

At least he was wearing a condom. . .

I practically threw myself into my bedroom, my head in a whirl, my stomach in knots. The tears were running down my face and I felt huge sobs begin to wrack my body.

This was my absolute worst nightmare. That I wasn’t enough for my husband. Wasn’t sexy enough, witty enough, smart enough, funny enough, that he had to go look for attention elsewhere.

And in front of practically the entire palace, too!

I wanted to throw up.

My mind kept going back to what I had seen. Jewel’s long glossy dark hair spilled over her back, those perfect tall legs spread and stretched so her pussy was tipped-up in the air, and my husband behind her, his hand bracing himself against the wall, and his hips jerking forward. His big cock deep inside her. . .

Oh fuck, I had been such a moron to think he really loved me. . .

Something jabbed me in the cheek, and I realized I still had my coronation gown on.

I looked numbly at myself in the mirror.

My eyes looked huge in my face, my mascara smeared with crying. With trembling fingers, I tried to undo my beautiful golden gown, only to realize that the backing was so intricate that I was going to need help. Someone else was going to have to help me and witness my humiliation.

Did Alexander want to divorce me?

Was he planning on telling me to leave?

Where had it all gone wrong?

I was ashamed and furious with myself that all I could think about, even when my husband had been caught publicly cheating on me, was whether he was going to send me away.

Then I heard a brisk knock on the door.

Was it Alexander coming to kick me out of the palace?

No, it was Libby.

“Thought you might want help getting out of your dress,” she said, her snappy voice unexpectedly gentle.

I nodded wordlessly.

“It’s not your fault,” Libby added.

But I couldn’t believe it, and shook my head, afraid I would start sobbing.

Clearly if I had been hotter, funnier, better, he wouldn’t have cheated.

There was silence for a moment, as Libby’s deft fingers freed me from my outer layer.

“I’ve seen some of your illustrations,” she said as she stepped away. “I’m not usually one for art, but they are really good. You’re worth ten of any of those other women, Delilah. I mean, Queen Delilah.”

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