His Forbidden Mistress

“Please…”

I was gasping, my voice catching in my throat as I looked at David lustfully.

Every part of me was screaming for more.

“Faster…” I whispered, the words tumbling out of my mouth in a desperate plea.

I was begging but David immediately clamped his hand over my mouth.

His palm was warm, smelling faintly of expensive cologne and the scotch he’d been drinking earlier. He leaned in close, his eyes dark and intense, pinning me against the cold, hard wood of the wall.

“Shh,” he hissed.

“Don’t be too loud. My wife will hear us.”

I closed my eyes tight.

I did the only thing I could—I curled my toes against the carpet, my nails digging into his shoulders.

I tried to suppress the urge to scream. Every time he thrust, I felt the friction of his long cock, the overwhelming sensation of him inside me.

It was too much. I was losing my mind!

Then, the sound we both feared echoed through the house.

“Honey? Are you almost done in there?”

It was Cyndrel.

She was just downstairs, probably finishing up dinner, completely unaware that her husband was fucking his mistress in his study.

My eyes flew open, and I looked at David with pure panic.

My eyes pleaded with him, silently begging him to finish this before we were caught.

He increased the pace, his thrusts becoming harder and more urgent. He was relentless, his movements powerful as he drove us both toward our climax.

I buried my face in his neck to muffle my cries.

I could feel the tension building, a coil tightening in my chest until it finally snapped.

We both hit that peak at the same time that left me shaking and weak in the knees. I let out a long, shaky breath against his skin, my body slumped against his chest as the adrenaline began to fade.

“Fix yourself,” he whispered, his voice returning to its professional, detached tone.

I scrambled to compose myself.

My hands were shaking so badly I could barely straighten my skirt or button my blouse.

I forced myself to sit down in one of the guest chairs across from his desk. I smoothed my clothes over my lap, trying to slow my racing heart.

Across from me, David sat in his large leather swivel chair. He adjusted his tie, smoothed his hair, and opened a folder on his desk like nothing had happened.

The door creaked open. Cyndrel walked in, a wide, genuine smile on her face. She looked so beautiful.

“Oh, it looks like you two are still in the middle of a meeting,” she said, looking from David to me.

I forced a nod, my neck feeling stiff.

“Yes, Sir... was just finishing up the quarterly projections,” I said.

“Well, don’t let me interrupt the hard work,” she chirped, walking over to David and placing a hand on his shoulder. She kissed his cheek.

He placed his hand over her and smiled. For some reason, that made me flinch, so I had to look away.

“We’re almost done, honey,” he said smoothly.

“Just a few more details to go over with Sandra.”

“I’ll leave you to it, then. Dinner is almost ready. You can eat here too, Sandra, for helping my husband run the company,” she said, giving me a friendly wave before heading back outside.

As the door clicked shut, the silence in the room became suffocating.

I hadn’t realized I was holding my breath.

I looked over at David, expecting him to come back to me, to touch me again.

Instead, he was staring at me. His eyes weren’t filled with passion anymore. They were filled with something that looked like disgust.

“I think we need to stop this.”

My heart dropped into my stomach.

“What?”

He stood up abruptly, the legs of his expensive swivel chair screeching against the floor.

He leaned forward, slamming his palms onto the mahogany surface of the desk.

“I can’t keep cheating on my wife with you, Sandra. This has gone too far.”

The panic started to set in. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He was my ticket out, my only way to breathe in a world that was trying to drown me!

“David, please,” I said, moving toward him.

“I don’t want to stop. I won’t let you!”

I threatened, my voice shaking with a mix of fear and rage, “I’ll tell her! I’ll go downstairs right now and tell Cyndrel exactly what her husband does in his study while she’s cooking dinner!”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he snarled. He looked like he wanted to jump across the desk and throttle me.

“David, you agreed to this setup a long time ago,” I said, rounding the desk to get into his space.

I sat on his lap, wrapping my arms around his neck and smiling at him.

“We’ve been doing this behind her back for a while now. You give me pleasure, David. I’m happy when I’m with you. Don’t tell me you aren’t happy, too. Can’t you feel how much I want you? How much my body reacts every time you even look at me?”

I reached out and took his hand. I forced it onto my breast, pressing his palm flat against my racing heart.

“Doesn’t it arouse you?” I whispered, looking up at him through my lashes.

“Knowing you can have me whenever you want? Knowing how it feels when you’re pounding inside of me?”

“Shut up!” he yelled.

He jerked his hand away as if I were made of fire, then pushed me away in a way that stung.

For a split second, I saw his gaze drop to my chest, and I knew I had him. I saw the hunger in his eyes fight against his guilt.

But then, the guilt won.

He straightened his suit jacket, his expression turning stone-cold. He pointed a finger toward the door.

“You were just a stripper I found at a bar, Sandra. That’s all you are,” he spat.

“I was drunk that night because I’d had a fight with my wife. It was supposed to be a one-night stand. A mistake. But you kept coming back.”

I felt like he had slapped me.

My bottom lip trembled as the reality of his words sank in. To him, I was just a ghost of a bad night, a dirty secret he was tired of keeping.

“I don’t want to see you here ever again,” he continued.

“We’ve been doing, and it ends now. Get out.”

I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood.

There was a dull, heavy ache in my chest that made it hard to move. He didn’t care. He was just using me to fill a void, and now that the void was full, he was throwing me away like trash.

“Y-You’re such a coward,” I said, my voice cracking.

I turned my back on him.

I didn’t want him to see the tears that were finally starting to blur my vision.

I walked to the door and didn’t look back.

When I left the house, I didn’t stop to say goodbye to Cyndrel.

I couldn’t bear to look at her kind face, not when I was carrying the weight of what I’d done.

A part of me was disgusted with myself—disgusted by the lying and the cheating.

But as I walked down the driveway into the cold night air, the fear returned.

I needed David.

I needed his money, his influence, and the way he made me feel like I was more than just a girl from the streets.

I needed him to pull me out of the poverty that was waiting to swallow me whole.

And as the gates of his estate closed behind me, I knew I couldn’t just let him go.