When a Wife Wants the Wrong Man Pt. 02

Previously in Chapter  1 

Tanvi and Shaurya's married life in Seattle appears calm, intimate, and fulfilling. But beneath the surface, Tanvi is unraveling--haunted by a restless ache she can't ignore. Her growing fascination with Reid, a quietly commanding coworker, stirs dangerous cravings that Shaurya's love and passion can't fully satisfy. Despite her guilt, Tanvi's fantasies deepen, her body betraying her loyalties--and by the end, one truth becomes clear: the hunger inside her isn't fading. It's only growing.

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Chapter 2

Seattle lay wrapped in shadows when I woke, the predawn darkness pressing down, heavy and suffocating. Shaurya slept peacefully beside me, unaware of the quiet torment gripping my body. I lay restless, skin burning, heart beating too fast, too hard. The empty ache between my thighs was vicious, relentless.

Fuck.

I turned slowly, eyes lingering over Shaurya's bare chest, his steady breathing tormenting me with its ease. Shaurya was good to me--loving, generous, patient. But at this moment, his kindness only heightened my guilt, twisting it into something sharper.

I needed something else--I needed more.

Maybe if I took control first, maybe if I forced my body to focus on Shaurya, I could finally drown out the dark, needy voice whispering Reid's name inside me.

Slowly, deliberately, I slid beneath the sheets, kissing softly along his ribs, letting my fingers trail downward to the waistband of his boxers. His cock rested soft and heavy, warm beneath my palm. Shaurya murmured sleepily, but didn't wake.

My lips brushed gently over the fabric covering his cock. Slowly, teasingly, I sucked and tongued the thin cotton, feeling him twitch faintly in response. Encouraged, I peeled away the fabric, freeing his cock into the cool morning air. I stroked him slowly, gently, coaxing blood into the thickening shaft, feeling him pulse and stiffen beneath my touch.

He murmured again, hips lifting sleepily into my grasp. "Mmm... Tanvi?"

I took his cock into my mouth without reply, tongue swirling hungrily around the sensitive head, tasting the salt of his skin. I sucked gently, teasing him deeper, feeling his cock swell, thickening fully inside my mouth. Shaurya groaned deep and low, fingers tightening lazily into my hair.

My pussy flooded instantly with fresh wetness, jealousy twisting painfully inside me. How could it be so simple for him--this easy pleasure, uncomplicated and pure? Why couldn't I feel the same?

I couldn't wait any longer. I climbed over him urgently, straddling his hips, his cock slick with my saliva as I rubbed it roughly along my dripping pussy, grinding shamelessly, coating him in my wetness. He woke fully now, eyes dark, hips arching upward hungrily.

"Fuck, Tanvi," he rasped, voice thick with sleep and need, hands gripping my hips hard, fingers bruising into my flesh. "You're already soaked."

I sank down on him roughly, his cock stretching me, filling me perfectly in one deep, sharp thrust. My breath punched out of my chest in a rough gasp as pleasure ripped through me--intense, desperate, yet somehow not enough.

Shaurya groaned beneath me, hips thrusting upward, fucking deeper into my pussy. I rode him harder, boobs bouncing wildly beneath his oversized tee, nipples painfully hard as they grazed the cotton. He pushed the shirt up urgently, cupping my tits roughly, thumbs rubbing harsh circles over my nipples.

"Harder," I begged shamelessly, grinding my pussy faster onto his cock, chasing something deeper, darker, something still just beyond my reach. My clit throbbed violently, raw pleasure building fast, overwhelming my senses.

I came quickly, hot and fierce, pussy spasming around Shaurya's cock, nails digging deep into his chest. Yet even as orgasm crashed through me, even as my thighs trembled and my clit pulsed fiercely, emptiness still clawed inside me.

Shaurya finished moments later, cock jerking deep inside me, filling my pussy with warmth. He hugged me close, kissing my shoulder softly as he whispered, "Love you, babe," and quickly drifted back to sleep, utterly content.

I lay there, breath ragged, thighs slick with cum--his cum, my cum--and hated myself for feeling so desperately empty.

I came. My body came. So why does my soul feel hungrier than before?

Steam clouded the bathroom mirror as I stared blankly, still flushed, nipples hard, thighs slick from sex. My body betrayed me, aching and needy despite Shaurya's attention. Fingers drifted down between my legs, brushing briefly against my swollen clit. I gasped at the jolt of pleasure and immediately yanked my hand away.

Not again. Not yet.

I chose my outfit carefully--dangerously--fully aware it wasn't just professional. A sheer white blouse, black lace bra blatantly visible beneath, a pencil skirt tight enough to show every curve. My nipples hardened instantly against the lace, betraying my intentions clearly.

Confidence, I lied to myself. Professionalism.

Shaurya looked up as I stepped out of the bedroom, his eyes flickering slowly over me from head to toe.

"Dressed to kill?" he asked lightly, eyebrows raised with faint amusement and curiosity. There was no anger, no accusation--just mild surprise.

"Important client meeting," I lied softly, heat rising subtly in my cheeks.

He studied me a moment longer, then smiled, turning back to his coffee. "Well, you look incredible."

Guilt stabbed deeper at his unquestioning trust, even as my pussy dampened further with the dark thrill of secrecy. My panties were soaked by the time I stepped outside.

I drove to work in a fog, my thighs squeezing tightly together at each traffic stop. Every red light intensified the heat between my legs, the soaked lace clinging wetly to my pussy. My heart raced erratically, confusion battling with desire, shame tangling dangerously with anticipation.

I'm dressed like this for Reid. I'm aching like this for him.

Fuck. The thought was loud, brutal. Undeniable.

I shifted uncomfortably, gripping the wheel harder, fighting a losing battle against the lust that churned rebelliously inside me.

If I walk into that office dripping wet, it's my fault. Not his.

But my body already knew exactly what it wanted. My clit pulsed sharply beneath the lace, aching, hungry, impatient.

When I finally stepped into the office lobby, Reid's gaze found me instantly--too fast, like he'd been waiting. Watching.

His eyes pinned me where I stood, the air thickening around me. Slow, deliberate, shameless, he dragged his gaze over every inch of my body: the sheer silk stretched across my chest, the outline of lace beneath, the skirt that hugged my hips too tightly to pass as modest.

My breath caught painfully.

He didn't smile. Didn't flinch. Just watched me--dark, unapologetic hunger radiating from every inch of him.

My nipples tightened instantly beneath the lace, pushing against the silk like a secret begging to be discovered. A low throb pulsed between my legs, the lace of my panties already damp from the heat spreading there.

He knew exactly why I dressed like this.

And worse--he knew I wanted him to see it.

A few hours later, I was at the coffee machine in the break nook. The office was quieter now. Most people were in meetings or zoning out before lunch. My fingers tapped the button mindlessly, too aware of the wetness between my thighs, the heat radiating through my skin.

"Two coffees?" a voice asked behind me--low, calm, familiar.

I turned.

Reid stood too close--close enough that I could smell his cologne: cedarwood, smoke, and something that burned low in my belly. His sleeves were rolled just past the elbow again, revealing the sharp cut of his forearms, veins faint beneath taut skin.

"Mine's black," he added.

I handed him the second cup without a word. Our fingers touched--briefly, deliberately.

He didn't move away. "Morning's been chaos."

I nodded, struggling to think of anything ordinary to say. My eyes dropped to his mouth without meaning to--just a second too long. When I looked back up, his gaze was already on mine, steady and unreadable.

"You've been quiet today," he said.

I shrugged, feigning casual. "Focused."

"Right," he said softly. "Though that blouse makes focus a little difficult."

The breath left my lungs.

I should've laughed it off. Should've made a joke, walked away, done anything else. But my lips parted uselessly and my body buzzed in response. My nipples hardened again, painfully aware of the silk clinging to them, the dampness pooling slowly between my legs.

I didn't reply. He didn't press.

Instead, he leaned in a little closer, voice lower. "We need to go over yesterday's debrief. The fintech case study."

I blinked, trying to pull myself back. "Right. Yeah."

"You free after work?" His tone was steady--measured. But his eyes dropped, again, just slightly--first to my mouth, then to my chest.

I knew exactly what this was. A test. A line.

"Sure," I murmured. "Where?"

"There's a bar just off Fourth. Quiet. I'll text you."

He took his coffee and walked off without waiting for a reply. I stood there for another full minute, heart racing, legs weak, the cup still burning in my hand.

The clock blinked quietly from the corner of my laptop: 7:15 p. m. The office was empty now, shadows creeping from darkened conference rooms, silence pressing thickly around me. I stared blankly at my screen, my cursor blinking over and over on the same line of code, meaningless. My mind spun helplessly--Reid's touch earlier, the slow brush of his fingertips on my thigh, the heat of his gaze heavy against my skin.

Fuck.

My phone vibrated suddenly on the desk, Shaurya's smiling face lighting the screen. My stomach clenched guiltily as his message appeared:

On the way home. Pizza or pasta?

I stared at the screen for a long, painful moment. The reply I typed felt heavier with every tap:

Staying late. Team review went over.

It wasn't a big lie. It wasn't the first lie. But the weight settled deep in my chest, suffocating.

My reflection in the bathroom mirror moments later was unsettling--flushed cheeks, eyes dark with guilt, lips freshly painted deep red. The sheer blouse clung provocatively to the curves of my breasts, nipples pushing hard against lace, betraying my intentions.

"Just a drink," I whispered, voice shaking slightly. "Professional."

The woman in the mirror looked back at me--dangerous, vulnerable, hungry. She knew better.

The bar was tucked away on a quiet side street, soft music and dim lighting creating pockets of intimacy. Reid waited in a shadowed corner booth, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, whiskey glass cradled casually in one strong hand. My heart stuttered sharply as our eyes met.

He didn't smile, didn't move--just watched as I crossed the room, hips swaying subtly, skirt tight around my thighs. His gaze traced slowly up my body, deliberately lingering, possessive.

I slid into the booth opposite him, heart racing, legs trembling faintly. "Sorry, I'm late."

"You're not," he murmured, eyes steady on mine. "I was early."

Silence hung thickly between us, charged and heavy. Reid reached slowly, drawing my laptop across the table toward him. Our fingers brushed briefly--deliberate, electric. I didn't move away.

"You design like you're afraid of being too much," he began quietly, eyes intent on my screen.

"That's funny, coming from someone who says nothing at all," I countered, voice low but steady.

He looked up, expression unreadable, lips curving faintly. The silence stretched longer, richer.

"You think I don't speak clearly enough?" he asked softly, leaning fractionally closer. His cologne--cedarwood, smoke--swirled intimately between us.

"Maybe," I breathed, pulse fluttering helplessly in my throat.

He smiled slowly, eyes tracing my lips. "Then maybe you're just not listening hard enough."

I swallowed sharply, my mouth dry. I reached for my drink, finishing it too quickly, the alcohol burning sharply, offering no relief. He watched silently, gaze heavy and unyielding.

It was raining gently when we stepped outside, droplets catching softly in the yellow glow of streetlights. I shivered slightly, insisting quietly, "I can walk myself. It's not far."

Reid said nothing, but followed silently behind me, umbrella tilted protectively, footsteps matching mine. The underground parking lot was quiet, echoing faintly with our footsteps, the click of my heels sharp and brittle.

At my car, my fingers trembled visibly, fumbling uselessly with my keys. Reid stood close behind, silent, patient. Waiting. My breath quickened, nerves twisting urgently inside me.

"You shouldn't have followed me," I whispered finally, voice barely audible.

"Then tell me to leave," he murmured, voice soft, deadly. He stepped closer, body heat searing through the thin fabric of my blouse. His breath brushed lightly against my ear. "Say it."

I turned slowly, breath caught painfully in my chest, my eyes locking helplessly onto his. His gaze burned into mine--dark, intent, waiting.

I said nothing.

His hand came up slowly, fingers gently brushing my jaw, tilting my face upward. My pulse raced frantically beneath his touch. Reid leaned forward slowly, deliberately, lips brushing lightly over mine--a barely-there caress, devastating in its restraint.

A shudder rippled through my body, pussy clenching helplessly. My lips parted involuntarily, desperate, needy. Reid's mouth pressed harder now, deeper, tongue sliding inside my mouth, exploring possessively.

My resistance shattered instantly, my fingers tangling roughly into his jacket, pulling him closer. He pressed me back against the concrete wall, thigh slipping firmly between mine, holding me in place.

His lips brushed slowly downward from my mouth, trailing heat along my jawline, down my throat. His breath felt hot, possessive against my skin, each kiss branding me deeper into something I couldn't escape. I shuddered as his hand tightened on my waist, pulling me flush against him, pinning me gently but firmly to the cold concrete pillar.

I should've stopped him. I should've pushed him away.

But my body was already betraying me--hips instinctively pressing forward, grinding shamelessly against the firm muscle of his thigh. My pussy throbbed urgently beneath the soaked lace, silently begging for friction, for relief. A low, trembling breath escaped my lips, betraying more than I could ever admit aloud.

Reid's hand moved slowly upward, fingertips grazing beneath my silk blouse, sliding deliberately over the sheer lace bra beneath. My breath caught sharply, heartbeat hammering painfully as his fingers brushed against my already aching nipple. He paused there, hand splayed wide over my breast, gently cupping the soft weight of it through the fabric. My nipple hardened instantly against his palm, betraying my desperate need.

His thumb swept across the lace slowly, teasing, then hooked gently beneath the delicate edge, pulling it upward just enough to free my breast completely. He paused--not because I asked him to, but as if waiting for me to flinch. I didn't. I couldn't. The silk blouse still hung loosely, framing my partial nudity like a whispered confession--my nipple fully exposed now to the cool night air, flushed and achingly sensitive.

My cheeks burned hot with shame, humiliation sharpening the arousal twisting deep in my belly. He stared at me for a long, quiet moment, eyes dark and hungry, drinking in every detail of my exposed body. I trembled beneath that gaze, feeling utterly seen, utterly vulnerable--and utterly, helplessly turned on.

Then his thumb moved again, brushing slowly across my exposed nipple, circling, teasing until pleasure spiked sharply through my chest. My back arched instinctively, pressing harder into his touch, silently begging for more. He responded with gentle precision, rolling and tugging my nipple softly between thumb and forefinger, each small movement pulling a quiet, helpless gasp from my lips.

My hips rocked involuntarily, grinding harder against his thigh, the lace of my panties dragging tightly against my swollen clit. I was soaked--shamefully wet, slickening the inside of my thighs, leaving no question of my desire unanswered. Reid's hand slid slowly down my waist again, fingertips tracing the curve of my hip before slipping beneath the tight fabric of my skirt.

His fingers hesitated briefly at the edge of my panties--damp, clinging uselessly to my skin. His gaze caught mine again, holding it, questioning silently, waiting for any sign of resistance. But I couldn't speak, couldn't stop--I just breathed faster, lips parted, hips shifting restlessly forward in silent, desperate invitation.

Understanding darkened his gaze. Without another moment's hesitation, his fingers slipped beneath the lace, finally touching bare skin. I gasped sharply at the first brush of his fingertips along my soaked slit--gentle at first, just teasing my sensitive folds, spreading my wetness slowly, deliberately.

Then, with perfect precision, he pressed against my clit, firm and relentless, rubbing slow, steady circles that nearly made my knees buckle. Pleasure exploded through me, unbearably intense, nearly painful in its immediacy. My forehead dropped to his shoulder, lips pressed tightly together to stifle my desperate sounds, hips grinding helplessly into his hand.

He moved expertly, every touch perfectly measured, drawing me rapidly toward an edge I wasn't ready to admit I needed so badly. My thighs shook violently, every nerve‑ending screaming for more friction, deeper touch, more intimate invasion.

He understood without words--understood exactly what my body needed. With silent confidence, he slipped two fingers deep inside my pussy, stretching me abruptly, perfectly. My body jerked sharply against him, pussy tightening hungrily around his fingers, desperate to feel more, deeper, harder.

He fucked me slowly, rhythmically, fingers curling slightly with each stroke, thumb continuing its merciless assault on my clit. Each thrust of his hand sent fresh waves of pleasure surging violently through me, rapidly overwhelming my senses. My hips bucked helplessly, thighs slick with my own arousal, panties soaked beyond redemption.

My orgasm built swiftly--sharp, brutal, undeniable. My body tensed sharply, pussy clenching tighter and tighter around his fingers, thighs trembling uncontrollably. I buried my face in the curve of his neck, breath ragged, fingers gripping his jacket desperately.

Pleasure crashed fiercely through me, erupting outward from deep inside, leaving me shaking, helpless, cumming violently on his hand. My pussy pulsed fiercely, thighs slick with the shameful evidence of my release, each wave of orgasm pulling deeper gasps from my throat.

He slowed gently, carefully, finally pulling away as the last tremors subsided. I sagged against him, weak, breathless, utterly spent, blouse hanging open, breast still exposed and aching. My cheeks burned with humiliation--but beneath the shame, beneath the confusion, lay only raw, overwhelming relief.

And then my phone vibrated sharply, jolting me violently back into reality. My heart lurched painfully, eyes flying open, instantly panicked.

Shaurya's name flashed brightly across the screen.

My husband.

Shame flooded violently through me, panic replacing pleasure instantly. With trembling fingers, I yanked my blouse hastily closed, tugging my skirt roughly back into place, cheeks flaming fiercely. My breath came short and fast, nausea twisting sharp and painful in my gut.

Reid stood silently, eyes unreadable, breathing heavy, waiting quietly for any sign from me.

"I--I have to go," I whispered hoarsely, voice barely audible, refusing to meet his gaze.

He stepped away silently, giving me space without protest. My heart hammered violently in my chest as I quickly turned away, stumbling hastily to my car, each click of my heels echoing sharply in the silent garage.

Inside the car, I sat motionless, panting heavily, thighs slick, panties completely ruined, heart racing painfully. I stared blankly at Shaurya's missed calls, unread texts flashing urgently, a harsh reminder of the betrayal I'd just committed.

My pussy still ached deliciously, throbbing tenderly, shamelessly satisfied. I squeezed my thighs tightly together, suddenly hating myself even as relief flooded silently through my veins.

I hadn't just crossed a line tonight--I'd chosen it willingly, silently, irrevocably.

And the worst part was, beneath all the shame, beneath the self‑disgust, all I felt was that guilty, undeniable relief.

Because, as much as I hated to admit it--this wasn't weakness.

It was a choice.

And I'd made it completely.