10

Richard sat in the master bedroom, the one he used to share with Kendra, staring at the ceiling fan spinning lazily overhead.

The past few days had been a whirlwind of shit he never saw coming. The divorce papers were still fresh on the nightstand, unsigned in some places because his lawyer kept pushing for better terms.

But everything was crumbling. Contracts he’d been chasing for months were ghosted.

His reputation in their tight-knit business circle was in the toilet—whispers of “cheating bastard” followed him everywhere. Half his employees had already resigned, citing “personal reasons” that everyone knew were really about not wanting to work for the guy who blew up his marriage in spectacular fashion.

A bitter part of him regretted letting Kendra walk out that night. He should have swallowed his pride, dropped to his knees, faked the sorriest apology of his life, and begged her to stay. At least until things cooled off. But his ego wouldn’t let him. Not when Freya was waiting—Freya, the woman who actually understood him, who made him feel alive instead of trapped in the comfortable routine he’d built with Kendra.

The bathroom door clicked open, pulling him from his thoughts. Freya stepped out, wrapped in a silky white bathrobe that clung to her damp skin.

Her hair hung in wet strands around her shoulders, and her face glowed with that post-shower freshness. She looked like she belonged here. Like she’d always belonged.

“Babe,” she said softly, crossing the room with a sway in her hips. She leaned down and kissed his cheek, the scent of her vanilla body wash wrapping around him.

Richard grabbed her waist and pulled her onto his lap, her robe parting slightly as she settled against him. His hands rested on her thighs, thumbs stroking lazy circles.

“At least we’re together,” he murmured against her neck. “Nothing else matters.”

Freya grinned, looping her arms around his shoulders.

If he was talking like this, that means he's thinking about Kendra. “I told you to stop thinking about everything. Besides, it’s not the end of the world that Kendra took whatever she...”

“Don’t mention her name, please.” His voice came out sharper than he intended. Freya’s smile deepened with clear satisfaction, like she’d won another small victory.

She shifted closer, her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “I’ve actually wanted to ask you this question.”

“What question?” Richard leaned in, pressing slow kisses along the side of her neck. She tilted her head to give him better access, a soft hum of pleasure escaping her.

Freya hesitated just a second, then asked, “Did you and Kendra ever get intimate? Like… toward the end?”

He pulled back slightly, shaking his head with a look of pure disgust. “Eeew, I’d never get my dick inside her loose hole.” The words came out of him laced with irritation, like even the thought repulsed him.

“That part of our marriage died years ago. She was always too busy with work, too tired, too whatever. It wasn’t worth it.” A voice screamed inside him, he lied, he's the one that's always tired, too busy with work, Kendra was never tired.

Freya’s eyes lit up with visible relief. She smiled brightly, the tension melting from her shoulders. She’d been carrying that quiet fear for weeks—that Kendra might show up pregnant, trying to win him back with some miracle baby. But this confirmation was everything.

“Good,” she whispered, cupping his face. “I’ve always wanted you to myself, completely.”

“I’ve always been loyal to you, Freya,” he said, voice low and sincere. “Even when we had to sneak around and you know that.”

She kissed him then—deep, hungry, full of triumph. They grinned into the kiss, their teeth clicking, hands roaming each other's body. The robe slipped off one of her shoulders as she pressed closer, grinding lightly against his lap.

***

The next morning sunlight streamed through the windows, bathing the room in a warm golden glow. Richard woke with Freya wrapped tightly in his arms, her back against his chest, their legs tangled under the sheets. It still felt like a dream.

No more stolen hotel afternoons or quickies in the car. She lived here now, in the house that used to belong to another woman. And it felt right.

Freya stirred, stretching like a cat before turning to face him with a sleepy, satisfied smile.

“Morning, love.”

“Morning.” He kissed her forehead, then her lips, pulling her closer until there was no space between them.

“Best way to wake up,” he said.

They stayed like that for a while, trading lazy kisses and soft touches, and eventually, Richard tugged her toward the bathroom.

“Shower with me?”

She grinned. “Thought you’d never ask.”

The bathroom filled with steam as the hot water cascaded over them.

Freya stepped under the spray first, naked, sighing in pleasure as it soaked her hair.

Richard joined her, also naked, his hands sliding over her slick skin, soaping her shoulders, her breasts, down her stomach. She leaned back against him, feeling him already hard against her ass.

“Fuck, you’re insatiable,” she teased, reaching back to stroke him slowly.

“Can you blame me?” He nipped at her earlobe, one hand slipping between her legs to find her already wet. “Having you here every day… it’s driving me crazy in the best way.”

Freya turned in his arms, kissing him hard under the water. Their bodies pressed together, slippery and eager. Richard lifted her easily, pinning her back against the tiled wall. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he thrust into her in one smooth motion.

“Oh my baby,” Freya moaned, her head falling back against the tiles.

The stretch was perfect, the angle hitting deep with every roll of his hips. Water streamed down their joined bodies, making everything slicker, hotter.

Richard groaned, burying his face in her neck as he moved.

“So tight for me, baby. Always so fucking good.” His pace started steady but built quickly, driven by the weeks of finally having her without hiding. Skin slapped against skin, echoing off the walls alongside their gasps and curses.

“Harder,” she panted, nails digging into his shoulders. “Richard...give it to me!”

He obliged, snapping his hips faster, one hand braced on the wall, the other gripping her ass. Steam swirled around them, the heat of the water matching the fire between them. Freya’s moans grew louder, unrestrained, as pleasure coiled tight in her belly.

“I’m close..." she hissed in pleasure and he spanked her ass.

"...don’t stop,” she cried, clenching around him.

“Come for me,” he growled, thrusting deeper, grinding against her with every stroke. “Let me feel you.”

She shattered with a sharp cry, “Babyyy!” Her walls pulsed around him, pulling him over the edge with her.

Richard buried himself deeper inside her and came hard, groaning her name as he spilled inside her.

They stayed locked together for a minute, breathing heavily under the spray. Richard kissed her softly, tenderly, before carefully setting her down. They washed each other with gentle hands now—laughing when soap got in her eyes, stealing more kisses as they rinsed off.

After drying off, they moved back to the bedroom to get dressed. Freya slipped into a simple sundress, her skin still flushed from the shower. Richard pulled on jeans and a button-down, watching her with open appreciation.

“This is nice,” he said, stepping behind her to zip up her dress. “Waking up together. Showering together. No more sneaking around.”

Freya turned in his arms, smiling up at him. “It’s everything I wanted.”

They headed downstairs together, the house feeling lighter now that it was truly theirs.

Richard made coffee while Freya toasted bagels, the domesticity wrapping around them like a warm blanket. For the first time in weeks, the weight of the divorce, the lost contracts, the judgmental stares from former colleagues, didn't get to him.

He pulled her close again at the kitchen counter, kissing the top of her head. “We’re going to be fine. Better than fine, love, i promise.”

“I know,” she whispered, hugging him tight. “We’ve got each other.”

"I love you so much, and I promise to make you happy," he said sweetly, his voice full of warmth as he gazed into her eyes.

"I love you more," she whispered, leaning in to peck his lips tenderly.

“Let’s meet my family this evening. My mother wants to meet you,” he told her, and Freya smiled brightly, her heart fluttering with excitement.

"Really?" she asked, almost breathless.

"Yes. Now that Kendra is gone, we can finally get married, have babies, and build our happy life together," he replied, his tone filled with hope and affection.

"Have babies? That's too early!" Freya exclaimed, pulling back slightly. She wasn’t ready for childbirth yet; the idea felt overwhelming.

"What do you mean? Won’t we..." Before he could finish his sentence, his phone rang sharply in his pocket. It was his assistant calling. He answered it, stepping away and leaving Freya perched on the counter.

"Good morning, sir," his secretary greeted politely on the other end.

"Go straight to the point, please!" Richard half-yelled, impatience clear in his voice.

"The Reens company is hosting a party tomorrow, sir, and the CEO will be there. We can get a chance to talk to him or her."

Richard’s eyes lit up. “Perfect. Meeting the CEO could really boost our business—new partnerships, bigger deals. Make sure everything is prepared. I’ll be there.”