The CEO's Cheating Wife-6

TESSA

By the sixth day on the island, I was unraveling. Every night I lay awake beside Victor, his steady breathing a constant reminder of the life I was destroying. Every morning I swore I would end it with Taylor. Every afternoon I failed.

The guilt had become a constant ache in my chest, heavier than the pleasure he gave me. I was no longer just cheating. I was addicted. I had become exactly what Taylor called me — a shameless office slut, a cheating trophy wife who got wetter the closer we came to getting caught.

Victor had planned a final celebration dinner on the private beach that night. Candles, wine, a chef flown in from the mainland. He seemed almost romantic for once, kissing my forehead and telling me he wanted to make up for being so busy.

I felt sick.

Taylor found me in the outdoor shower behind the villa while Victor was meeting with the chef. I had just stepped under the cool water, trying to wash away the shame of the morning when Taylor had fucked me against the glass wall of the study while Victor was on a call right outside.

“Taylor, no,” I whispered the second he stepped into the shower fully clothed. Water soaked his shirt instantly, clinging to his hard chest. “Not today. Please. Tonight is important to Victor. I cannot do this anymore. The guilt is killing me.”

He pressed me against the tiled wall, his hand sliding between my legs. “Your mouth says one thing, but this married pussy is already dripping down my fingers.”

I whimpered as he pushed two thick fingers inside me, stirring the remnants of his morning load. “I hate myself for this,” I gasped, tears mixing with the shower water. “I am a horrible wife. I do not deserve him. But I cannot stop wanting you.”

Taylor kissed me hard, almost angrily. “Then stop pretending you want to be good.”

He dropped to his knees in the running water and devoured my pussy like a man possessed. His tongue fucked me deep while his fingers rubbed my clit in fast, ruthless circles. I came within minutes, legs shaking, biting my own arm to stay quiet as fresh juices ran down his chin.

He stood up, turned me around, and bent me over. His thick cock slammed into me in one savage thrust. The wet slap of his hips against my ass echoed in the small shower stall.

“Fuck, Tessa,” he groaned, pounding me mercilessly. “This is the last time I am going to fuck you before we fly back tomorrow. I want you to remember who owns this cunt.”

Every brutal stroke pushed me harder against the tiles. My tits bounced heavily. Water cascaded over our joined bodies. I was crying from both guilt and overwhelming pleasure.

“I should tell Victor everything,” I sobbed between moans. “I should end this right now.”

“Then why are you pushing back on my cock like a desperate whore?” Taylor growled, reaching around to slap my clit lightly. “Why are you creaming so hard for me?”

I came again, violently, my pussy spasming and gushing around his thickness. Taylor did not stop. He fucked me through it, then pulled out, spun me around, and lifted one of my legs. He thrust back in, staring into my eyes as he railed me.

“Tell me you are going to leave him for me,” he demanded.

I shook my head, tears streaming. “I cannot… he is my husband.”

Taylor fucked me harder, almost punishingly. “Then at least admit you love my cum more than his attention.”

“I do,” I broke, voice cracking. “I love how full you make me. I love being your slut.”

That was all it took. Taylor buried himself deep and came with a guttural groan, flooding my pussy with thick, hot ropes of cum. He kept grinding, pushing it as deep as possible until it overflowed and ran down my thighs, mixing with the shower water.

We barely had time to clean up before dinner.

The beach dinner was beautiful. Candlelight, soft music, the ocean gently lapping at the shore. Victor sat beside me, holding my hand, talking about future plans. Taylor sat across from us, looking perfectly composed.

But under the long table, Taylor’s bare foot kept pressing between my legs, rubbing my cum-soaked pussy through my thin dress. I was leaking his load onto the chair.

Halfway through the main course, Victor got up to speak with the chef about dessert.

The second he walked away, Taylor stood, grabbed my hand, and pulled me into the shadows behind a cluster of palm trees just off the beach.

“Taylor, stop,” I begged, even as I let him push me against a tree. “He will notice we are gone.”

He yanked my dress up, pulled my soaked panties aside, and thrust into me again. I was still full of his earlier cum, making every stroke loud and filthy.

“I need one more load in you before we leave this island,” he growled, fucking me hard against the tree. “Want you flying home tomorrow sitting next to your husband with my cum leaking out of you the entire trip.”

I moaned helplessly, legs wrapped around him as he pounded me. The guilt was overwhelming, but so was the pleasure. I came twice more, biting his shoulder to stay quiet.

Finally, Taylor buried himself deep and filled me one last time, groaning my name as he pumped me full.

We returned to the table flushed and disheveled just as Victor came back. He frowned slightly but said nothing.

Later that night, as we packed for tomorrow’s flight, Victor pulled me aside.

“Tessa,” he said quietly, “I know things have been strained. But I have something to tell you. I’m thinking of promoting Taylor… and making him a full business partner. He will be around a lot more from now on. I trust him completely.”

My stomach dropped. I felt Taylor’s latest load still slowly leaking down my thigh as Victor smiled at me proudly.

Taylor stood in the doorway behind him, eyes dark with satisfaction.

He had won.

And I realized, with a fresh wave of shame and twisted excitement, that I no longer wanted this to end.