Elena showed up at the condo around 8:15 p.m., red dress already on like she’d been waiting for the starting gun. The thing was shorter than I rembered—hem flirting with mid-thigh, neckline dipping low enough to make gravity work overti on those DD cups. No bra, obviously. Nipples were already poking through the silk like they were personally offended by fabric.
She kicked the door shut with her heel, dropped her purse, and looked up and down like I owed her money.
"You’re late," she said, even though I wasn’t.
"You’re early," I shot back, "and dressed like you’re trying to get arrested."
She laughed—that low, dirty laugh that always hit straight in the dick. "Mark thinks I’m at a ’book club’ that ends at 11. Plenty of ti to make scream loud enough he hears it from Marietta."
I poured two glasses of the sa red Rebecca had opened earlier. Handed her one. She took a sip, eyes never leaving mine.
"Business first," I said. "Then we celebrate."
She pouted—fake, theatrical. "You’re no fun."
"I’m tons of fun. Just not when I’m trying to build an empire."
We sat on the sectional. She curled her legs under her, dress riding up enough to show lace panties (red, matching, barely there). I pretended not to notice. Mostly.
"Rebecca texted after you left," Elena said. "Said the eting was ’productive.’ Also said you have ’nice forearms.’"
I snorted. "Forearms. That’s what she noticed?"
"Won notice forearms. And the way you roll your sleeves. It’s like catnip." She sipped wine. "She asked if you were seeing anyone. I told her you were ’very single and very busy.’"
The blue screen decided that was the mont to chi in.
[Netori Gaze Residual Effect: Target #2 (Rebecca) – Post-eting Arousal Carryover: 14%. She’s probably touching herself right now thinking about your "nice forearms." Pathetic.]
I blinked it away, fighting a grin. Shut up, you judgntal hologram.
Elena caught the flicker in my eyes. "What?"
"Nothing. Just... thinking about how Rebecca’s gonna sign those forms next week."
She smirked. "You an how she’s gonna sign them while imagining you bending her over the island?"
"Subtle."
"I’m not subtle tonight." She set her glass down. Crawled across the couch toward —slow, predatory. Dress slipping off one shoulder. "I’ve been wet since lunch thinking about this."
I let her straddle . Hands on her hips. Felt the heat through the thin fabric.
"Tell about your day," I said, voice low.
She rolled her eyes. "Boring. Yoga. Grocery store. Mark complaining about HOA dues again. I faked a headache so he’d leave alone." She ground down once—slow circle. "Then I locked myself in the bathroom and touched myself thinking about you fucking in their bed."
The screen popped again.
[Wife Breaker Lv.1 – Elena Addiction: 98%. She’s one good thrust away from tattooing your na on her ass. Romantic.]
I almost laughed out loud. Not helping, ghost daddy.
Elena noticed my smirk. "What’s so funny?"
"You. Being this horny on a Thursday."
She leaned in, lips brushing my ear. "You made this way. Now fix it."
I flipped her onto her back—easy, she was light when she wanted to be. Pinned her wrists above her head with one hand. The other slid up her thigh, under the dress, found lace soaked through.
"Jesus," I muttered. "You weren’t kidding."
"Been edging since 6 p.m.," she breathed. "Couldn’t finish. Needed you."
I rubbed slow circles over the lace. She arched, whimpering.
"Tell what you thought about."
"You... in Rebecca’s kitchen... while she’s pouring wine... bending her over the island... making her moan your na while Paul’s on the 9th hole..."
The screen flashed.
[Libido Spike: 96 → 97. Your cuckold fantasies are giving second-hand embarrassnt. Keep going.]
I rolled my eyes internally. Fuck off.
I pushed the lace aside. Two fingers slid in—hot, tight, dripping. She gasped, hips bucking.
"More," she begged.
I added a third. Curled them. Found that spot. Pumped slow.
She moaned—loud, unashad. "Yes—fuck—right there—"
I sped up. Thumb on her clit. Circles matching my thrusts.
She ca fast—sudden, violent. Whole body shaking, pussy clamping around my fingers, squirting onto the couch cushion. She scread my na—full volu, no sha.
I didn’t stop. Kept stroking through it until she was whining, oversensitive.
Then I pulled my fingers out. Brought them to her lips.
"Taste how wet I make you."
She sucked them clean—eyes locked on mine, tongue swirling like she was starving.
I stood. Stripped slow—shirt off, pants down, cock springing free. Thick, hard, leaking.
Elena licked her lips. "God. I forgot how big."
I climbed back over her. Pushed the dress up to her waist. No foreplay now. Lined up. Slamd in—one hard thrust.
She scread again—pleasure-pain. Nails raked my back.
"Fuck—yes—so deep—"
I started pounding. Hard. Relentless. Couch creaking under us. Her tits bouncing free of the dress top—I grabbed one, squeezed, twisted the nipple until she whimpered.
"Tell who owns this pussy."
"You—you do—Mark could never—"
I spanked her thigh—sharp crack.
"Louder."
"You own it! Mark’s tiny dick is nothing—never fills —never makes co like this—"
I flipped her onto all fours. Ass up. Spanked again—harder. Red handprint blooming on tan skin.
"Beg."
"Please—fuck harder—breed —fill so I go ho leaking you—"
I gripped her hips. Pounded deeper. Balls slapping her clit. Wet, obscene sounds filling the room.
She ca again—sudden, squirting onto the leather, voice breaking into sobs of pleasure.
I didn’t stop. Pulled her hair back. Fucked through her orgasm.
"Again."
She laughed—breathless, wrecked. "You’re trying to kill —"
"Trying to ruin you."
She reached back, rubbed her clit furiously while I railed her.
Third orgasm hit like a freight train. Body convulsing, pussy milking , squirting so hard it splashed my thighs.
I groaned. Balls tightening.
"Where?"
"Inside—please—breed —make carry your baby—Mark can raise it—"
I buried deep. Ca hard—thick ropes flooding her. Pulse after pulse. She clenched, milking every drop, whimpering my na like a prayer.
We collapsed—sweaty, tangled, breathing ragged.
She laughed softly against my neck. "I think the neighbors heard that."
"Good."
The screen popped one last ti—faint, almost smug.
[Mission Progress: First Business Conquest – 28%. Elena Addiction: 99%. Congrats, stud. You just fucked a married woman so hard she forgot her own zip code. Try not to get cocky.]
Cash Deposit: $8,000 (post-coital bonus). Because apparently screaming orgasms are profitable now. You’re welco.]
I blinked it away, smirking into her hair.
Yeah. You’re welco too, asshole.
Elena curled tighter against . "Round two in the shower?"
I kissed her forehead. "Give five minutes. My dick’s not a machine."
She giggled. "Could’ve fooled ."
We stayed like that—sweaty, satisfied, laughing quietly while the city lights glittered outside.
Tomorrow I’d draft forms for Rebecca.
Tomorrow I’d plan how to plant the first real evidence in Elena’s house.
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