All Chapters of Her Dirty Little Games(An Erotica Collection): Chapter 41 - Chapter 45

GLORIAThe sermon had already begun, Michael’s voice rising and falling in rhythms from the pulpit. I sat stiffly, my hands clenched in my lap, my body still humming from what I had done that morning in the shower. The shame hadn’t left. Neither had the ache. Every word from my husband’s mouth made me want to scream.I couldn’t take it.With a quiet sigh, I slipped out of the row and walked toward the back, pretending to need fresh air. My heels clicked softly against the tiled floor until I reached the chair near the entrance, a seat no one ever paid much attention to.I sat there, my shoulders slumping, staring at the floor. My mind replayed everything from the morning… his cold eyes, his refusal, my own desperation under the shower. My chest squeezed tight… and then the doors opened.I looked up, startled, and saw a man stepping inside. Definitely not a regular face.He looked nothing like the polished, buttoned-up men who usually filled these seats.Everything about him screamed w

GLORIAAs the image loaded, my stomach flipped.“What the fuck…” I whispered, my voice strangled.It was his dick.The phone slipped from my hand, landing on the table with a dull thud. My breath came sharp, too fast, my whole body breaking into a cold sweat.This was it. This was where the line ended. I needed to stop this. End it. Block him. Report him to Michael… come clean and cut this temptation off before it dragged me deeper.I pushed back my chair and stood abruptly, my knees weak, my hand fumbling for the phone. But when my eyes fell on the dark screen, my pulse spiked again.He was huge.My throat went dry. Heat pooled low in my belly, rushing between my legs. I could tell that I was wet already. “Jesus…” I gasped, pressing a trembling hand to my chest. “No. No, no, no…”I squeezed my thighs together, shame flooding through me.This wasn’t me. This couldn’t be me.I was Michael’s wife. The pastor’s wife. A servant of God.And here I was, standing in the dining room of the pa

GLORIAHis house was fine.Too fine.A wide two-story with cream walls and black gates, the kind of place you only saw in glossy magazines. Neat hedges, a tiled driveway, a chandelier glowing warm through the front window.I sat there behind the wheel, staring like a fool, my palms slick against the steering.I got out, and my legs trembled as my heels clicked against the pavement, each step feeling heavier than the last. I clutched my purse tighter to my chest, whispering under my breath: “Pick the money. Walk out. That’s all. Pick the money. Walk out.”I reached the gate. It wasn’t even locked… just pushed open with the softest touch, like he’d been expecting me. My stomach twisted.The walk up to the door felt like a mile. My breath grew short, my knees weak, but somehow, my hand still rose to knock.Three soft knocks. My knuckles barely touched the wood.The silence stretched until finally… the door swung open.And there he was.Smirk curling his lips. Tattoos snaking under the co