تسجيل الدخولThe next morning, Noah was gone before I woke up. "Business meeting," his brief note said, explaining that he would be back late. I didn't care. I took a long shower, letting the hot water wash over me. I thought about Larry. About his hands, his mouth, his cock. I soaped my body slowly, my hands gliding over my skin, imagining they were his hands. I washed my hair, conditioned it, and shaved my legs. I took my time, preparing myself for what was to come. When I finally stepped out of the shower, my skin was pink and tingling, and I felt more alive than I had in years. I dried off, wrapped myself in a robe, and walked to the nightstand. I pulled open the drawer to retrieve his card. I picked up my phone with a trembling hand. I slowly punched in the digits and dialed. It rang once. Twice. Three times. "He is not going to answer," I thought, a cold sweat breaking over my skin. It was just a one-time thing. He's forgotten about me already. I'm just another bored housewife he f
“You want it hard, baby?” Larry growled, his breathing turning rough and feral as my soaking walls gripped him like a vice. “Let’s see how much of this big dick you can take.” He suddenly picked up the pace, shifting from those heavy, torturous grinds into brutal, relentless lunges. His hips slammed violently against mine with loud, wet, echoing slaps that drowned out the quiet of the library. Every deep thrust hit directly against my most sensitive depths, making my vision blur with pure, unadulterated pleasure. “Ahhh! Yes! Right there! Faster! Harder yeeesss harder fuck me hard!” I shrieked hysterically, my eyes rolling back as the overwhelming friction built into a tidal wave. “Ruin me! Fuck me deeper! Ahnn-nn!” “Scream for me, Lisa. Let your husband hear how much better I drill this tight little pussy,” he talked dirty against my ear, his thrusts becoming heavier, faster, and completely merciless as he drilled into my core. “I’m your slut! Ahnn… yes! Fuck me harder! Oh god, I
He led me through the hallway, up a narrow set of stairs. I followed without question, my heart pounding, my mind racing. We stopped in front of a heavy wooden door. He pushed it open. It was a library. Old. Dusty. Shelves lined every wall, packed with leather-bound books. "What is this place?" I breathed. He walked toward me and held my cheeks up. “A place where your dream comes true.” "What are you talking about?” I whispered, though I already knew. His thumb traced along my jawline lightly. "The dream of being seen. Of being touched like you're precious. Of feeling like a woman again." My breath caught. "Larry… I." "Tell me to stop," he said, his voice low, rough. "Tell me you don't want this, and I'll walk you back to your husband and never bother you again." I stared into his eyes. They were warm, full of something I hadn't seen in years. "Just this once," I breathed. He kissed me. It was different, totally different from how Noah kissed me, which he barely did. Lar
The champagne glass was cold in my hand, but I didn't drink from it. I just held it, staring at the bubbles rising to the surface. Noah was across the ballroom, working the room like a politician running for office. I was just his arm candy. The pretty wife in the flashy designer dress he'd picked out. The silent ornament he showed off and then forgot. I watched him from across the room, this man I had promised to love for better or worse. He was handsome, I couldn't deny that. Women looked at him with hunger in their eyes. Men looked at him with envy. Everyone wanted to be Noah Reynolds or be fucked by him. But none of them knew what it was like to live with him. How did I end up here? The question haunted me every day. I had been twenty-four when I met him, fresh out of college, working at a gallery that he had visited for some charity event. He had swept me off my feet with his money and his confidence and his promises of a beautiful life. I had been young and naive and d
“Your decision doesn't matter." "Let me finish." He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped together. "Don't say a word." "I can't stop thinking about you." His voice cracked, raw and desperate. "And I don't think you can either." I stood up, my chair scraping against the floor. "This is inappropriate. I'm your therapist. Your married therapist." "You were my therapist." He stood up slowly, deliberately, his eyes never leaving mine. "Right now, you're just a woman who feels the same thing I do." "You flatter yourself a lot." "Look me in the eye and tell me I'm wrong.” I couldn't. The words died in my throat. I slowly opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Because I had thought about it. I had thought about it constantly. In the shower. In the car. In bed next to my husband. And that was the worst part of it. He saw the truth in my silence. He walked toward me slowly. I backed up until my hips hit my desk, the wood pressing against me, trappin
I moaned, my back arching off the cold floor, my fingers gripping his hair. He sucked and nibbled, alternating between my breasts, his tongue swirling over the tips, teasing them until they were rock hard, driving me wild. I could feel myself getting drenched, could feel the slickness between my thighs, soaking my panties with every heavy tug of his mouth. He sat up and unbuckled his belt, the metallic clink loud in the quiet room. He pulled down his jeans and boxers in one motion. He released his cock, hard and thick, veined and glistening with a bead of pre-cum at the tip. I felt a surge of desire so intense it made me dizzy. It had been so long since I had seen a man like this, since I had wanted one like this. He pulled off my slacks and panties, tossing them aside, leaving me naked on the tiles of my own office. He parted my knees, stretching my legs wide, and leaned over me, his gaze locked onto my face. He positioned himself between my legs, the blunt head of his cock p







