Chapter 15- Sam
This was reckless, but it felt good. We had said the first time would be the only time. Then agreed on just one time. Now we were five times in too deep, and I had her bent over the kitchen sink while I kissed up her spine and thought about how fucking stupid this was. But it felt good.
Her skin was warm. Soft. And when I grabbed her hips and felt her push back into me like she needed it just as bad as I did, any logic I had left went straight out the window.
I wasn’t even wearing pants. Just a towel that hit the floor the second I saw her rinsing off a plate, standing there in my T-shirt and nothing else.
“You sure you wanna do this again?” I asked, voice rough, breath already heavy. She didn’t answer. Just arched her back and looked over her shoulder at me like she knew I was already gone.
And I was. Fucking irrational. Me thinking about giving a woman who was married to the man fucking my wife a baby was irrational. Nutting in her was irrational. I hadn’t even had sex without a condom until Janet, and that was after a year of talking and being tested.
Still, I lined myself up and pushed into pussy slow.
Her knuckles cracked, and she moaned—quiet, needy, breath catching every time I sank deeper.
She worked her hips, fucking me back. Her pussy sounded as wet as it felt.
I gritted my teeth. “You feel too good. Too damn good.” She didn’t say anything. Just took it.
The calls from my wife had doubled since last night. So had her husband’s. The clock was running down—five hours until she had to go home smile like nothing happened. And yet here I was, fucking her like I was trying to put a baby in her before checkout.
I gripped her hips tighter and leaned in, kissing her shoulder, her neck, her ear.
“You know this is fucking messy, right? That we’re starting something that neither one of us is gonna want to stop?
” She nodded. Then moaned real pretty. “Cum in, Sam.” My nut creeped up my shaft as soon as the words left her mouth.
I didn’t pull out. Couldn’t.
I came inside her with a grunt, hand sliding over her stomach, palm flat like I wanted to feel what I just gave her settle inside of her. She was shaking. Breathing heavy. My dick was still hard. I pushed deeper.
Ten minutes later, I was in the shower, trying to convince myself to let her go home.
When I came back out, she was on the edge of the bed, legs closed tight, shirt sticking to her back with sweat.
She looked up at me and smiled. I picked up her phone from the nightstand.
She glanced at me, curious. I knew her code—6969. The girl was a repressed freak.
I put my number in. “Text me. Tonight. Tomorrow. Monday morning. I don’t care.” I pulled on my jeans. “Text me when you’re free and we’ll meet here.” She bit her lip. I could see she was overthinking the situation. I shrugged. “They started it. We might as well finish it.”
She nodded slow, like her body was moving on a delay. I didn’t say anything else. There wasn’t anything left to say that wouldn’t make this harder.
After she showered and packed, I walked her outside when it was time for her to go.
She slid her hoodie over her head with trembling hands.
Neither of us made eye contact. The air between us was quiet, stretched thin.
Her Uber pulled into the driveway just as the sky started turning orange. The sun was setting, ironically.
She turned to me, her bag in one hand, the other clinging to the hem of her sweatshirt like she needed something to hold onto. “I’ll text you,” she said, barely above a whisper. I nodded. “Okay.”
We stood there a second too long. I followed her to the curb. Watched her slide into the backseat without looking back. No dramatic wave. No kiss. Just a quiet closing of the door that felt heavier than it should’ve.
The car pulled off slow. I stayed there, arms crossed, jaw tight, watching the taillights disappear down the street.
She was gone. For now. And I didn’t know what came next.