MasukSofia woke up to the feeling of being watched. Alejandro was still asleep beside her, his breathing a soft, rhythmic snore, but the feeling was different. It was a predatory gaze, a weight on her skin. She turned her head slowly, her heart seizing. Lucas was standing in the doorway of the bathroom, leaning against the frame, naked, his phone in his hand. He gave her a slow, wicked smirk.Her own phone, on the nightstand, buzzed. With a trembling hand, she reached for it. A message from an unknown number. She opened it. It was a picture. Her. Naked. Sprawled on the couch, her legs spread, her face a mask of post-orgasmic bliss. The photo was taken from an angle that clearly showed Lucas’s muscular thigh and the base of his cock where it entered her. It was obscene. It was undeniable.The text that followed was short and to the point. Good morning, my beautiful whore. Remember this today.She dropped the phone as if it burned her. She was trapped. Completely and utterly trapped.At brea
Alejandro smiled, a kind, oblivious expression that made her want to scream. “Well, that’s wonderful. We should always take care of each other.” He held out a hand to help her up. “Come on, mi amor. You look pale. Let’s get you to bed.”She placed her trembling hand in his, letting him pull her to her feet. She couldn’t meet his eyes. She could only feel Lucas’s gaze on her, a physical weight, hot and triumphant. He had won. He had stood there, his cock still wet from her mouth, and lied to her husband’s face while she knelt at his feet.“I’m just a little dizzy,” Sofia mumbled, the lie tasting like ash in her mouth. “The migraine…”“Of course, of course,” Alejandro said, his arm wrapping around her shoulders, guiding her from the room. “You need to rest. I’ve got you.”She risked a glance back. Lucas was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, a slow, arrogant smirk playing on his lips. He watched her being led away by her husband, and the look in his eyes was one
Alejandro’s voice, cheerful and loving, was a physical blow, a wave of ice water thrown on the fire of their illicit coupling. Sofia’s entire body went rigid, a statue of terror carved from flesh and bone. Every muscle seized, her lungs refusing to draw air, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.But Lucas didn’t stop.He remained inside her, a hot, thick, and deeply unsettling presence. He didn’t even flinch. Instead, a slow, predatory smile spread across his face, a look of pure, unadulterated triumph in his eyes. He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of her ear, his voice a low, possessive whisper that was far more terrifying than a shout.“He’s home. And my cock is still inside you. Feel that? That’s my cum in you, marking you as mine. Now, you’re going to be a good girl and smile for your husband.”A soft, choked sob escaped her lips. Her hands, which had been clawing at his back, now pushed weakly against his chest, a futile gesture of denial. He was imm
“Good girl,” he purred, his voice a low, possessive rumble that vibrated through her very bones. “You’re a much better liar than I thought. That was hot. Listening to you tell him you loved him while my fingers were knuckle-deep in your cheating cunt.”Shame, hot and acidic, warred with the dark thrill that shot through her. She should have been horrified, repulsed. Instead, her pussy gave a traitorous clench, a fresh wave of slick heat coating her thighs. He saw it, of course he saw it. His smirk widened.“Look at you,” he taunted, stepping back and gesturing to the kitchen. “A mess. We made a mess. Clean it up.”Sofia slid off the island, her legs weak, his cum trickling down her inner thighs. She looked at the scattered breakfast plates, the spilled coffee. “What?”“You heard me,” he said, his voice dropping to a dangerously soft tone. He pulled a chair out from the table and sat, spreading his legs, his half-hard cock resting on his thigh like a sleeping serpent. “Naked. I want to
Sofia’s eyes fluttered open, and the first thing she felt was the ache. A deep, insistent soreness between her thighs, a delicious, punishing reminder of how thoroughly she had been fucked. The second thing she felt was the sticky, cooling mess on her skin and the sheets, the tangible evidence of her sin. She was alone.Panic, cold and sharp, lanced through her. She sat up, the duvet pooling around her waist, and the ruined t-shirt, her last flimsy shield, lay in tatters on the floor. Her body was a roadmap of his possession—faint bruises on her hips where he’d gripped her, a tender mark on her breast where he’d bitten, the raw sensitivity of her nipples and her well-used pussy. She looked at the other side of the bed, at the indentation on the pillow where his head had been. The scent of him was still there, mingled with the musky, unmistakable smell of sex.What had she done? The question was a scream in her head. You became exactly what he said you were, a treacherous voice whispe
The day after the kitchen counter sin dragged on like sweet torture, every hour stretching longer than the last while my body hummed with the memory of his fingers buried deep inside me, curling mercilessly until I shattered around them, gushing over his hand in a flood I could not control or forget. I avoided him all morning, locking myself in the study with emails I barely read, thighs pressed together under the desk as fresh wetness gathered between them every time I shifted and felt the faint soreness he had left behind, a delicious ache that made my clit throb with renewed hunger. Lunch was tense and silent on the terrace, him sitting across from me in nothing but those low-slung shorts, eyes tracing the curve of my breasts under my thin blouse, smirking every time I squirmed in my seat, knowing exactly why my cheeks flushed and my nipples hardened against the fabric.By evening the anticipation had become unbearable, my skin feverish, pussy slick and empty no matter how many tim







