CHAPTER EIGHT: RISKY KNOCK

Emma’s pulse hammered wildly in her ears as the sharp knock echoed through the silent house. Her legs felt weak. She had sent the video barely fifteen minutes ago, the one where she was naked, moaning Marcus’s name like a whore while fucking herself with a thick dildo. What the hell had she been thinking?

She quickly wrapped a thin silk robe around her still-naked body and tied it loosely. Her nipples were still hard, her pussy still slick and throbbing from the multiple orgasms she’d given herself.

With her heart racing, she opened the door.

Marcus stood on the threshold, tall and imposing, phone in his hand. The screen was still lit with the video she had sent. His eyes were dark with raw, dangerous lust.

He didn’t say a word.

He stepped inside, kicked the door shut behind him, and grabbed her by the waist, pulling her flush against his hard body. Their mouths crashed together in a filthy, desperate kiss. Their teeth clashing and tongues fighting. Emma moaned loudly into his mouth as his hands roamed over her body, yanking the robe open and shoving it off her shoulders until it pooled at her feet.

“Fuck, Emma,” he growled against her lips, his voice thick with need. “You sent me that video while your husband is away? You really are a filthy little slut, aren’t you?”

His hands cupped her full breasts, thumbs roughly flicking her stiff nipples. Emma whimpered, arching into his touch. She was already soaked again, her thighs wet with her own arousal.

Marcus spun her around suddenly and marched her toward the living room couch. He shoved her forward so she was bent over the armrest, ass up, face pressed into the cushions. She heard the sound of his zipper, then felt the thick, hot length of his cock slap heavily against her bare ass.

He didn’t tease. He didn’t warn her.

He lined up and drove his cock straight into her dripping pussy in one brutal, deep thrust.

Emma cried out sharply, her fingers clawing at the couch fabric. The stretch was intense, almost painful, but so fucking good. Marcus groaned loudly, gripping her hips hard enough to leave bruises as he started pounding into her without mercy.

“God, you’re so fucking wet,” he rasped, slamming into her harder. “This married pussy is creaming all over my cock. You’ve been thinking about this, haven’t you?”

“Yes— fuck— Marcus!” Emma moaned shamelessly, pushing back to meet every powerful thrust. The wet, obscene sound of skin slapping skin filled the living room. His heavy balls slapped against her clit with every stroke, sending sparks of pleasure through her body.

Marcus reached around and rubbed her swollen clit in tight, fast circles while he fucked her relentlessly. Emma’s thighs began to shake violently. Her pussy clenched and fluttered around his thick cock.

“You like this, don’t you?” he growled, leaning over her back, biting her shoulder. “Getting fucked like a whore by your neighbor while your husband is gone.”

Emma could only moan brokenly, lost in the pleasure. She was so close, right on the edge.

Marcus fucked her even harder, his hips slamming against her ass. “Cum on my cock, Emma. Let me feel this pussy squeeze me.”

Just as her orgasm started to crest, her walls tightening around him, pleasure exploding through her body, the front door suddenly swung open.

Emma’s husband, Alex, stood frozen in the doorway, suitcase still in his hand, eyes wide with shock at the sight before him.

His wife bent over their couch.

Ass up.

Completely naked.

With their neighbor’s thick cock buried balls-deep inside her dripping pussy.

Marcus didn’t stop.

If anything, he kept thrusting, slower, deeper, more deliberate, his eyes locked boldly on Alex while Emma’s cunt spasmed violently around him in a helpless, shameful climax.

“Oh my god…” Emma whimpered, tears of overwhelming pleasure and panic streaming down her face as her orgasm continued to rip through her.

Alex stood there, stunned silent, staring at the erotic, forbidden scene playing out in his own living room.

Marcus smirked darkly, still buried deep inside Emma, and gave one slow, filthy thrust.

“Welcome home,” he said, voice low and taunting.