Trapped in Ex-Wife's Love

"Are you sure you can get out of this trap, Arka? The trap you created for yourself long ago."

The sentence haunted Arka's mind every time he looked at the woman who was now sitting gracefully on his lap. Amidst the glimmer of crystal lamps and the sheen of a gold dress, his ex-wife, Kania, looked like a queen who had just reclaimed her throne.

Arka knew they were no longer bound by a sacred vow. Their divorce was final, signed on stamped paper years ago. Yet, in this private room, with the aroma of whiskey and Kania's challenging gaze, Arka once again became the helpless, foolish man.

Tonight was supposed to be the celebration of his new engagement. He was supposed to be celebrating a new chapter. But Kania's presence in the private lounge, in a high-slit dress that showed off her long legs, had ruined everything.

"You didn't have to come, Kania," Arka hissed, his voice choked.

Kania smiled cynically, caressing Arka's jaw with her cold fingers. "You're right, darling. I didn't have to come. But I had to make sure of one thing: that your heart... still belongs to me, just like before."

It turned out that getting out of the marriage was much easier than getting out of his ex-wife's love.

Arka was about to push away the woman's hand, which was now exploring his sensitive areas, but the old desire returned. Arka couldn't even catch his breath properly.

As if the hand-play had successfully locked him in, Kania, who was already playing the game down below, was of course smiling sweetly while looking at her ex-husband.

"How does it feel, darling? Isn't it good?"

Arka still couldn't process all those words; all he felt was a wave of pleasure that he hadn't experienced in a long time.

***

Arka’s hand, which had initially meant to brush her away, rose instead, squeezing Kania’s slender waist. It was an automatic, instinctive reaction. The heat spreading through his body didn't just come from the whisky he had downed so quickly, but from Kania’s touch—so familiar, so perfectly on point. He hated how easily that woman dismantled all his defenses with just a single touch and a look.

"Let me go, Kania," Arka tried hard to voice his rejection. However, his voice sounded hoarse, more like a plea than a command.

Kania chuckled, a light, ringing laugh that stood in stark contrast to the heated situation they had created. She leaned her body in, her lips approaching Arka’s ear. The scent of expensive perfume mixed with her distinct natural musk filled Arka’s senses.

"You don't want that, Arka. If you really wanted to be free of me, you wouldn't be holding me this tight," she whispered, her tone full of victory. Her fingers, which had been playing in a sensitive area, now moved up, touching Arka's shirt which already felt damp with sweat.

Kania’s game down there grew more intense. Arka closed his eyes, his head tilting back to rest against the back of the expensive leather sofa. All memories, all the reasons why he had left Kania, seemed to simply evaporate. All that remained was a crushing longing and an urgent need.

"You play dirty," Arka sighed.

"Of course I play dirty," Kania pulled her head back slightly, looking into Arka’s eyes with a gaze full of fiery passion. "I always knew your weaknesses. And I won't let another woman take what has been mine from the start."

Kania smirked; her smile was no longer sweet, but deadly. She draped her arms around Arka’s neck.

"Tonight, forget your engagement, forget your fiancée. Tonight, you go back to being my Arka. And we will finish what we left behind years ago," she said, before finally closing the distance between them.

Kania’s lips devoured Arka’s brutally, full of demand and unspoken longing. It was a kiss that erased the line between the past and the present, between sacred vows and betrayal. Arka could no longer hold back. He returned the kiss with equal intensity, letting himself be dragged into the vortex of passion that only Kania could create.

Suddenly, a loud knock on the private lounge door shattered the tense silence and killed their momentum.

"Mr. Arka? Are you inside? The engagement is about to start, everyone is looking for you." It was the voice of Arka’s personal assistant, sounding anxious.

Kania stopped the kiss, but she didn't move from Arka’s lap. She simply gave a faint smile, staring at Arka with gleaming eyes.

"Well, darling. The choice is in your hands now."

Arka seemed to be a slave to tonight's game; his demeanor, famously firm and respected by many, was now reduced to merely trying to regulate his breathing, which was still ragged from his ex-wife's treatment.

“You really are crazy, Kania! Get out of here, quickly, before someone sees you!”

But Kania did the exact opposite; she went back to devouring the man's lips lustfully. The breeze, which should have felt cold, now felt incredibly hot inside the room.

The window, which wasn't fully closed, made Arka worry; it was possible that someone else could see what was happening inside.

Just as Arka was about to remove the woman's panties—which had been incredibly arousing this whole time—the knock on the door sounded again, making Kania want to laugh even harder at the man's weakness.

"Keep going, baby!"

Kania didn't intend to sound commanding, but she wanted to test him—to see just how hard he had struggled to forget her all this time.

Tonight, Arka was like a puppy, obeying her every whim. He wasn't like this before; Arka used to be the one giving orders, but now, he was the man taking them.

"Aaaah," Kania moaned deliriously as he buried himself deep inside her.

Their bodies slick with sweat, they called out each other's names between gasps. As they fused together and Arka’s heart pounded harder against hers, Kania became convinced: his engagement was nothing but a formality.

After shifting positions countless times, they finally found their release, crashing over the edge together in perfect unison.

"Thank you, baby. I never doubted your skills," Kania whispered, licking her fingers.

"You’re insane! You’ve managed to drive me crazy for you all over again!" Arka snapped, hastily fixing his clothes.