Rebecca’s Monday night left marks—literal and figurative. I woke up in her guest room Tuesday morning with a hickey on my collarbone and her citrus scent still clinging to my skin. Paul’s golf clubs in the corner stared at like silent witnesses. I slipped out before he got back, drove ho with the windows down, feeling like I’d just robbed a bank and gotten away clean.
The system had opinions, of course.
[Rebecca Voss – Loyalty Shift: 52% → 57%. She’s already googling "discreet divorce attorneys." You’re moving up in the world, howrecker.]
[Cash Deposit: $18,000 (post-fuck compounding interest). Keep this up and you’ll own half of Cobb County by Christmas.]
I smirked into the rearview mirror. Keep talking shit, blue. I’m listening.
Back at the condo I showered off the evidence, jerked off quick in the steam—replaying Rebecca’s moans, her begging to be filled while Paul’s frad wedding photo sat on the nightstand. Ca hard against the tile. Felt cleansed.
Mid-morning: office. Tyler was there with coffee and gossip.
"Priya Patel confird for Thursday," he said. "She sounded excited. Also, your friend Nadia called the office line. Said it’s ’personal.’ Want to patch her through next ti?"
I froze for half a second. Nadia. The engaged graphic designer who’d ridden like her life depended on it for three straight nights.
"Yeah," I said casually. "Put her through whenever."
Tyler raised an eyebrow but didn’t push.
Lunch: solo at the ran spot again. Phone buzzed while I was halfway through tonkotsu.
Nadia: Hey... can we talk?
Nadia: Not just fuck. I an... I need to see you. Tonight?
The system pinged.
[Nadia – Loyalty Shift: 58% → 64%. Guilt craving cocktail. She’s spiraling. Proceed with caution or proceed with cock. Your call, stud.]
I typed back.
: My place. 8 p.m. Bring nothing but the truth... and that black dress.
Nadia: I’ll be there. Ethan’s working late. He thinks I’m at a client eting.
I finished my ran slower than usual, savoring the anticipation.
Evening: condo. I cleaned up, lit a couple candles (not romantic—strategic mood lighting), poured wine, waited.
She arrived at 7:58. Black dress again—sa one from the bar night, but now it felt like a uniform of surrender. No bra, no panties, hair down, eyes red-rimd like she’d been crying or fighting herself.
She stepped inside. Door shut. She didn’t speak at first—just walked straight to , buried her face in my chest, arms tight around my waist.
"I’m sorry," she whispered. "I shouldn’t have texted. I have a fiancé. I’m getting married in October. This is wrong."
I let her cling. Hand on her back. "You’re here anyway."
She pulled back. Eyes wet but fierce. "Because I can’t stop thinking about you. Every ti Ethan touches I picture you. I fake it with him now. I feel like a monster."
The screen flickered.
[Nadia – Addiction: 68%. Guilt level: critical. She’s one good fuck away from canceling the wedding. Or at least postponing it. Again.]
I cupped her face. "You’re not a monster. You’re just... honest with what you want."
She laughed—bitter, broken. "I want you to fuck until I forget his na."
I kissed her then—slow, deep, claiming. She lted into it. Hands clawing at my shirt.
We didn’t make it to the bedroom at first. Couch again. Dress hiked up. Her on top, grinding against my bulge while we kissed like teenagers.
"Tell about him," I said between kisses.
She hesitated. "Ethan’s... nice. Sweet. Stable. Plans everything. Proposed on a beach at sunset. Everyone says we’re perfect."
I slid a hand under her dress. Found her soaked. Circled her clit slow.
"But?"
"But he’s... small. Gentle. Finishes quick. Never makes co like you do." She rocked against my fingers. "I love him. I think. But I need this."
I pushed two fingers inside. She moaned—loud, needy.
"Need what?"
"You. Owning . Ruining ."
I flipped her onto her back. Pushed the dress up. Ate her slow—tongue on clit, fingers curling, thumb teasing her ass. She ca fast—shaking, squirting, whispering "David—fuck—yes—"
I stood. Stripped. Cock out. She pulled down. Guided in.
Slow at first—deep, grinding thrusts. She wrapped legs around . Nails in my back.
"Fuck—yes—so much better—so deep—"
I sped up. Pounded. Couch creaking. Her tits bouncing. I sucked one nipple, bit gently.
"Tell you’re mine."
"I’m yours—fuck—yours—not his—never his again—"
She ca again—clenching, screaming, squirting on the leather.
I didn’t stop. Flipped her onto all fours. Slamd in from behind. Spanked. Pulled hair.
"Beg for it."
"Please—fill —breed —make yours forever—"
I buried deep. Ca hard—thick ropes flooding her. She milked , whimpering, coming one more ti just from being filled.
We collapsed—sweaty, tangled.
She curled against . "I don’t know what I’m going to do."
I kissed her forehead. "You’ll figure it out."
The system popped—quiet, almost gentle.
[Nadia – Loyalty Shift: 64% → 72%. Wedding date now listed as "tentative." She’s one more night away from eloping with you instead. Or at least fucking you in the bridal suite.]
Cash Deposit: $9,000. "Fiancée Corruption Bonus." Keep ruining lives, legend.]
I smirked into her hair.
October wedding.
I’d be there.
And she’d be mine.
Before the vows.
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