He had opened the heavy oak door to find Katherine standing on his porch, entirely drenched from the sudden, violent downpour.
“I’m so sorry, David,” she had chattered, her arms wrapped around herself. “I went for a run and the sky just opened up. The keypad on Sean’s side gate shorted out in therain, and I don’t have my phone. Can I please use yours to call the estate manager?”
She was shivering violently, wearing nothing but a pair of skin-tight, soaked black leggings and a thin, white sports bra that the rain had rendered completely transparent.
David had always viewed her as a shallow, loud nuisance. He was a sophisticated corporate lawyer; she was a girl who taught Pilates. But as he stepped aside to let her into his foyer, the snobbery had violently shattered.
She stood on his expensive Persian rug, water dripping from her blonde hair, trailing down the long, elegant line of her neck and pooling in the deep valley of her cleavage. Her nipples were tightly beaded against the wet, sheer fabric of her bra.
David hadn’t moved to get the phone. He had just stared at her.
The heavy, suffocating silence in the foyer had stretched. Katherine had looked up, wrapping her arms tighter around her ribs, and caught the dark, hungry look in his eyes. Her breath had hitched. She hadn’t looked away. She hadn’t asked for the phone again.
“You’re freezing,” David had murmured, his voice dropping into a low, unrecognizable rasp. He had taken a slow, deliberate step toward her, crossing the invisible boundary of neighborly decency.
“I’m so cold, David,” Katherine had whispered, her dark eyes wide, her chest heaving as she stared up at the imposing man in the tailored suit.
“Sean isn’t here to warm you up,” David had stated, stating the illicit reality out loud. The sheer, primal arrogance of taking the beautiful, vibrant toy that belonged to the untouchable billionaire next door was a rush too potent to ignore.
“No,” she had breathed, her lips parting. “He isn’t.”
David hadn’t hesitated another second. He had lunged forward, grabbing her by the waist and slamming her back against the foyer wall. The wet, slapping sound of her bare skin against the plaster echoed in the hall. He had crushed his mouth to hers, swallowing her surprised gasp. She tasted like rain and absolute surrender. Her cold, wet hands had frantically tangled in his dry, perfectly styled hair, her tongue desperately meeting his.
It had been frantic. Animalistic. He hadn’t even taken her to a bedroom. He had reached between her soaked leggings, tearing the fabric down her thighs, entirely consumed by the forbidden thrill. She had wrapped her bare legs around his waist right there in the entryway, whimpering his name as he buried himself deep inside her wet, tight heat for the very first time.
But it was the memory of what happened two months later that truly haunted him, making his cock ache with a heavy, pulsing demand against the zipper of his slacks.
It was a Thursday evening. The paranoia of being caught had started to heavily outweigh the thrill. David had firmly decided he was going to end the affair. He was a married man, a senior partner in line for a massive promotion, and the risk was simply too high. He had texted Katherine to come over through the back patio doors, fully intending to look her in the eye, break it off, and recommit to his pristine wedding vows.
Katherine had walked into his kitchen wearing a pair of tiny, frayed denim shorts and a loose, sheer white top that slipped off one tanned shoulder.
“We need to stop, Kat,” David had said, standing rigid by the marble island, gripping the edge of the stone to keep himself from reaching for her. “This is getting reckless. I’m a married man. I have a wife I need to respect. This is over.”
Katherine hadn’t cried. She hadn’t argued or begged.
She had simply let out a low, wicked laugh, her eyes flashing with an entirely submissive, intoxicating challenge. She walked slowly across the kitchen, stepping directly into his personal space.
“Are you really going to stand there and tell me you don’t want this anymore?” Katherine had whispered, her voice dripping with pure seduction. She reached out, her manicured fingers boldly tracing the lapel of his expensive suit jacket. “You’re a liar, David.”
She had pressed her hot, pliable body flush against him. He could feel the soft, braless weight of her breasts pressing into his chest, the heat of her skin burning through his shirt.
His resolve had crumbled into dust in less than ten seconds.
With a guttural groan, David had grabbed her by the hips, lifting her completely off the floor. He swept a crystal vase off the kitchen island, the glass shattering violently on the hardwood floor, and slammed her down onto the cold, polished marble.
He had torn the sheer shirt from her shoulders, completely abandoning every single vow he had ever made to Rosália.
“Fuck,” David had hissed, burying his face in her neck, biting down on her collarbone as his hands aggressively tore at the button of her shorts. “You drive me absolutely insane.”
Katherine had arched her back, moaning loudly as he freed his heavy erection and thrust forward, burying himself to the hilt. The stark, breathtaking contrast of the freezing cold marble beneath her back and his burning hot skin pressing into her drove them both wild. The wet, heavy sound of their bodies slapping together echoed off the high kitchen ceilings.
But the kitchen island hadn’t been enough. The dark, twisted rush of the betrayal had completely taken over his mind.
While Katherine was still panting on the marble counter, her legs wrapped tight around his waist as he rolled his hips against her sensitive center, David had reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.
He had opened his messages, finding his wife’s name.
He had typed with one hand, his thumb slick with Katherine’s wetness, his breathing ragged as he continued to fuck his mistress.Meet me at L’Auberge for dinner at eight. I want to treat you.
