My Germaphobe Husband
Language: en
“Ash, please stop… It’s already so raw.” Tears streamed down my face as I slumped before the man in military uniform. His voice was gentle, yet his hands didn’t falter. “Unless it’s perfectly clean, I won’t come near you.” My husband, General Ashworth Thorne, was… peculiar. Not only did our monthly intimacy require a formal request from me, but before he’d even consider touching me, I had to undergo a full three-stage disinfection, inside and out. But then, on our fifth wedding anniversary, I found a ripped silk stocking in his car. When I confronted him, he merely turned the steering…