The One I Shouldn't Want

My name's Greg. I'm 36, divorced, and have been in real estate long enough to know exactly who's faking it--and who's built for this grind. I've got a solid reputation, decent listings, and a growing client base across Northern Utah. I don't do drama. I don't mix business with pleasure. And I sure as hell don't get hung up on married women.

Until Kayla Smith.

I've known Kayla Smith for a few years now. We've crossed paths plenty--open houses, client referrals, regional meetups. She works for a different brokerage, but we've collaborated often enough to become something like friends. The kind that text casually, talk shop over coffee, maybe linger a little too long at networking events. I've always played it cool, kept things professional. But if I'm being honest? There's never been a woman who's made it harder.

Kayla is... magnetic. One of those people who lights up a room without trying. Top realtor in Northern Utah, two kids, a husband who used to serve in the Air Force--on paper, she's impressive as hell. In person, she's something else entirely. She's not just fit--she's strong. Years of yoga, running, cycling, working outdoors, it all shows. Her body is athletic and all woman--tight waist, full hips, a perfect ass that grabs your attention and doesn't let go. And her chest... God. Natural, high, and proud. I've seen her in low-cut dresses at galas and skintight workout gear on her Instagram stories. She wears both like she was born to.

There's a tattoo on her shoulder--delicate, floral, and completely distracting. Her skin is sun-kissed, the kind that makes you think of garden soil under fingernails and sweat glistening down her collarbone in the summer heat. Her hair changes every few months--sometimes curled and loose, other times sleek and straight--but it always frames her face just right. Dimples when she laughs. A nose ring that shouldn't be as sexy as it is. And eyes--warm, brown, endlessly expressive.

She's got this energy to her. A fire. She bakes like she's trying to seduce the flour, gardens in shorts that should be illegal, and talks about her chickens with the kind of joy that makes you want to build her a damn coop yourself. She's the type who finds a new hobby and throws herself into it with the kind of passion that makes your thoughts wander. She doesn't half-ass anything. And that includes how she carries herself. Whether she's showing a million-dollar home or bending into a yoga pose, she owns every inch of space around her.

And me? I pretend I'm not watching. Pretend I'm not imagining how she'd taste if I kissed her after a long run. How she'd sound if I had her pressed up against the granite countertop in her showroom kitchen. I smile, compliment her hustle, joke around like we're just colleagues with history. But when she leans in close to show me a comp on her phone, when her perfume hits me just right--I feel it. All of it.

She's married. She's a mom. She's my friend.

But fuck, Kayla Smith is the woman I can't stop picturing when I'm alone.

It was a Saturday in late May and I was out showing houses with a particularly difficult couple. Well... mainly the wife. The husband I think would have taken the first house he saw. He definitely seemed to me to be the type that just wanted to work and didn't care where he lived. Or where his family lived. But, his wife, nothing made her happy.

The first house, the kitchen was too small, despite her not being a cook. The second house, only had one living room. The third house, backyard was too much. And so on and so on. By the time we reached the sixth and final house of the day, I was ready to be done.

I did have a reason to look forward to the last house. It was an open house being hosted by one of my favorites, Kayla. I had texted her earlier in the day to tell her my clients were interested in the house she was showing and she said she would be there to walk them through it, if they wanted.

When we arrived, Kayla greeted them warmly and me cordially. I followed behind as she toured them through the rather large house. I thought everything was going smoothly, for once. I was already dreaming of the amount of phone calls and texts I would have with Kayla during the negotiations. And then, the wife saw the garage.

"Just where are we supposed to park the RV? We can't keep it outside during the winter in Utah."

You would have thought she would have noticed the lack of an RV garage in the listing. Or when they pulled up. Oh well. Try again next weekend.

I walked my clients outside, saying goodbye and that I would send them any more listings that popped up. Got a very nice thank you from the husband. The wife mentioned something about switching realtors. Yeah, lady, because I was holding out on all the good houses and just not wanting your money.

After watching them drive, I turned and walked back into the house, greeting Kayla a little bit more warmly this time.

"She seems like a delight," Kayla said with a laugh.

"Right? Regular ole life of the party," I told her.

"I thought for sure the kitchen would get her," she responded.

"Or the backyard. Good hang out space, not too much maintenance. Private," I said.

"Right? I mean, just look at this!" Kayla said, motioning to the sliding glass door that opened to the patio.

I made a move towards it, stepping through the door as Kayla pushed it open. As she joined me, leaning against the railing that looked out over the backyard, I looked over at her.

She looked incredible. Nothing flashy, nothing over the top--just Kayla being Kayla. That ribbed tank top hugged her chest in a way that made it impossible not to notice the shape of her breasts, lifted perfectly by whatever bra she had underneath. Modest, sure. But still enough to make my mouth dry. Her jeans were high-waisted and tight, clinging to her hips and ass like they'd been made just for her. Every step she took pulled my attention lower. Those soft suede boots she always wore gave her just a little extra height, not that she needed it--she already carried herself like someone who knew exactly who she was. Her hair was down, loose and a little wavy, catching the light just enough to make me wish I could reach out and run my fingers through it. She wasn't trying to be sexy. She never had to. Just seeing her like this--confident, put-together, completely in control--made me want her all over again. Or maybe I'd never really stopped.

"At least the one saving grace to today, is seeing how beautiful you are in person, and not having to just see it on Instagram," I told her, not quite sure how she would react.

"Thanks. I'm glad some one noticed," she said with a soft laugh. "Typical life of a realtor, isn't it? All this effort to make sure the house looks good, make sure you look professional, and not a single offer today. And now, I get to go home, husband and kids are both gone for the night, so at least I'll be able to take a long, relaxing bath, and not have to think about anything for a while. Maybe I'll clean out the chicken coop.

"If it were up to me, you'd be spending the night being reminded how gorgeous you are. Not scrubbing out a coop," I told her, taking another bold step.

"Gregory Dalton!" Kayla exclaimed in mock surprise. "I would ask what your wife would say to that, but I guess I can't, can I?"

Kayla had turned by now, her back against the railing, and her front facing the house. I boldly put a hand on her hip and leaned into her. Just before my lips met hers, just as it got incredibly quiet and tense around us, I whispered, "Tell me to stop."

Kayla breathed for a moment, her eyes looking into mine. "I can't."

Our lips met in a furious expression of built up sexual tension. I hadn't expected her to react and respond so energetically but I was glad as I felt her tongue pressing against my lips. I opened my mouth, letting our tongues swirl together as I moved my hand up her side, over to her breast, and cupped it through her shirt, squeezing it tightly.

Continuing the kiss, I moved my other hand around her back side and down to her butt, taking a handful of her ass, the same curves I'd admired quietly over the years, and squeezing it, pulling her into me. Taking my hand off her breast, I moved it down and tugged on the bottom of her shirt. Kayla moved back just enough for me to pull her shirt up and over her breasts, revealing to me a smooth, nude, front-clasp bra. Her breasts were full and perfectly held, the fabric stretched just enough to hint at how much it was containing.

I ended the kiss to look down at them. Honestly, it wasn't anything different than the numerous times I've seen her in either a sports bra or a tanktop, either in person or in a picture. But, something about this moment, me being the one to expose them, made them, and her, so much hotter.

"Here?" I questioned her in a whisper as I moved my hand close to her bra.

"Yes," she softly responded.

I unhooked her bra, letting the cups of it fall to the side and exposing her breasts to the cool evening weather. Kayla glanced down at them and watched as I slowly took both of them in my hands, brushing my fingers over her nipples and softly squeezing. "You have no idea how many times I've fantasized about these," I told her.

"Show me what you've wanted to do to them," Kayla said as she leaned back, pushing her chest towards me.

I leaned down, keeping both breasts in my hands, and quickly deciding to start with her left nipple. I flicked my tongue against it and sucked it into my mouth before moving to her right nipple and giving it the same treatment. They were even better then I had dreamed about.

As I sucked on her nipples, Kayla started to undo the belt holding up my pants. As I swiftly moved my mouth between her breasts, Kayla unzipped my jeans, pulled them apart, and reached inside to start rubbing my cock.

Pushing me away from her chest, Kayla squatted in front of me and pulled my cock out. She expertly used her mouth and hands to get me to my full length and thickness, not that I wasn't already there or close to it. She worked her tongue deliberately and confidently around my shaft before she wrapped her lips around my tip. I decided right then and there that that feeling must be what heaven is.

Kayla bobbed her head a couple times, taking most of my cock into her mouth before pulling out and standing up. Our hands moved in sync, tugging her jeans down over her hips together. As the denim slid away, a pair of simple white cotton bikini briefs came into view--soft, low-cut, the kind of underwear worn without a second thought. She hadn't dressed to seduce, but somehow, that made it even hotter. Modest, effortless, and burned into my memory.

After another brief but passionate kiss, Kayla turned around, bracing up against the railing as I pulled her underwear down just enough that she could spread her legs and show me her clean-shaven pussy. I put my hands on her lower back and started to squat down, wanting to taste her, but Kayla looked back at me and said, "We don't have a lot of time, Greg. Just fuck me."

With my face at her groin, I gave her one quick lick, tasting her sweet nectar before I stood up. With one hand still on her hip, I wrapped my other hand around my shaft, and guided my tip into her. As her moans filled the air in the backyard, I knew nobody could see us, but did get a little worried about a neighbor hearing us.

But that worry went away as soon as Kayla started to push her body back against mine. I put both of my hands on her hips and matched her rhythm with mine, sliding my cock in and out of her. I moved my hands up, rubbing the sides of her body, feeling her tight abs, going over her firm ass, her toned arms, her all-natural breasts, only stopping when she lifted up some, enough for me to lean forward and whisper, "You feel even better than I ever let myself imagine."

Kayla responded by gripping the railing tighter and pushing back with more urgency against me. "I shouldn't want or like this so much," she said.

"Say the word and I'll stop," I told her.

"Keep going. I just can't promise it'll ever happen again," Kayla said, continuing to push her body back against me.

Thinking to myself that if this is the only chance I have with her, I had better take full advantage of it. I wrapped my arms around her body, bringing my hands up to her chest. I roughly squeezed both of them, pulling her backwards into me as I continued to pound into her.

"Oh fuck," she moaned, pushing back against me.

"Too hard?" I asked.

"The rougher the better," she said, twisting her head around to kiss my lips.

If I die tomorrow, I'll die happy.

I used my fingers to pinch and rub her nipples as I kissed down to her neck, softly sucking her skin into my mouth before letting go and moving to another part of her soft neck. I let go of her breasts when I saw her reaching down, rubbing her clit vigorously with two fingers.

"Greg, I'm gonna come. Don't stop. Please. Fuck," she moaned, her pussy clenching around my cock, as her body shuddered with her pulse. Her head went down, pressing against the rail, as I held onto her hips to help keep her up.

The sounds that came out of her mouth and the way her body moved would forever be etched in my mind. My only regret was not being able to watch her face fill with pleasure.

As these thoughts went through my mind, I could feel my own climax coming. Before it got too late, I quickly asked Kayla if I could finish inside her.

"Yes," she moaned, once again moving her body back and forth, now that her orgasm had subsided. "I don't want to get any on me or on the deck."

"Do you normally like it on you?" I asked, turned on by the thought of her being covered in cum.

"Hell yes," she said, our bodies moving in rhythm together. "My back, my stomach, face or tits. My husband cums on me more than he cums in me."

"Oh fuck," I moaned as I started to orgasm with her dirty talk pushing me over the edge. I held on tightly to her hips, pulling her as close to me as possible while pushing in as deep as possible. I grunted with every pulse of my cock, sending my seed into her.

"Oh God, yes!" Kayla moaned as well, her head looking up into the sky as I filled her. "Fuck, that feels good."

I stayed inside her just long enough to memorize the feeling but not nearly long enough to satisfy it.

As I finished, I leaned down and kissed her neck, as my cock slipped out of her. With her head still down, Kayla took a deep breath before whispering, "Jesus, I can't believe that just happened." I took a step back as she stood up and turned to face me. She avoided my eyes at first, as she bent over to pull her underwear and jeans up. I did the same, hoping she wasn't feeling guilty or ashamed and that it wouldn't ruin our working relationship. Or friendship.

Instead, after I got myself tucked back away, she leaned up, kissed me, and said, "Next time, you can leave the clients out and just come yourself."