Part 2 Aiden
I left the bar with Jake's parting words weighing heavily on my mind. I couldn't shake what he had said, something that had never occurred to me before. Was I completely ignorant of what my family was feeling? Kayden, my sixteen-year-old son—he was old enough to make his own conclusions. And Chloe, at fourteen, was sensitive and perceptive, always attuned to the emotions of those around her. It was very possible that they had noticed something.
I tried really hard to remember if they had ever said or suggested that something was wrong. But I was so caught up in my own suffering that I couldn't see anything else. My pain had blinded me, that I may have failed to notice the subtle signs they might have given. Knowing that I might have been too focused on my own problems to notice them only made me feel even guiltier than before.
When I entered my bedroom, it was already 2 a.m. The room was quiet; the only sound was the soft hum of the air conditioning. I settled into the couch in the corner of the room, under the big arched window, the one Asha always favored when she had the time to lose herself in a book. From here, I could watch her as she slept, listening to her steady, peaceful breathing.
My mind wandered, inevitably drawing comparisons between the two women who had so profoundly shaped my life. It was a habit I couldn't break, silently measuring them against each other in my thoughts.
Asha, with her natural elegance and confidence, was the strongest, the smartest person I knew. Her success came from that strength, yet she was never pretentious, even with her stunning beauty. She had an almost ethereal look, setting her a little apart from the rest of us. She was tall and slender, with milky white skin that somehow always seemed to glow. Her light blonde hair was always set in natural loose waves above her shoulders, perfectly framing her oval-shaped face. Her green eyes had a sharp, knowing look that could pierce right through you, making you feel exposed, as if she could see right through you. Asha had the kindest heart, even though she often appeared cold and indifferent. She was honest and as real as they came—fierce, but to the people she was most comfortable with, she could be endearingly hilarious.
Vanessa was petite and curvy, with naturally tanned skin and inky black, long, wavy hair that was unruly most of the time. It endlessly frustrated her, which I always found so amusing. She was soft and squeezable everywhere, and I helplessly couldn't keep my hands off her. Her warm, golden eyes would look at you like you were her entire world, like you were the only person she saw. She had a gentle and delicate way about her that made you want to keep her safe from any harm, and she was always cheerful and spontaneous, which I found very charming, like a bright sunbeam breaking through a cloudy sky.
Everything about Vanessa was a stark contrast to Asha's, though both women commanded attention in their own right. Their ways of doing so were distinctly different. While Asha was born to conquer and lead the world, Vanessa was born to serve, to be a source of support and light, rather than to lead.
Asha proved her capabilities when she became CEO of one of the world's largest steel companies, starting from nothing and climbing steadily to the top through hard work. My path was different. I inherited my position. My father and grandfather built the company's foundation long before I took over. As the sole heir, I ended up leading one of the biggest agricultural companies in the world, not by earning it, but by inheritance.
My father's admiration for Asha was clear, especially in the way he spoke about her achievements—an admiration that often felt like a silent critique of my own accomplishments. He had clearly acknowledged her success, and to be honest, I couldn't argue with him. If I were in Asha's shoes, starting from nothing and rising to where she is today, I wasn't sure I would have had the same success.
Yet, despite the power she wielded in her professional life, Asha was a different person at home. She was a devoted mother and wife, and in our private life, she was surprisingly completely submissive to me. For those who didn't know us well, this dynamic might have been hard to believe.
Especially with sex. She would kneel at my feet and pleasure me, prioritizing my needs instead of her own. I would tie her up in our bed or spank her ass until it was red and purple, and she couldn't sit up straight for days. I would force myself into her mouth and hold her head there long enough until she tapped my thighs so that I would let her breathe. I would punish her for not obeying something that I asked her for, and I denied her pleasure for days while she served me compliantly every time I wanted it.
She loved being submissive. I could see that in the way she responded. And I loved giving it to her. But after years, especially after we had Chloe, she changed. Her submission sometimes felt strained, almost as if it was too much. There were moments when it seemed like I was forcing her, not because she resisted, but because her passion didn't burn as fiercely as mine. It was as if she was doing it out of obligation, fulfilling a role as my wife rather than truly wanting me in the same unbidden, scorching way I wanted her. After many years, our lovemaking became dull. Unexciting. Monotonous.
Then suddenly, there was no fire anymore.
We had been married for eighteen years, together for twenty. Before Asha, there had only been one other girl in my life, a girl that I dated for six weeks—until Vanessa came along. But for Asha, as far as I knew, I was the only man she had ever been with. Maybe it was natural for the fire in our relationship to wane after so many years. But for me, that wasn't the case. The pent-up, blazing desire inside me still burned fiercely, desperate to be released. It was a fire that refused to die. Stubbornly and vigorously living inside my chest, inside my head.
And it was that fire, that relentless desire, that Vanessa came into my life to fulfill. She reignited a spark in me I thought was long gone. She became the outlet for the passion that still raged inside me, that I didn't realize I still craved, but couldn't find at home.
My mind kept replaying the last time I was with Vanessa. It went over and over in my head, and it consumed me so much that I could not focus on anything else that went on around me. It was the time when we rented a small cabin by the woods, private and secluded, disconnecting us from the rest of the world. We spent two nights and three days there and practically never left the cabin. The entire time, she wore the threadbare oversized shirt that she used to wear to bed and nothing else, taunting me relentlessly with the way the thin, soft fabric molded her bare breasts, her pebbled nipples poked through, begging to be pinched.
My hands could not stop touching her at every opportunity. I grabbed her when she walked past by me to squeeze her plump ass, massage her breasts, or bite the hardened pebbles over the fabric. She squealed and laughed, trying to push me away, but it only made me come back for more and more and more. I held her from behind when she was cooking, kissing her shoulders, her neck. My hands roamed around her front, under her shirt, until we were both consumed with overwhelming need and couldn't hold back any longer. Dinner was simply forgotten. I pushed my boxers down, plunging myself into her warm, tight hole. She was already drenched and ready for me. She was always ready for me.
We were in the living room, slouched side by side on the couch, while the daylight was still streaming in. She was watching a Netflix movie on the big screen while I was busy devouring her, slipping my hand inside her shirt and caressing her soft skin fervently. I kissed her, licked her and nibbled her nonstop like I was on a mission. I slid my hands in between her legs and began to rub while languidly sucking her succulent nipple, earning her adorable scowl for ruining her concentration entirely. Not long after, her scowl morphed into a lustful expression and her shameless moaning echoed around the room. My mouth joined my hand, and I savored the best fucking taste I ever had in my life.
At night, when we were in bed, we talked and kissed for a long time. Our kisses were slow but filled with deep passion, treasuring every moment, knowing that this was short-lived and we were temporarily living in a dream. I whispered to her, "I love you, Vee. My heart is bursting with my love for you. All I can see is you." And I begged her. "Promise me you'll always stay with me." Then, I would take my time worshiping every inch of her, making sure that she screamed my name again and again.
Two days after we came back to the real world, she told me she was leaving me.
Asha stirred in her sleep, rolling to her side until she faced me. Sensing my presence in the room, her eyes fluttered open, fighting the haze from sleep as she found me sitting there, watching her. Those green eyes, the most mesmerizing I had ever seen, widened as she took sight of me. "You're back," she rasped sleepily, rubbing her eyes. "What time is it?"
"Just a little after 2," I replied softly.
She lifted her head, propping it on her folded forearm as she squinted in the dim light. "Where were you?"
"At a bar," I said, truthfully. I had promised myself that I would never lie to her again. I just needed to figure out how to not do anything that would make it hard for me, to be honest again.
"With whom?" she asked, frowning.
"Alone."
"Not even with Roy?"
I shook my head. Roy was my driver, and he was usually by my side when I was out of home or out of the office. "He waited outside." I wanted to wallow in my misery alone. Even though Roy knew about my affair, as he was the one who drove me to Vanessa's apartment back and forth, and he knew perfectly well how it destroyed me when she left, I still didn't want him to see me falling apart like that.
"Why were you at a bar?" she asked, frowning, and I wondered if she was thinking I was with another woman. But she didn't say it. She never confronted me.
"I needed a drink. Or two. Or three," I said, a bitter chuckle escaping me. I was sober now, but I wished that I still felt the numbness from the six glasses of whiskey I consumed earlier.
"Something wrong?"
"No," I said, shaking my head slowly. My nerves gradually eased as I looked at her. She had a way of calming my perpetually anxious mind. "Not anymore."
"Okay," she said, her voice soft but laced with doubt. I could tell she wasn't entirely convinced by my response.
We stared at each other in silence as I admired her beauty. Her eyes, even filled with worry, couldn't hide the boundless love she had for me. I was reminded once again of how I truly didn't deserve her.
"Come here," I whispered. My voice was gentle as it floated through the room. She heard me clearly, and without hesitation, regardless of how disoriented she still was, she rose from the bed. Her hair was a ruffled mess, her black satin nightgown flowed gracefully over her perfect figure, the color a beautiful contrast to her pale skin. She moved towards me like a serene vision, a silhouette of a goddess.
When she reached me, I gently guided her to sit on my lap. Her hands rested lightly on my chest; her eyes locked onto mine. "What's wrong, Aiden?"
I shook my head. "Nothing is wrong, now that I see you."
"Are you drunk?" she asked, her eyes narrowing as she searched my face for any sign of intoxication. "You reeked of alcohol."
I wrapped my arms around her slim waist, holding her tightly, perhaps too tightly, as if she might slip away if I didn't. Then I buried my face in the curve of her neck, breathing in her familiar scent. She stroked my back gently, her touch soothing as I pulled her even closer. I held on to her with desperate strength, hoping—God, how I was hoping—that she could somehow cure the pain that was tearing me apart.
"I'm not," I mumbled against her skin. "I promise."
"Okay." She rubbed my back again and pressed her cheek onto mine. "Let's sleep. It's late."
"I love you," I whispered in her ear, my hold tightened around her. "You know that, don't you?"
She was quiet for a moment, letting the silence linger as panic descended on me before finally saying, "I love you, Aiden."
I pulled away slightly, just enough to look into her eyes. "I need you to say that you know I love you."
"I know." She said, her eyes roaming around my face, looking confused. "Yes, I know."
"I never knew what I did to deserve you. I know I don't deserve you," I said, my voice thick with emotion. "But I will try harder to be the man worthy of you."
She looked at me with confusion. "Why are you saying this, Aiden?"
I was breaking apart. The emotions I usually kept so tightly controlled were unraveling. Asha had every reason to be worried, every reason to be suspicious. I wasn't the kind of man who showed emotions easily—I was known for being cold, distant, before Vanessa turned me into a hopelessly desperate man. But I didn't realize, not until much later, that I wasn't emotional because Vanessa was consuming my thoughts. It was Asha, and the overwhelming appreciation I felt for her. My love for her, so often buried under layers of guilt, was now bursting inside my chest, so powerful that it felt like it might tear me apart.
I kissed her. I needed to kiss her. I kissed with a frantic need, losing myself in that kiss as if it were the first meal a starved man had in days. Her sigh against my lips, the way her arms wrapped around my neck, and her complete surrender to the kiss told me she was equally lost in the moment. As I looked back on those nights when I neglected her, remembering how she clawed and clung onto me like I just returned to her after being away for years, I realized how much she had missed me. How desperate she was for my touch. And despite how I treated her, she stood by me and still very much loved every piece of my worthless, pathetic soul.
"I need you," I rasped, pulled down the straps of her nightgown, revealing the perfect swell of her bare breast, still round and full even fourteen years after she gave birth to our youngest child. I dipped my head and kissed the curve of her breast, while my hand massaged the other, making her eyes flutter with pleasure. I was already hard under her as I moved her hips with both my hands and grinding her onto me. "Make love to me, Asha."
Her eyes blazed with passion, love, and fire as she gave me a heart-twisting smile, took my face in between her hands, and slammed her lips into mine before I could react, breathe, or even think. We kissed like savages. My tongue tasted her, plunging into her as she accepted it deeper into her mouth. We bit each other. Her fingers dug into my hair, my hands roamed over her bare back, down her arms, and then I tore my lips away to trail burning kisses, nipping, grazing my teeth over her neck, her shoulder, her throat, her breasts.
"Aiden," She breathed, as I latched my teeth into one of her pert nipples and sucked hard. When I moved to the other, her fingers already worked on my belt, my zipper, and tugged it down enough to pull out my swollen, needy shaft. I was so hard; it slapped against my abs with a smack when released from its confinement. She stared at it with heavy breathing for a moment.
"Look at that, baby." I rasped, as I palmed my erection with my right hand, slowly working the length up and down, and then I squeezed. Beads of moisture leaking from the tip. "I want you to ride me."
As if she could not wait a second longer, she took no time before she lifted herself up and slid her panties to the side, then sunk into me.
We groaned in unison as she sank down fully. She was already so slick that I did not have to wait for her to adjust to my size like always. I was harder for her than I had been in months, my body responding to her in a way it hadn't for so long. As she began to move her hips, sliding out slowly before pushing back in. I buried my face in between her breasts, holding onto her tightly to keep her steady. Her name became a mantra on my lips, to remind myself that it was Asha, my wife, who I was making love to—not Vanessa, whose image I should have banished from my mind long ago.
Asha's movements became more frantic, more urgent, as she chased her release with wild abandon. She kissed me hard, biting my bottom lip as she rocked against me faster, and I responded with equal intensity. My teeth grazed her neck, and she bit me back, the sharp sensation sending jolts of pleasure through me. I pressed my forehead against hers, our breaths mingling as we panted together, and I stared into her face in awe, captivated by her beauty.
Asha had always been beautiful, but in that moment, she was even more so. She was unguarded, her usual composure gone, her sighs and moans were raw and urgent. She repeatedly panted, "More, Aiden. Harder." She was completely surrendered to her desire, and it made her seem almost unreal. And for a moment, the strong connection drowned any thoughts of Vanessa.
I was already so deep inside her, but she kept trying to push herself down further, as if it wasn't enough. Normally, she always put my pleasure before her own, always attentive to my needs to the point that it felt deliberate. Methodical. But now, she was greedy, as though she needed to feel every part of me fill some void inside her. She became selfish, prioritizing her own pleasure before mine. The intensity of her desire surprised me, and it made me realize just how much she had been holding back, how much she needed me in ways I so callously ignored.
I gripped her hips so tight they might bruise, and I rocked her against me relentlessly. I was without mercy. I pumped myself up to meet every single one of her thrusts; my movement was grueling, punishing. She took and took, pushing my chest, pulling my neck, sucking my lips, biting me, as she rocked against me wildly.
"Baby," My whispers were terse, and I couldn't hold on much longer. I slid my hand in between us and rubbed the pleasure button so that she would reach her climax faster. I didn't want to come before her. I wanted to see her shattered while I was inside her, her thoughts overtaken by nothing but pleasure and me. I kissed her roughly and growled against her mouth. "Come for me."
And like the perfect submissive that she was, Asha came upon command. She came hard. The climax seemed to detonate inside her. Her body arched so far to the back that she almost fell from my lap, if not for my hands holding her hips. She writhes and squirmed, contracting against me, squeezing me hard almost to the point of pain. And she screamed; the sound was hoarse and guttural, like it was searing at her throat, not caring even a little what she sounded like. She screamed so loud that I was certain Kayden, whose room was the closest to us, would hear. Her climax went on and on, rippling through her as her body shook against me, and I couldn't hold it anymore. I slammed myself up to her so fast and hard, coming inside her.
I roared as fireworks exploded inside my head. The veins in my neck strained, pulling tight, while my vision blackened, a high-pitched ringing that drowned out everything else replaced my hearing. I was levitating out of my body, panting, shaking and twitching, and it was only after a few seconds, when my senses slowly returned, that I realized Asha had been watching me with some kind of awe. Her mouth slightly opened, her cheeks beautifully flushed, and her eyes were sultry, clouded with lust.
I felt my shaft immediately fill again, finding her looking at me like that. "Baby," I grunted, my hips were already moving upwards, ready for action. "I want one more."