The Blinds Between Us Ch. 01

### Author's Note: This is the first story I've ever written originally in English. I'm ESL, so don't be too harsh if you see a "she had" that could simply have been "she'd", or whatever. I've painstakingly gone through every single line multiple times, but there are bound to be lingering errors.

There are two more parts to the story planned, depending on how this one is received.

P. S. If you'd be interested in beta reading my stories once a month, I'm actively looking.

Shoutout to Duil2 for taking the time to edit for me. ###

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When Nicole woke up, the morning sun was already finding its way through the partially open blinds. She knew instinctively, without looking at the hellish ticking torture device on her nightstand, that her young teens had made their own breakfast and headed out for school. She also knew that they would've left the table and kitchen counters a big mess. It was a small price she'd willingly pay, however, for the luxury of not having to take care of everyone else first thing in the morning.

It wasn't that Nicole didn't love doting on her kids. On a normal day, letting go was an ongoing exercise, as they became more and more independent. This morning wasn't a regular morning, however. Her head throbbed viciously, causing bile to rise to her throat. She rushed to the bathroom, as the conviviality of last night came back to collect its due. She didn't normally suffer the effects of a hangover this bad. Although, of course, she didn't normally drink as if she had a neighbor-shaped problem requiring a bottle-shaped solution.

This was all his fault. At least that's what she told herself as she rinsed the unwelcome taste from her mouth. It wasn't the first time he'd been the reason she'd done something against her own better judgment. He hadn't forced her to drink, but his antics had left her needing to settle her nerves. Oh, he behaved himself when their respective partners were present. No one would catch on to his shameless little game, not unless he let them. And yet, he seemed never to miss an opportunity to push her buttons.

Last night had been a perfect example.

Nicole had stood in front of the mirror beside Adam, her husband of sixteen years, getting ready for dinner at that damned man's place. She'd known exactly what awaited her as she deliberated over which accessories to wear. It was going to be another evening of carefully veiled advances, with the subtle emphasis he placed on certain words that carried meanings only she would understand.

It had started almost immediately. As he brought Adam and her on a tour of the garden, he remarked that his plums were "ripe for the taking," giving her a knowing look that went over her husband's head. He insisted that Adam have a taste. Eventually, her husband yielded. Adam took his time choosing between the plums. As he turned his back, absorbed in the simple pleasure of finding the perfect one, she felt the first touch of her neighbor's devious hand on her ass.

When Adam marveled over the plum's rich taste, her self-appointed tormentor gave her husband a friendly pat on the shoulder, assuring him that he would almost certainly "get a chance to share some of what his own garden had to offer."

The rest of the evening followed a pattern that had once been harmless banter and lately wasn't. When they eventually got home, her husband inevitably praised the man's quick wit and humor, completely oblivious to what Nicole had been subjected to all evening. She could have put a stop to it, of course. But why cause a scene over something that was, as far as everyone else was concerned, not even happening? They were next-door neighbors, after all. If she made a fuss, it was something they would all have to live with.

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The nausea still lingered, but as Nicole returned to the bedroom, she felt the familiar urge to lose herself in her new favorite morning routine. With her husband at work and the kids at school, the house was finally hers. She slipped out of her silk chemise, tossed it onto the floor, and lay back on the bed in nothing but her underwear. It had become an almost sacred ritual, a time when she could explore fantasies she'd once barely allowed herself to acknowledge. It wasn't that her husband was an inadequate lover. Even after all these years, he still took his time in bed to make sure her pleasure was a priority. In fact, he'd become remarkably skilled with his tongue, something she very much treasured.

No, her need for these moments had little to do with Adam, and everything to do with herself. For the longest time, admitting that her husband couldn't satisfy her every desire had felt almost taboo.

It had all started very innocently, with an idle search on one of those rare mornings when she had the house to herself. She'd stumbled across an online community for erotic fiction and, at first, had merely browsed out of curiosity. It hadn't taken long to discover that some fantasies held her attention considerably longer than others.

When Nicole closed her eyes, her mind returned to one of those particularly delicious fixations. One that she'd consumed of late in, frankly, unreasonable quantities. It was a fantasy she knew well by now, one she could slip into almost effortlessly. As she reached down, letting her hand trail over her bare skin toward her underwear, she was no longer alone in bed. She imagined her husband climbing up on top of her. Somehow, the man in her fantasy was always a little more muscular, a little more imposing, and more endowed than Adam had ever been in real life.

As her fingers found her sex under the thin fabric, the husband in her mind wasn't the gentle lover she was accustomed to. He grabbed her by her wrists, pinning her to the mattress. His touch was urgent, as if his desire for her had finally broken through the restraint he'd always maintained. She imagined his voice moaning into her ear as she rubbed herself, surrendering more and more to the fantasy.

"God, what a tight cunt you have, love."

His language was uncharacteristically filthy and uninhibited. The words stirred something deep within her. She'd never heard Adam speak to her like that, and imagining it made her pulse quicken.

"If you keep gripping me like that, I'll be blowing my load into you quickly."

That one really did it for her. The thought of his swimmers painting her insides made her body squirm. It was what she kept coming back to. His voice hadn't sounded quite right, but it didn't matter. In her mind, he was stronger. He was dominant. He was what she secretly needed him to be. Her fingers rubbed in circles, shifting her clitoral hood from side to side. Every nerve ending in her lower body was coming alive, the sensation spreading uncontrollably through her. She grabbed one of her tits and squeezed hard, imagining herself finally man-handled by her man.

"You aren't on the pill, are you?" the voice growled, causing her stomach to lurch. This wasn't Adam's voice, not even his words. It was bloody his! When had the voice started sounding like that in her head? How long had he been intruding into her mind without her noticing? She should have stopped as the man in her fantasies became him. Became Michael. Her handsome, deplorable, married next-door neighbor. And yet her fingers kept stroking her clit, unwilling to abandon the pleasure building inside her. Infuriatingly, her body responded to the thought of him as a shudder ran through her. She hated that he'd managed to invade yet another private dimension of her.

And worse, she could picture him perfectly. The strong build that normally showed only through his clothes. The faint crease that appeared beside his eyes when he smiled. She could even picture the dark hair normally hidden beneath his shirt, spreading across his chest.

Oh, for fuck's sake. She groaned as she realized that some small, treacherous part of her didn't want it to stop. Such a ridiculous weakness.

"You'll look so damn fine pregnant," the voice continued. For once, it didn't carry any pretense. Nicole stilled her fingers, pressing her hand down instead, letting the heel of her palm grind into her mound. The flesh of her pink folds was more sensitive than she'd expected as her fingers pushed her lips apart, penetrating her inner depths. This wasn't the way she normally pleasured herself. Adam was the one who usually reached these parts of her. It should've felt unnatural. But somehow, as her mind betrayed her with images of Michael, her hands refused to listen. She needed the illusion of being pinned down and penetrated roughly.

Her core clamped down hard on her own fingers as their tips rubbed along her most sensitive spots. She imagined his solid build on her, pressing her down into the mattress. His knees forcing her legs wider apart. She drove her fingers in and out of her slick cunt, imagining it was Michael's thick member instead. For some reason, it seemed fitting that he'd be hung in her mind.

"Knock me up, you bastard."

Her voice was barely a whimper. She didn't even register that words had escaped her lips. Nicole cried out as waves of pleasure rode through her body. It wasn't the kind of orgasm she'd usually get, touching herself. It was deeper in her core, echoing longer throughout her body. Her chest heaved, her breath gradually settling as her hand withdrew from beneath her underwear. Her shaking hand came to rest over her groin.

Whatever serenity the orgasm had given her abruptly shattered when a lawnmower roared to life outside, its obnoxious growl somehow finding its way directly into the bedroom. Nicole jerked at the sudden noise, her body tensing before she'd even fully registered what had disturbed her. The damned noise is coming from straight under the fucking window! She threw herself out of bed and marched barefoot to the window. She yanked the cord so hard that something snapped, leaving the blinds hanging crooked across the glass. Furiously, she shoved the handle down and swung the window open. As she looked out, there he stood, his broad chest bare, a hint of sweat glistening on his skin as if he were purposely mocking her.

She turned for the stairs, snatching a used tank top off a stool and pulling it on as she stormed off. Normally, she'd find the idea of marching out to scold a neighbor ridiculous. In her current frame of mind, the only ridiculous thing was what Michael was going to look like once she ripped him a new one.

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Michael didn't take notice of her until she was just yards away. He let go of the handle, and the mower sputtered to a stop. His brows furrowed in confusion, but before he had the chance to speak, Nicole was on him. She reached out, planted her palms against his pecs, using her forward momentum to shove him back.

"You." Nicole jabbed a finger into his chest before jamming both hands on her hips. "You are gonna back the FUCK off, alright? No more touching my ass. No more flirting in front of my husband."

She felt her heart hammering in her chest. Michael raised both hands, the corners of his mouth twitching.

"Relax, love. I've just been having a bit of fun."

"Like hell you have," she spat. "You've been trying to get inside my pants for weeks. And now you're parading around bare-chested, flaunting those perfect abs, acting like I'm just going to give it to you."

"You think I don't notice the way you look at me?" he asked. "Darling, it fucking keeps me up at night wondering how far you're gonna let it go."

She blinked, momentarily thrown by the unexpected seriousness in his voice.

"Oh, please."

"No, I'm serious." His smile faded. "You look at me like you want something, then you act like I'm imagining it. Do you have any idea what that does to me?"

"Don't. Don't you dare make this about your feelings right now."

She jabbed a finger toward his chest again.

"I don't care what it does to you," she hissed. The words came out with more bite than she'd intended, maybe more than he deserved. "I'm telling you, no more subtle bullshit. You are done making me horny."

Michael's eyebrows rose.

"I've made you horny?"

Nicole's mouth snapped shut. For one glorious second, she felt like she might actually find a hole in the lawn and crawl into it.

"Ah, trying..." She waved a furious hand between them. "You know what I fucking meant, you big prick."

Whatever lecture she'd prepared in her head on the way here, it was all ruined. The damage was absolute. Michael was smiling like a scoundrel. A big, handsome, hairy-chested scoundrel who had weaseled himself into her most private thoughts. She hated the pleased look on his face. Even that stupid, unfairly sculpted jaw seemed determined to provoke her.

He let his gaze travel down her body. She could feel his eyes lingering where they had no business looking. Her face flushed as she became aware of where his eyes were fixed.

The realization struck her like a slap in the face. She was standing in front of him, wearing nothing but panties beneath her top.

His smile widened as he closed the distance between them. Nicole tried to hold her ground, but he kept stepping closer until he eventually had her backed against the garage wall. All of a sudden, his presence felt unnervingly close. She struggled to appear unfazed, but the cold wooden boards at her back only served to heighten her awareness of him.

"I know a lot of things," he said, pausing as he looked her up and down, his gaze lingering on her bare legs. He gestured at them with an open palm, as if presenting evidence. "For one, it seems like I'm done trying to get into your pants."

"Don't flatter yourself," she countered, swatting his hand aside. "That's not an invitation."

"I'm supposed to believe you sought me out, in your skimpiest underwear, to convince me I should stop pursuing you?"

"Excuse me?" she objected, her voice incredulous. "When did linen hipsters become skimpy?"

"Please, if you didn't want it, you wouldn't be here, dressed as if you're looking to get railed."

"As if I'd want to be railed by a brute like you." She glanced down at herself. "These are my sensible underwear, you asshole."

Before she'd even finished the sentence, she knew she'd only dug herself deeper. She couldn't bring herself to look back up at him.

"You know I'm not going to stop flirting with you," he whispered with an almost chilling calm. She hated how easily that assured voice of his made her doubt whether she was still in control of her own thoughts.

"And somehow," he continued, "I doubt you really want me to."

Her stomach gave an entirely unhelpful little flip.

"You are unbelievable."

"That's not a denial," he said, coolly. "I could reach down and touch you right now, and you wouldn't stop me."

Her eyes returned to his, staring him down defiantly.

"Oh, fuck you. You wouldn't have the balls."

One of his eyebrows lifted. He held her gaze long enough for the corner of his mouth to curl into a slow smile.

"Wouldn't I?"

His smile widened, drawing an unwanted flutter in her chest. God, what that handsome face of his could do to her. Her eyes narrowed as he reached out, pressing his fingers into the thin fabric between her legs. Nicole gritted her teeth, instinctively pressing her thighs together. She forced her eyes shut, refusing to allow him the satisfaction of seeing what his touch was doing to her.

"One of these days, you are gonna be begging for it."

He withdrew his hand. The crisp autumn air drew her attention to the damp fabric, making it feel cool against her skin.

Her eyes snapped open and quickly found his. She wanted to slap the arrogant smirk off his face, but her hands hung uselessly at her sides. A flush of embarrassment spread through her chest. He'd turned her own tirade back on her with humiliating ease. She wasn't about to let this arrogant prick have the last word.

"The day you hear me beg is the day this yard mows itself." She jabbed her finger again, this time at the lawnmower. "Back to pushing, grandpa."

Nicole stormed off to avoid escalating things further. It wasn't her finest moment, but she told herself it wasn't the worst, either. It felt like she'd gotten the last word.

And yet, why did his wicked smile haunt her?

She hurried inside and didn't stop until she was back in the bedroom, momentarily unsure what she'd come in there for. Her eyes flicked toward the window, then looked around. Her phone was still where she'd left it on the nightstand. She grabbed it and hit Adam's number on speed dial.

Just as Adam picked up, the lawnmower roared back to life, drowning out whatever greeting he'd given her.

"Hi. You need to buy new blinds for the bedroom window on your way home. No questions, I'm not in the mood. See you tonight, hun."

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Nicole spent the remainder of the day burying herself in chores. She vacuumed the entire house and changed the bedding in every room. Then she prepared lasagna for dinner, Adam's favorite, with home-grown squash and mushrooms.

She tried her best to keep her mind occupied, but memories of the encounter kept flashing back in fragments when she wasn't immediately busy. His voice, his touch, the feel of his fingers between her legs.

The kids returned home before she had time to go crazy, and their presence provided a much-needed relief from her thoughts. When Adam got home, she stood by the door and welcomed him with kisses. She loved the way he looked whenever he was reminded that he'd been missed. She'd almost forgotten how much that boyish little smile of his meant to her.

By the time the kids had gone to sleep, Nicole was more than eager to have her husband in bed. While he was installing the new blinds, she had taken a bath, shaved her private bits, put on perfume, and slipped into her favorite silk nightgown. She knew too well he loved it when she took the initiative. When she let him take the lead, he'd start slow, exploring every facet of her. It would eventually get her off, but tonight, her need felt too urgent. She waited what seemed like forever for him to finish brushing his teeth. By the time he entered the bedroom, she was ready to pounce on him.

They kissed wildly as she struggled briefly to unbutton his shirt. She gripped him by his belt buckle and pushed him back onto the bed. Adam lay naked in front of her moments later. Whatever surprise had been in his eyes quickly disappeared as Nicole climbed on top of him. His gaze fixed on her bare thighs as her silk chemise rode up. She felt his penis twitch in her hand, hardening as she ground against him.

Normally she would've explored his body. She would've kissed his lips, his neck, down his chest and below. She would've taken her time, savoring the effect she had on him. Tonight, there was an urgency deep in her soul she hadn't felt in a long time. She lifted herself slightly, raising her hips as she shifted into position.

"Wait," he said, reaching for the nightstand.

For the briefest moment, a tinge of disappointment flickered inside her. She wasn't willing to let it ruin the night, though. Not tonight. She nodded agreeably and took the condom from his hand, ripping its wrapper and tossing it on the floor beside the bed. Wasting no time, she sheathed his length and positioned him at her entrance. He groaned involuntarily as she placed her hands on his chest for balance and sank all the way down on him. His lips parted, mouthing 'honey,' but she leaned forward, silencing his words with her hand before his voice fully emerged. Whatever he'd intended to say dissolved into muffled moans as she rode him, rocking her hips against him as though she were breaking in a new horse. He reached for her tits, squeezing them as he tried to hold on. It didn't take long for the wild ride to push him over the edge. His face contorted in ways Nicole had seldom seen as he came, but she kept impaling herself on his cock until he softened and slipped out of her. She fell over him, panting as she tried to catch her breath. Any lingering anxiety over her earlier indiscretion had faded by now.

"Love, what came over you tonight? You were inspired," Adam asked as he tied off the condom and dropped it on the floor.

She groaned inside when thoughts of her "inspiration" returned to her. Calling it inspiration felt generous. "Confession material" would be closer to hitting the mark. It wasn't right to be thinking about him now. She leaned in and kissed her husband on the lips, almost as if she could smother the thoughts before they had a chance to take root.

"If I knew being your handyman would net me reactions like this, I'd take time off work and remodel the house," Adam said, grinning.

He had fixed the blinds, of course. She'd give him that. Adam had never been the man to shy away from taking care of their home. She loved that about him, she realized. He hadn't made her cum this time, but that was on her. And it genuinely didn't matter. He was her rock. Her big, snuggly bear. She nuzzled her head into his safe arms.

"Aren't you the cozy one?" he said. He gently brushed her bangs back as he stroked her head. "We've barely talked today, hun. How was your day?"

She nearly laughed at the absurdity of the question. Thankfully, sixteen years of marriage had taught her how to dodge a bullet or two.

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The next day, Nicole woke to sunlight spilling through the new blinds. She stayed in bed for a while. There was no reason to rush, after all. Her shift didn't start until noon, and again, she had the house to herself. She had no intention of spending it quite the same way she had in recent days, however. Her stomach seemed to approve, grumbling as it reminded her she'd slept well into the morning.

There was a spring in her step as she made her way down to the kitchen. She hummed a song she couldn't quite remember the name of while she brewed the first pot of coffee. For once, she felt completely at ease, without anything weighing on her mind. Practically gliding between the cupboards and the fridge, she made herself breakfast.

With coffee in hand, she entered the sunroom. It hadn't been fully warmed yet by the morning sun, so she brought a blanket and settled into a chair. She thoroughly enjoyed the warmth as it slowly spread over her skin, chasing away the lingering shadows. Despite taking only small sips, the coffee ran out sooner than she'd have liked. She brought the cup to her lips and drained the last of it. Reluctant to let the morning end, she remained for another moment. Eventually, she pulled the blanket aside and got to her feet.

She made her way up to the bedroom, still in her nightgown as she opened the wardrobe, carefully contemplating which look to wear. She wouldn't be able to stand out too much in her work attire, but Nicole told herself that every little detail mattered with a promotion within reach.

She set her chosen clothes on the stool by the door. As she closed the wardrobe, something registered in her peripheral vision. She'd seen movement, but couldn't quite tell where it had come from. Scanning the room, her gaze settled on the window. Unable to make sense of it, she stepped closer, narrowing her eyes, hoping to catch something. The movement flickered again. She reached up, parting two of the slats with her fingers. It took her a moment to understand what she was looking at.

Through the tiny gap, she could see straight into the bedroom next door. There, caught in the glow of the morning light, stood a man she recognized all too well. She'd seen him plenty of times before, of course. In the yard. Across the fence. At the dinner table. But there was something strangely intimate about seeing him like this, alone in his bedroom, moving about in only his underwear without a thought that he might be seen. Nicole knew she shouldn't be watching. She knew it, and reasoned with herself anyway: surely, an innocent little peek could do no harm.

Her eyes lingered on him. He wasn't some impossibly sculpted Adonis. He was simply Michael. Broad through the shoulders, solidly built, with the kind of body that came from years of being active. Admittedly, the sight of him was one of the few ways she let herself indulge in his pursuit of her. Nothing more could be allowed to happen, but at least in her mind, she could picture it.

Her brows furrowed. Beneath the thick mat of hair on his chest, below each of his shoulders, ran two wide surgical scars. Nicole couldn't help staring. Yesterday, she must've had her hands right on them. How on earth had she missed them? But of course she had. She'd been far too busy being furious to see anything at all. What could possibly have caused injuries like that? They'd all hung out countless times over the years, and he'd never once mentioned it. Seeing a part of him he'd never chosen to share felt oddly intrusive.

She hadn't meant to, but as her eyes dropped lower, her breath caught. Suddenly she found herself unable to look elsewhere. Of course. Of fucking course. A sizable bulge strained against his snug briefs as he moved around the room, apparently rummaging through his wardrobe. Heat rushed through her in all the places it shouldn't have, and she caught herself pressing her thighs together.

If it hadn't been clear before, it was evident to Nicole now that she should be stepping away from the window. But for whatever reason, she kept watching. Her hand drifted down, fingertips grazing across her belly.

It looked like he was packing, taking clothes from the wardrobe and laying them on what she assumed was the bed. He hadn't mentioned going anywhere during their earlier dinner, which made her wonder where he was headed. She watched him fold a shirt, smoothing the fabric before setting it aside. There was something disarmingly mundane about the sight.

Then she froze. In his hands, Michael now held a piece of black leather she couldn't quite place. She watched him hold it up in front of him, as if deciding whether to bring it. As it unfolded, straps and buckles fell into place, making its purpose evident. A new flush of heat warmed her cheeks. She'd come across harnesses in erotic novels before. She'd even googled them to learn more, though she'd never seen one in person. Something about it being tucked in next to white shirts and a suit didn't sit quite right, though. Whatever this trip was, she had a few ideas, and even more questions as to what it might involve. One question stayed with her. Was it something he intended to wear himself, or had he packed it for someone else?

Michael suddenly disappeared from view. At first, she assumed he was moving around the upper floor. She knew the house well, not just from the many times she'd visited, but also because every house on the street had been built alike. There weren't many places he could have gone, not unless he'd gone downstairs. She kept her eyes on the window, expecting him to reappear. A minute passed. Then another. She frowned, unsure whether she was more annoyed that he hadn't returned or that she wanted him to. Eventually, she decided that she'd had enough. Tearing her gaze from the window, she told herself this ridiculous little act of surveillance was over.

It lasted a full seven seconds before curiosity overruled her resolve.

She slowly parted the blinds again, just enough to see through the gap. As she looked back, Michael had returned, phone in hand, absorbed by something on the screen. It suddenly struck Nicole that he wasn't wearing underwear anymore as her eyes were drawn to the sight of his large cock. It wasn't that it was exceptionally long. He was completely flaccid, after all. But the way the shape of him hung heavy between his legs confirmed something she'd been thinking for some time now: that his confidence couldn't be all bravado. Before she could stop herself, her traitorous hand was already slipping under her nightgown. She let her fingers brush against her pussy, wondering what it would be like to feel someone like that inside her. It scared her to think just how close she'd come the day before.

Whatever he'd been doing on the phone came to an abrupt end as he dropped it on the bed. His gaze slowly rose toward her window, but before his eyes could find her, she let go of the blinds and threw herself to the side, out of sight of the window. She stayed pressed against the wall for several seconds, listening to nothing but the pounding of her own heart. This is ridiculous. Surely, he hadn't caught her. Letting out a slow breath, she willed her heart to settle before pushing herself off the wall. Straightening herself, she stepped back toward the window.

He was still there, standing with his back partly turned toward her, his arm locked in a telltale, incriminating rhythm. Her attention narrowed to the movement of his hand and the unmistakable shape of what it almost obscured. Before, she might've still believed her own lies, that she was innocent in this. But as she gathered the hem of her silk nightgown and lifted it up, exposing her bare sex to the morning air, pretense was no longer possible. Her wrist pinned the garment as her fingers found their way between her legs.

The sheer, forbidden thrill of spying on him, of watching him lose control in the privacy of his own room, left her hazy with arousal. Nicole acted on instinct, her trembling fingertips matching his rhythm, circling her clit and sending sharp jolts of pleasure through her.

For a while, nothing existed beyond the two of them. The movement of his hand, the quiet rhythm of her own, and the intoxicating sense that they were somehow sharing the same secret. Then, without warning, his movement slowed and his head turned. He glanced toward her house. Through the barely parted blinds, their eyes locked.

Nicole froze, her heart leaping in her chest. Her every instinct screamed to let go of the blinds, to step back and shut whatever lay on the other side out. Maybe she could pretend this had never happened. But her hand remained between her thighs, and some reckless, thrilled part of her had awakened, refusing to be shut out. Refusing to let go of him, to forget every stolen touch, every carefully veiled advance. How could she, when his words still reverberated through her, the idea of him lying awake, tormented by the thought of her? What would he do if she relented?

Nicole reached for the wand beside the window, her hand hesitating for a single, wavering second before she twisted it, flipping the blinds fully open. His eyes widened as she came into full view. They didn't have their usual mischievous quality, however. For a moment he looked genuinely caught off guard, as if it had never occurred to him that he might've been seen in the first place.

Then his eyes fell, and she saw the cogs begin to turn as he took in the state of her. She was a mess, one boob spilling out of her silk chemise, her long auburn hair coming loose. His gaze fixed on her exposed sex, watching as her fingers brushed against herself. This was his first time seeing her cunt, she realized. She should have been embarrassed, but rather than covering herself, she looked deeply into his eyes. There was no shame left in her, only a deep, desperate need to know what he would do if she gave him more.

She watched him take his thick meat in his hand, fondling it hesitantly, as if waiting for an objection. The only thing on Nicole's mind was how utterly erotic it was, watching his cock harden in his hand. Biting her lip seductively, she slid two fingers in between her glistening folds, giving him a clear view of what he could soon get to experience himself.

As if given permission, he began stroking himself with increased urgency, his free hand reaching out to steady himself against the window frame.

Her own fingers stilled between her legs as a single thought took hold. She wanted him closer than this, wanted the feel of his hands on her, instead of her own. It was an irreversible, sinful thought that somehow had begun feeling inevitable. She leaned forward, unlatching her window and pushing it open. Cool autumn air whispered over her naked skin as she watched him follow her lead.

"Michael," she called, breathless. "Come over."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?"

She thought about it for a moment. It wasn't a good idea. It was a very bad idea. In fact, it was the worst of ideas. But by this point, her entire body craved to surrender to this forbidden desire.

"Don't make me beg."

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Nicole watched Michael throw on the nearest available clothes before disappearing out of view. She did the opposite, slipping out of the nightgown, tossing it on the floor, readying herself for him. Her eyes caught the perfume bottle on the dresser. She grabbed it without quite deciding to, spritzing a quick cloud over her collarbone. The framed wedding photo mocked her as she put the bottle down. She swallowed down the guilt with an uneasy sigh, flipping the photo face down, resigning herself to what was about to happen.

Nicole climbed up on the bed and waited for him, her nerves fraying with every passing second. The house creaked as wind moved beneath the roof. Every little sound around her seemed amplified. She found herself holding her breath, her chest tightening as she listened for signs of him.

The sound of the handle being yanked reached her bedroom, then the front door slammed shut. Nicole jumped, surprising even herself. The front door? In broad daylight? In full view of the street! She'd at least expected him to be discreet. For a moment, everything was quiet. Then the stairs creaked, one step at a time, as he made his way up to her.

And then he was there, his chest heaving as he steadied himself in the doorway. Michael, the man she'd gone to such lengths to resist, now allowed into her own bedroom. Her body felt warm, almost ablaze as he came to stand beside the bed. She suddenly felt very exposed as his eyes feasted on her naked body, moving from her breasts, over her stomach and down through the valley between her legs. She let her legs fall to the sides, allowing him an unobstructed view of her most intimate parts. Of what was going to be his.

He began undressing, unhurried as he watched her, throwing his shirt onto the dresser. Her eyes left him for a moment, following the shirt as it landed over the small frame, making it almost entirely disappear. Her attention returned to him as she heard the sound of his belt buckle unclasping. She bit her lip as his shorts fell and his thick shaft unexpectedly appeared in view. He was even larger up close. Nicole held his longing gaze as she reached down, rubbing her pussy for his pleasure. She relished watching the hunger in his eyes grow as her fingers quickened. As the first moan escaped her lips, it occurred to her that they hadn't said a word since he'd arrived.

"Come fuck me, you big prick."

Her voice was thick with anticipation, her words willing him to close the distance between them. He stopped right next to her, his eyes dropping to the floor beside the bed.

"You've been busy," he said, raising an eyebrow. Nicole followed his gaze as he reached down. He held the discarded red condom wrapper as he rose. For a moment, she didn't know what to say. Then she looked back at him.

"Don't you dare."

He dropped the wrapper back to the floor.

"I didn't realize you still used them."

He reached out, forcing her knees wider as he climbed up in front of her.

"I don't react well to hormones." Her voice was a whisper.

She felt his hand behind her neck, pulling her toward him as he leaned in. His lips sought hers with a startling hunger. His mouth traced her chin, kissing its way up her neck until his lips found her ear.

"I'll have to make sure to pull out then, won't I?" His voice was a quiet murmur, resonating through her as his lips returned to hers.

"No kissing, just fuck me," she moaned into his lips, but the words she formed became entirely unconvincing as she threw her arms around his strong neck, kissing him back despite herself. He lowered himself over her, his weight pressing her back into the mattress. His mouth found her exposed neck, nestling in beneath her long curls. She felt his hard erection against her slick folds as his body moved against her, his hands reaching back, untangling her hold.

"Not until I've savored every inch of your body."

He began making good on his promise as he kissed his way down. His hands trailed her arms, grabbing hold of her wrists, pinning her in place as his unshaven jaw tickled her sensitive skin. The fantasy she'd been lost in the other day came rushing back, only now there was nothing imaginary about the man holding her down.

A shiver ran through her as his mouth moved lower, each kiss lingering a little longer than the last. When his lips reached the space between her breasts, she instinctively arched her back, pressing herself against him. She felt the loss of his hardness against her as he slid lower, but her frustration was put on hold as his lips gently grazed her perky nipple. She groaned as he teased her, moving her chest as best she could to turn the feather-light flicks of his tongue into deeper contact. Michael seemed to understand her wordless request, taking a mouthful of her breast, hungrily sucking her nipple. Deep within her, something stirred, an old longing she'd almost forgotten how to name. A longing she had reluctantly agreed to let go of. Nicole shifted beneath him, impatient for more.

"Lower..."

Her eyes closed as she felt his lips explore their way down. He let go of her wrists as he let his hands follow his movement down along her body. His palms closed around her breasts, coarse stubble faintly rasping against her smooth-shaven skin as his face moved down over her mound. His breath felt warm against her damp skin. She ached for his mouth against her sensitive pussy, tasting the wetness that should have been reserved for her man alone. His hands kneaded her tits possessively, rolling her nipples between his fingers as though they were his to play with. It was excruciating, waiting for him to make contact with her slick folds. Her body was writhing under his weight, desperate to feel his mouth on her sex.

She fought to hold back the words rising in her throat, but her resolve was failing her by the second.

"Please," she whimpered, barely recognizing her own voice. "Michael, please."

"Please, what?" His voice was calm, almost unnervingly controlled, as though he weren't addressing someone trembling with need.

"Please lick my cunt."

"Say it belongs to me."

"Michael..." Nicole hesitated, reluctant to surrender the last threads of her resistance.

"Say it." His voice didn't rise at all, and somehow that was worse than if it had. His nose brushed along the inside of her thigh, close enough to feel his breath but nowhere near where she needed him. "I can tell your slick cunt is aching to be mine."

A frustrated cry escaped her throat as she lifted her hips toward him, chasing the contact he refused to give.

"It's yours," she gasped. "My cunt is yours. Fucking do with me what you will. Just please, Michael..."

That was all he needed as he lowered his mouth to her glistening lips, taking in the taste of her. Nicole's last coherent thought dissolved into pleasure as he lapped at her cleft in a quick, steady rhythm, varying only the pressure of his tongue. He sucked her sensitive clit into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue before letting it go. He alternated between the two until nothing but her desperate cries filled the room. Nicole lost count of how many times her hips had bucked against his mouth.

"Please, please..." she begged over and over, as if it was the only word she could remember how to form. "Please, Michael."

She wanted his mouth never to leave her, and yet what she wanted most was to feel him inside her. And she no longer cared that he had reduced her to a sobbing, begging mess.

"I need..." She dragged in a ragged breath, struggling to string the words together. "I need your cock. You insufferable bastard."

"I thought you wouldn't be begging for it." He looked up at her, that devious smile of his tugging at his mouth. Nicole reached for his arms, pulling at them.

"Just fuck me, old man."

She gasped as his strong hands gripped her hips, flipping her onto her stomach. He hauled her up onto her knees, one hand pressing flat between her shoulder blades as he forced her body forward. Nicole went down, her arms bracing to catch her weight as her head came to rest against the mattress. She arched her back as well as she could, exposing herself to him fully.

Unconsciously, she tensed as she felt his length brush along her slick folds. For one brief moment she worried he'd split her apart. Then she felt his engorged head force her lips open from behind, her unprotected cunt stretching out to accommodate his large invading length as he drove into her slowly.

"You were worth the wait," he moaned in pleasure, and any fear she might've had that it would hurt slowly faded as he took his time to ease deeper into her.

"Oh fuck, you are tight, Nicky," he groaned as her vaginal muscles involuntarily clenched around his thick shaft. She felt full in a way she hadn't quite felt before, but the fullness only felt good.

"Fuck, you're big." She gasped, adjusting to him.

"Are you okay?" he asked, slowing slightly.

"It's good." She nodded, urging him on. "You can go faster."

Her nails dug into the mattress as he began plowing into her. Each time he drove forward, his hips hit against her cheeks with a sharp, heavy slapping noise that echoed through the quiet room. Nicole buried her face into the pillow, trying to muffle the sounds escaping her, but every thrust sent fresh shockwaves coursing through her body. Adam had never fucked her like this. The thought should have crushed her, but before it could fester, Michael rammed his fat, married cock into her again. She felt his hand bury itself in her hair, gripping it, pulling until he forced her to arch back to meet him.

"Mine," he growled against her ear, as if the word needed no further explanation.

Something about hearing it, feeling the possessive pull of his fist in her hair as he said it, undid her completely. He wasn't just fucking her anymore. He was staking a claim, branding something in her that had no business being his to take. And God help her, she wanted him to have it.

Her release built fast, coiling deep within her before breaking all at once, wrenching a cry from her throat that she didn't recognize as her own. Her walls clamped down around him, spasming with every thrust as he continued to use her through it, showing no signs of slowing.

She was squealing as he kept slamming into her with increasing ferocity, faster than she'd ever imagined she could take him. But she had surrendered to it completely, surrendered to him. It wasn't gentle lovemaking. He was claiming her the way a stallion would take his mare, entirely unrestrained. It dawned on her that nothing was going to stop him. He'd ravage her relentlessly until he came, until he'd filled her with his potent load. And she didn't care. She wanted to be bred, for him to plant his big dick genes deep within her.

"Give it to me!" she wailed, with a voice she didn't know she had, slamming back against his thrusts. He roared as he drove his entire length into her and erupted, a loud, primal cry of ecstasy as his seed spilled out deep within her married, unprotected cunt.

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His cum was slowly trickling out, running down her legs. She lay beside him, watching her own hand trace over the length of his scars. She looked up at him for a long, quiet while, studying him curiously, hesitant to ask the questions forming in her mind.

"What's this?" she finally dared, her fingers resting on one of the scars.

"It's nothing," he responded, sounding slightly dismissive. "Had an accident when I worked offshore is all."

"What happened?" She tried to keep her tone respectful. For a moment, Michael fell quiet, making Nicole question if he was even going to respond.

"A pressure valve was about to blow," he began, sounding oddly distant. "I saw it before one of the other crewmen did and tried to..." He trailed off, not quite finding the words.

"Funny, the things you remember," he said, mostly to himself. "The sound came first. Then I saw the valve. Tried to pull him back, but it ruptured before I could get him clear." He paused, scratching his brow absently. Something within her ached for him.

"As I turned to avoid the gas, I tumbled over the railing and fell three decks. Shattered both my shoulders. I'm lucky I can still use my arms."

"What happened to him?"

Michael didn't answer right away, and she knew instinctively that she would regret having asked.

"He wasn't as lucky."

The words landed heavier than she'd expected, existing between them long after they were spoken. Something changed in his eyes. He blinked it away almost as quickly as it appeared, and Nicole pretended not to notice as she hugged him.

"I'm sorry."

Her words rang hollow. Michael shrugged.

"It was a long time ago."

She looked at him, searching his face.

"You tried to save him."

"Yeah, well..."

There was something in the way he said it that made her chest tighten. She traced the edge of the scar again, more gently this time.

"Do you ever think about him?"

"Every day. Mostly about his kids, though. He has a lovely family." He trailed off again, before correcting himself. "Had."

He glanced down at his shoulder, where a small line of text sat inked into his skin, faded at the edges. She hadn't noticed it before.

"That's...?"

"Tommy," Michael said, before she could finish asking. "Kept meaning to get it touched up. Never got around to it."

She wasn't sure what to say to that. For once, the man who always seemed to have a clever answer had nothing more to offer. After a moment, Michael glanced down at her.

"You know, you're staring at my scars an awful lot for someone who supposedly invited me in for my personality."

Nicole snorted.

"I haven't seen anything resembling a personality yet."

"There she is."

She smiled despite herself.

"Besides," she added, running a finger along his shoulder. "I was wondering how you managed to break both shoulders and still look like this."

"Years of careful rehabilitation."

"Liar."

"Fine. Mostly vanity."

Nicole lay quietly beside him, her head resting against his shoulder. She didn't want to think about how natural this felt. A small, cold knot had already started forming in her stomach, one she wasn't ready to look at directly.

She pushed herself up onto one elbow, putting a few inches of space between them.

"This can't happen again."

Michael just lay there quietly.

"Okay."

She blinked. She'd expected something more, but it never came.

"That's it?"

He turned his head on the pillow to look at her.

"What do you want me to say?"

She didn't know. That was the problem. She wanted him to argue with her, to make this harder than it felt right now. But he didn't, and she hated that it made sense to her, that she understood why he couldn't.

She looked at him, suddenly conscious of how much she'd enjoyed simply being here. Talking to him. Listening to him. Learning things about him she'd never known. Truthfully, he had fascinated her for longer than she cared to admit. And that, more than anything he could have said, was what frightened her.

"I mean it." She kept her eyes fixed on some point past his shoulder, unwilling to look at him directly. "It was just sex, and as good as it was, it was probably a mistake," she said.

It sounded colder out loud than it had in her head. Michael was quiet for a moment, his expression unreadable.

"I know."

He shifted beside her as he sat up, reaching for his shorts on the floor.

"I'm leaving tomorrow for work. For a couple of days."

Nicole felt an unexpected pang of disappointment and instantly hated herself for it.

"Good," she said, unconvincingly.

He glanced back over his shoulder, buckling his belt, a faint smile on his lips.

"I'll be back Thursday."

She stared at him. He held her gaze, unfazed, as he lifted his shirt off the dresser, uncovering the frame beneath.

"Michael..."

"What?"

She opened her mouth, ready to admonish him, but stopped as something she'd almost forgotten came back to her.

"Nothing. I take it the harness is for your extracurriculars?"

He went still, shirt in hand, the faint smile disappearing from his face.

"How do you know about that?"

"I have a window, Michael." She smiled sweetly. "Remember?"

He straightened.

"It's not what you think." He hesitated. "I'm not..."

His voice faltered. To Nicole's surprise, he wasn't able to finish the sentence. After everything that had happened, this was what fazed him?

"I didn't say I thought anything." She settled back against the pillows as if it didn't matter, though her pulse betrayed her. "Have fun on your little work trip."

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Nicole looked at her smartwatch as she shifted the stick into gear. 11:53. So seven minutes to drive the ten-minute trip to work. She cursed him again as she pulled out of the driveway entirely too fast. He had gotten her to break her vows. Betraying herself almost as much as she had betrayed Adam. And now, he was gonna make her drive like a bloody bank robber too. She didn't dare to imagine what would happen in a couple of days. And yet, she couldn't wait to find out.