Forbidden Desires Pt. 03

Forbidden Desires Pt. 3

One evening, as Kimberly is preparing dinner, Wiz saunters into the kitchen, his prison-issued ankle monitor beeping a silent remember of him being on parole. He opens the fridge, his eyes surveying its contents. "What's on the menu tonight, Kimberly?" he asks, mockingly.

One evening, as Kimberly is preparing dinner, Wiz saunters into the kitchen, his prison-issued ankle monitor beeping a silent reminder of his confinement. He opens the fridge, his eyes scanning the contents. "What's on the menu tonight, Kim?" he asks, his tone mocking. She glances at him from the stove, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder, narrowing her eyes. "It's Mrs. Thomas," she corrects him, as she continues stirring the pot with a bit more force than necessary. "And I'm making chili. There's enough for two."

As Kimberly minds the pot of chili, Wiz's gaze lingers on her backside, his eyes tracing the curves of her waist down to her jeans lightly gripping her ass. At 44, she's still got it, he thinks, especially for a white woman. Her thighs are thick and her posture is stiff, but the way she moves, the way she commands the kitchen like a mother is all so alluring. He leans against the counter, watching her breasts sway with a hunger that goes beyond the food she's cooking. "Mmmm, sounds good Mrs. Thomas. It's nice having a woman like yourself cook for me." he says, his voice deep and gruff.

Kimberly feels his gaze on her, the heat of it almost something she can feel. She clenches the wooden spoon in her hand, attempting to remain preoccupied by the pot of chili, willing herself to not turn around. Wiz found it amusing Kimberly could barely see into the pot without standing on her tippy toes. "It's a bit spicy.. not sure if you're into that..: she says, her voice clipped. She doesn't want to acknowledge the way her stomach flutters when he says her name like that. She stirs the pot vigorously, the scent of the spices filling the kitchen.

"Oh, I can handle a little heat." He says, his smile widening as he approaches her from behind. He leans over her shoulder, his waist lightly brushing up against the small of her back, fetching a cup out of the cabinet, watching as she stirs the pot. "But I've always had a taste for the spicy things in life." His words hang over her, a clear innuendo that makes Kimberly's skin crawl--and yet, she feels a strange thrill from him being so close.

As Wiz backs off of her she swallows hard, trying not to let his proximity affect her. "Well, dinner's almost ready," she says, her voice a tad too high. She turns to face him, the kitchen suddenly feeling much smaller. "Why don't you set the table?" She suggests, handing him a couple bowls and cutlery to create even more space in between them.

Wiz takes the plates, his eyes never leaving hers. He sets them down with a clatter and leans closer. "Why don't you sit down, let me do it?" His voice is a low murmur, his gaze intense as he motions for the pot of chili. "You've had a long day, haven't you?"

Kimberly's pulse races, but she doesn't move. "I can manage," she says firmly, her voice steady. But she can't get past the affect he is having on her, the way his scent invades her senses, that familiar musk he seems to keep. She takes a step back, putting the counter between them. "Thank you, but I've got it." She turns away, focusing on the chili, her hand shaking slightly as she stirs.

Wiz watches her for a moment longer, his gaze lingering on the curve of her neck before he sorts out the bowls and silverware setting the table. The tension in the room is palpable, a living, breathing entity that seems to throb with every beat of their hearts. The clank of silverware fills the space, the only sound in the otherwise silent house.

As she serves the chili, Kimberly's thoughts swirl like the spoon through the pot. She's aware of Wiz's eyes on her breasts as she carefully fills his bowl with chili, spoonful after spoonful

"Thank you, Mrs. Thomas," he says, the mockery in his voice clear. He digs in, the spoon scraping against the bowl as he takes a mouthful. He closes his eyes, savoring the taste. "Mm, this is good." He opens his eyes, meeting her gaze. "Real good." His words feel like a caress, a promise of him hinting at something more than just the food on the table.

Her cheeks flush, but she remains stoic sitting down opposite him. She takes a bite, the heat of the chili making her eyes water slightly. She keeps her eyes on her food, avoiding his gaze. The silence stretches between them, thick with unspoken words and unacknowledged desires.

He watches her eat, his own hunger momentarily forgotten. "So, tell me about yourself, Mrs. Thomas," he says, his tone conversational. "What do you do when you're not playing jailer?"

Lost in the moment, Kimberly forgets who she's talking to and before she knew it she began to unravel. "I used to be a teacher," she says, mindlessly speaking. "But after... everything, I decided to transition into real estate." She looks away, focusing on her chili again.

His eyebrows furrow at her words hanging in the air. "After everything?" he repeats, his voice gentle and full of question. He can sense the pain in her words and is curious about what she's referring to.

She takes a sip of her water, the coolness a great contrast from the heat in her cheeks. "After my husband left, and Rachel... moved out," she says, her voice wavering slightly. "It was time for a change." She looks up at him, her eyes full of vulnerability. "I needed something that didn't remind me of what I lost."

Wiz's heart skips a beat, his eyes widening slightly at the glimpse of innocence in her eyes and the mention of her husband's departure. He's been curious about the story behind her marriage, the ring on her finger a silent testament to a relationship he often finds himself wondering about. He's careful to keep his expression neutral, not wanting to reveal his excitement at the thought of her relationship crumbling. He nods, his eyes softening. "It's never easy when things like that change," he says, his voice genuinely empathetic to Kimberly's ears.

She nods, their eye contact deepening with one another briefly. "No, it's not," she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I've learned to adapt." She takes another bite of her chili, the spiciness a distraction from the ache forming in her chest. "Real estate keeps me busy, and it's a good way to stay connected to people without... getting too involved."

Wiz's gaze lingers on Kimberly's ring finger, the presence of her wedding ring speaking volumes. The emotion in her eyes, a blend of pain and resilience, fuels his desire to know more, to understand her vulnerabilities. He takes a bite of the chili, the heat mirroring the intensity of the moment.

"It's good to stay busy," he agrees, his eyes never leaving hers. "But you've got to let yourself feel sometimes too, you know? Can't outrun your emotions forever." His words are a soft probe, a gentle push at the wall she's built around herself. "I imagine it was quite the break up." he finishes wiping his mouth with his white beater.

She swallows hard, the pain of her failed marriage hitting her like a truck. "It was.. and still is," she admits, her voice tight. "But.. it's in the past." She tries to keep the conversation light as she fiddles with her necklace.

The soft light of the stove's lamp casts a warm glow across the kitchen, painting their faces in a dance of shadows and light. Wiz leans back in his chair, his gaze lingering on Kimberly's delicate fingers as they fiddle with the necklace at her throat. The silence is charged, each bite of chili a deliberate act to break the tension, but he can't help but be intrigued by the walls she's constructed around herself. She's so guarded, so in control, and yet the hint of vulnerability in her eyes when she speaks of her past is like a beacon, drawing him in. The table began to turn as Kimberly began to look more and more like prey. He watches her carefully, studying her facial expressions, the way her hand trembles as she blots the corner of her mouth with a napkin. The way her collarbone peeks out from the neckline of her blouse, he was now beginning to see the cracks in her armor. The places where she's not quite so invincible were showing. He wonders if he can break her entirely by the end of the night. He leans in slightly, his eyes never leaving hers. "Sometimes, the past has a way of catching up with you," he says his voice earnestly chiseling her walls away little by little.

The room feels hotter than it did before they sat down, the heat of the chili unable to hold a candle to the intensity in Wiz's gaze. Kimberly could feel her heart thumping in her chest, and she swallows hard. She knows he's talking about more than just her husband that had left her, more than the simple facts of her life. He's probing at her deep-seated fears, the desires she had worked so hard to bury. She takes a deep breath, willing herself to maintain some composure. "I've made peace with the past," she says, her voice firm. "I've moved on."

Wiz raises an eyebrow, his eyes glancing to her left hand, where her wedding band glitters faintly in the kitchen light. "Then why do you still wear your wedding ring?" he asks, his tone gentle yet challenging. He watches her, patiently waiting for her reaction, his expression unreadable.

She looks down at her hand, surprised at her hypocrisy. "It's a... reminder," she says, her voice cracking. "Of what I had, what I lost." She tries to steady her tone, but the tremor in her voice gives her away.

He nods, watching her bottom lip slightly tremble. "It's actually the other way around, your husband was a lucky man." he says, his voice a smooth caress. "You're a beautiful, strong woman, Kim. Any man would be lucky waking up next to you in the morning." The way he says her name sends her signals of his dominance and for once she feels comfortable with him addressing her as such. He takes another bite of chili, the silence stretching between them like a tightrope as he continues gazing upon her. He can feel the sexual tension in the air, the unspoken words that hang heavy at the table. The TV in the living room flickers, casting strange shadows across their faces as they eat in silence, the unspoken tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

Shivers run down Kimberly's spine as she finally breaks eye contact with Wiz, her mind racing with thoughts. "Why is he saying this? Is he just playing games? I can't believe I've opened up to him like this." She tries to disregard the way her heart is racing, the way her skin feels hot and her knees a little weak. She takes a deep breath realizing where the conversation had led her. "Thank you," she says, her voice a little shakier than she'd prefer. "I'd better wash these dishes." She stands up, collecting their empty bowls and carries them to the sink. The water runs, the sound a comforting white noise as she lathers the dishes clean. She can feel his eyes on her, but she refuses to turn around. "This isn't happening," she tells herself firmly. "This isn't appropriate." She continued steering her thoughts, but deep down she doesn't believe herself. She wants to feel desired, to feel wanted again, and the way Wiz looks at her is filling a void within her. She shakes her head, pushing her thoughts away. "I'm going to bed," she says, her voice a little too loud in the quiet kitchen. "Make sure you clean up the rest of this mess"

Wiz notices just how flustered he has Kimberly and he watches her go. His eyes obediently following the sway of her hips as she walks away. He can't help but feel a rush of power he had just gained over her. He knows he's pushing her buttons, but he can't resist the thrill of the chase.