Chris lifted me off my feet, crushing me to himself; he kissed me until I couldn’t breathe. My fingers were combed wildly through his hair as he kissed me, my tongue stroking an erotic rhythm over his.

A soft breath hissed between my teeth as he skimmed a hand beneath my bra strap and let it fall off my shoulder.

Leaning in, he kissed me there. As he sought the right crest of my nipple, a raw moan bubbled up from my throat. Finding it, he suckled hard as he drew me deep into his mouth; all I could think of was him. Ruthlessly reining himself in, he lifted me off my feet and dropped me gently into the centre of the bed. I slid my palm down his chest and hips, edging closer. He took my hand and led it to the place he wanted. I roused equally from his bossiness as from the feel of his cock, thick and stiff against my palm. As he kissed me, I found a rhythm, stroking him in time with his flaring breath and the hungry sweeps of his tongue. For long minutes, I pleasured him, and I loved his sounds, the restless fidgeting of his body, and the heat and power of having him wrapped in my fist.

I marvelled at his weight as he knelt between my legs. The sight of him angling his cock to my lips deepened my excitement. He slid into me with a single, slow push. The intrusion drew a moan from my chest, but the sound was pure pleasure. Every rough thrust, every hard inch, lit me up.

As my pleasure grew, I sensed he was doing the same. We seemed to be rushing, racing towards the prize in no time. The scene blurred in front of my eyes, and all my awareness caught what he made me feel— served, celebrated, desired—everything, all from a single man.

The pleasure developed from heat to a taut, physical demand, the need to release bordering on pain. His fingertips moved with practised ease, and my excitement coiled tighter and tighter until the sensation burst and flooded. I was shaking and panting beneath him. His hips hammered me hard for a flurry of thrusts, and then he, too, gave in. His eyes were shut as he drove deep, the length of his body tensing with a series of grunts before finally going still. Sitting next to each other, we lay entwined, naked, in a full circle of completeness, and we fell asleep.

When I woke up, the sun was not fully risen, and the light trickling through the sheer curtains was so gentle that I had to keep my eyes closed. Lying on another man’s bed on the morning of my wedding anniversary gave me mixed feelings, although our moments, from lusty and hot to the sweetness in our sleep beside one another, like last night, never stopped enthralling me.

I took my bath and was ready to leave his apartment when he stopped me and said, “where do you think you’re going?” “To my family, of course”, I replied. “What family, Sandra, are you referring to the man that abandoned you when you needed him the most? I can’t continue being like this. I want you all to myself; I can’t keep sharing you with a man who doesn’t deserve you”, he replied furiously. “I am married, Chris, and above all, today is my wedding anniversary. I should give it some respect, and you can’t have me. What would people say? I’m your boss, don’t you get it?” I replied almost immediately, rolling my eyes at him.

“To hell with whatever people say”, he said and walked into the bathroom. I never knew my scandalous exploits would escalate to the extent of him wanting to have more than just sex. I wouldn’t have been in this situation if my husband had treated me like his wife; his business was more of a priority to him. He didn’t care about me, and he was never around. Every day I suffered from heartache so complex that I couldn’t put a name to it. Regret, sexual frustration; a mixed bag of negative emotions I wished I could lock down and forget.

Then I found solace in the arms of Chris, who happened to be my secretary; he’d noticed if I was happy or sad. He and attention I longed. Eventually, the unexpected happened, and we started dating.

Barely a month after we started dating, he was furious that I would go home to my other life, my real life and the fact that he couldn’t visualise the details of that life. I knew he was faced with the reality of me and the silver ring on my finger; he made it so apparent that he was frightened of being used and dumped by me. Suddenly, he became possessive, insecure or God knows what.

I was caught in an attraction, unlike anything I’d ever experienced. Chris would get jealous whenever I discussed my husband; he even called me anytime he wanted, not caring if it was conducive for me to pick up his call. He became too clingy for my liking, and I was beginning to lose it. He was already losing respect for me as his boss and starting to see me as his partner instead. I knew any moment from now, the most rash and reckless thing I’d ever done would come back and bite me.

I hadn’t been thinking, and I knew it was absurd to be having an affair with my staff, coupled with the fact that I am a married woman.

Still, no matter how much the consequences of my actions taunted me, I already wanted him again.

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Dorcas Akintoye is a versatile writer with a passion for beauty, fashion, relationships, and culinary delight. With a keen eye for detail and a passion for storytelling, she adds a touch of elegance to every topic she explores. She is a writer at THEWILL DOWNTOWN.

About Author / Dorcas Akintoye

Dorcas Akintoye is a versatile writer with a passion for beauty, fashion, relationships, and culinary delight. With a keen eye for detail and a passion for storytelling, she adds a touch of elegance to every topic she explores. She is a writer at THEWILL DOWNTOWN.

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