Forbidden Desires Pt. 04

After dinner, Kimberly returns to her bedroom, her thoughts a tireless storm. She's aware of just how much Wiz's eyes had been on her and she's beginning to think Wiz wants to fuck her. The warmth of the chilly had done little to eliminate the chill that crawled all throughout her skin. She needs to relax, to wash the day away. She fills her bathtub with steaming hot water, the sound of it vibrating throughout the quiet house. The bathroom is her sanctuary, the one place she can truly be naked without fear of judgment or unwelcome gazes. She strips out of her clothes, letting them fall to the floor in a heap. The warm water swallowing her as she sinks in, a sigh of relief escaping her lips as she closes her eyes shut, allowing the tension to seep out her. The scent of lavender lulls her into relaxation, a soothing balm to her frazzled nerves.

As she lies there, the silence is a stark contrast to the war going on in her mind. Rachel's voice in her head, Wiz's words from dinner, the memory of her husband's touch, it's all a jumble of pain and longing. She tightens her eyes shut, trying to focus on the calming podcast playing through her headphones. But it puts up no fight to the siren call of the man under her own roof.

Meanwhile, Wiz can't help but listen to the sound of the running water, the image of Kimberly in the tub invading his thoughts. A smile plays on his lips as she is doing exactly what he suggested days ago. His curiosity about her deepens, and he wonders what secrets she's hiding beneath that tough exterior. He tells himself it's just a fantasy, but the way he has positioned her like prey is something he couldn't help but bask in.

The next day, as the sound of Kimberly's car fades into the distance as she heads for work, Wiz takes a deep breath, the house feeling eerily quiet. The walls seem to close in on him, the weight of his confinement weighing on him. He decides to explore, to find a small piece of freedom amidst the suffocation. He wanders into Kimberly's bedroom, the space seeming calling his name. He opens drawers, his eyes scanning her clothes, her perfumes, looking for a piece of her soul.

In the depths of Kimberly's dresser, Wiz discovers a treasure trove of intimate garments, a kaleidoscope of fabrics and colors that hint at a woman with a intimate side she rarely shows. His eyes land on a small, wooden box, tucked away beneath a pile of neatly folded lace panties. His heart quickens as he opens it, revealing a time capsule of happier days. He slowly thumbed through the photos of Kimberly and her husband, their faces exuding youth and love. He sneers, feeling a strange sense of victory as he looks at her husband who is no longer around.

Wiz's eyes linger on Kimberly's wedding picture, a smirk coming over him. He can't help but mumble, "You're not as heartless as you like to pretend, are you?" His voice is barely a whisper, but it feels as if he's speaking directly to her. He sets the box down, his gaze lingering on the images of her past life before he continues going through the remaining contents of the drawer, his hands lingering over the soft fabrics. He selects a pair of panties, slipping them into his pocket with a sense of lust, a tangible piece of her that he can bring back to his room.

As the day wears on, Wiz becomes increasingly restless. He tries to ignore Kimberly's bedroom calling him back, but it's like a magnet pulling him. He finds himself pacing the hallway, his eyes drawn to the closed door. His thoughts are a maelstrom of desire and lust, his mind racing with ideas of how to break down Kimberly's walls.

Later, as the house sighs with the quiet of early evening, Wiz explores Kimberly's bathroom. The space feels almost sacred, filled with the scent of her soap and shampoo, for a second he could even imagine the scent of her pussy. He finds himself drawn to the vanity, where her things are neatly arranged. His hand hovers over a pair of her dirty lacy underwear, a soft pink pair she had likely been wearing before she took a bath the previous night. He can't resist the urge to hold them, to feel the soft fabric against his skin. He brings them to his face, inhaling deeply.

With a mix of excitement and anxiety, Wiz locks the bathroom door behind him. He's found a piece of Kimberly she's left behind, and the smell of it is intoxicating. He sits on the edge of the tub, her panties in hand. His thoughts swirl with images of her, of what she might have been feeling when she wore them. He can't help himself as he brings the fabric to his nose, inhaling her scent once again. It sends electricity through him, and before he knows it, his hand is moving down to his crotch, his arousal growing.

The sound of the key turning in the lock of the front door jolts him back to reality. Kimberly's home early! He hastily shoves the panties into his pocket and jumps to his feet. His heart races as he makes his way to his room just down the hall.

She steps into the house, the cool evening air releasing from around her skin. As she wades through the kitchen and living room she notices the door to her bedroom is open. She's sure she left it closed and can't shake the feeling that something's off.

Kimberly sets her keys on the coffee table, her eyes scanning the living room. Everything seems in place, but the quiet feels... heavier somehow. She takes a deep breath, willing herself to let it go. It's just the stress of having Wiz under her roof, she tells herself. But the nagging feeling persists as she remembers she had not left the door to her room open.

She calls out, "Wiz, I'm home!" There's no response, just the faint sound of the TV from his room. She sighs, trying to shake off the unease building up within her. She heads to the fridge, grabs a bottle of water, and pads down the hallway. As she passes the open door of her bedroom, she glances in, catching sight of the slightly open drawer. Her stomach drops.

She walks in, her eyes analyzing the room. Everything else seems undisturbed, but the feeling of invasion is unshakeable. She approaches the dresser, her hand shaking as she opens the drawer further. The wooden box sits slightly askew, a glaring testament to the fact that someone's been going through her drawer. She slams it shut, the sound echoing through the house.

"How dare he?" she thinks, anger pulsing in her veins. She darts across her room and into the hallway, her fists clenched. "Wiz! Get out here now!"

Startled, Wiz quickly hides the panties under his pillow and scurries out of his room, his expression a mask of innocence. "Hey, Mrs. Thomas," he says casually, leaning against the doorframe. "What's up?"

She glares at him, her voice dripping with anger. "My bedroom drawer was open. Did you go through my things?" Her eyes bore into his, searching for an admission of guilt.

He raises an eyebrow, exuding confusion. "Your drawer? No, I've been in my room all day. Why would I go through your stuff?" His tone is smooth, but that same little smirk playing on his lips gives him away.

"Don't lie to me," she snaps, stepping closer to him. "I can smell your scent in my room." Her cheeks flush with rage, and she can feel the heat of her own breath against her face. "What have you taken?"

Wiz crosses his arms, his smirk growing wider as he watches the series of emotions play across Kimberly's face. He can't decide if her vulnerability or her fiery anger is more tantalizing. She stands before him, her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail that accentuates the sharpness of her features and the fierce determination in her eyes. He finds himself attracted to the power she exudes, even in her fury.

"Now, now, Mrs. Thomas," he says, his voice singing songs of dominance. "You're jumping to conclusions." He takes a step closer to her, his eyes dancing with amusement. "I've been keeping to myself, just like you asked." His voice purring with masculinity. "But if you think about me that much, maybe we should talk about it."

She steps back, her eyes narrowing. "You're on house arrest, Wiz. This isn't a game." She crosses her arms, her body rigid with tension. "I expect you to respect my space, or you can leave."

He doesn't miss a beat, his smile never faltering as he takes another step closer, reducing the space between them to mere inches like before. "Oh, I know it's not a game, Kim," he murmurs, his voice a seductive whisper. "But sometimes, a little pressure is exactly what you need." His eyes are dark with a challenge she can't quite place, his body heat radiating against hers.

Kimberly's pulse skyrockets, the closeness of Wiz's body making it difficult for her to breathe comfortably. She wants to push him away, to scream at him to leave her alone, but something about the way he says her name, the way his eyes seem to see right through her, keeps her rooted to the spot.

The house feels smaller than ever, the air thick with the unspoken sexual tension. Wiz's chest rises and falls with every breath slowly, and she can feel his eyes on her breasts like a brand, burning through the fabric of her clothes.

She grits her teeth, pushing herself not to back down. "You need to stay out of my personal space," she says, her voice trembling slightly. "You're here as a guest, not as someone who can just help himself to whatever he wants."

Wiz's smile turns wolfish as he eyes his little damsel in distress, his gaze climbing from her plump 36C breasts to her glossy lips. He can't help but appreciate the way her chest rises and falls with every resentful breath she takes. He takes another step closer, his eyes lingering on the way her cardigan clings to her torso, hinting at the curves beneath. "I've noticed," he says, his voice dropping an octave. "You're quite the sight to have coming home to me."

The warmth of his breath sends a tingle into the depth of her pussy. She tries to ignore the flutter in her stomach, the way his closeness is affecting her. "This isn't appropriate," she whispers, her voice strained.

The house seems to hold its breath, the tension seemingly about to boil over. Wiz's pupils darken, his gaze never leaving hers. He takes another step closer, posturing over her, his hand brushing against her arm as if by accident. The fabric of her cardigan feels like sandpaper against her skin, the heat of his touch searing through it.

"You're right," he says, his voice low and intimate. "We both could use a little... release. Don't you think?" He reaches out, gently brushing a stray strand of hair from her cheek. "Why don't you go take a shower, cool off?" His thumb lingers grazing her cheek, as she brushes him off. His eyes are filled with a promise, one that makes her stomach tighten with anticipation and fear. Right there in that moment, Kimberly could feel Wiz's power, she could feel his strength as he towered over her. She could feel the heat of his touch permeating through her skin, a sensation she hasn't felt in years. She's torn between the anger at his audacity and the thrill of his proximity. She takes a deep, shaky breath and nods, turning away from him. She walks into her bedroom, closing the door behind her, her mind racing.

She locks the door, her hand trembling against the cold metal knob. Her thoughts are a jumbled mess of fear and excitement. She quickly changes into her bathrobe, her heart racing. The thought of a shower sounds heavenly, a chance to wash away the day's frustration.

The water in the shower is hot, almost scalding, but it does little to ease the heat pooling in her stomach. She tries to focus on the soothing sound of the water hitting the tiles, the way the steam fills the room, but her mind keeps wandering back to Wiz. As the water cascades over her body, Kimberly's thoughts swirl around the encounter with Wiz. The way he'd touched her, the relentless look in his eyes, it's all too much. She lathers the soap over her skin, the scent of lavender mixing with the faint scent of his musk that seems to cling to everything.

The realization of his intrusion makes her toes curl, and she hastily rinses off, wrapping herself in a towel. She can't escape the feeling that she's being watched, that he's waiting for her, biding his time. Her heart races as she dries off, the fabric of her robe wrapping around her like a hug.

She takes a deep breath, realizing just how submissive he is beginning to make her feel. "I can't let him do this to me.." She thought striding out of the bathroom, her eyes scanning the room for any signs of his presence. The house is eerily quiet, as if it's holding its breath. She makes her way to the kitchen, her bare feet against the cold tiles.

The fridge hums comfortingly as Kimberly opens it, the light spilling out into the dim kitchen. She grabs a bottle of beer, feeling the cool condensation dampen her palm. The cap twists off with a satisfying crack, the sound echoing through the kitchen like a gunshot. She takes a long pull, the bitter liquid sliding down her throat like a cool breeze on a summer day.

In the silence of her room, Kimberly sits on the edge of her bed, her legs crossed, the beer bottle dangling from her fingertips. Her thoughts are a vortex, swirling around the events of the day. Rachel's voice on the phone, reassuring her that Wiz has changed feels like a distant memory. She's off work tomorrow, and the weekend stretches before her like infinity. She begins to wonder how she will be able navigate the weekend with all of the underlying tension in the air.