Chapter One 

“Mmm,” Sheila murmurs as morning sunlight filters through slatted blinds.

It’s a quiet sound. While snuggled against the ravenous beast on his bed, she’s careful not to awaken him. Her insides are sore. At the rhythmic, forceful heartbeat and solid warm frame beneath her head, a grin slips onto her sleepy face. Even in slumber, he exudes such power. With another murmur, she hugs her naked body tighter to his massive rib cage. As always, that raw, primal masculinity sends ripples through her core. Thick and vein-wrapped, the still-tacky tube of pure man pulses within her slow gliding fingers.

With a soft whimper, like an ever-hungering moth, she’s drawn to its thumping, fat-tipped flame, and curls downwards. Behind her, honey blonde hair spreads in a shiny curtain as her cheek skims his rippling hard abs. With the hefty rod in one fist, she lifts the magnificent knob to her opening mouth. As its sleek skin slips over her tongue and forces her lips wide, a sigh eases from her flaring nostrils.

No matter what the world thinks, this is right. Utter calm swirls around her. When the smooth, warm flesh swells with her first gentle suckle, she presses a hand on his beating heart. At that, the stiffening cock in her mouth engorges; he also understands. Well, of course he does. 

He is his father’s son.

*****

Ever since his conception, she’d known he’d be no good for her. No, that’s too harsh. Back then, life was so confusing. Everything had become hurried. Soon after marrying reliable Stanley, kind and sweet in his own right, they’d been rushing to leave for his new job on the coast. Her world, merging with his, was roaring into the fast lane.

The other women from the office had invited her out. One final blowout for old times’ sake. Ladies’ Night at “Slappin’ Jacks,” a popular bar out by the interstate.

“I’ve got this. We’re almost finished. I’ll pack the last of the boxes,” he’d said from among towering brown cardboard stacks. “Go on. Have fun, sweetie.” 

And she’d had done just that. As expected, Jacks was mobbed. Raucous laughter, loud voices, and the clinking of glasses filled the dim interior. It wasn’t long before the night was a blurry haze of loud drinking, ever dirtier jokes, and swapping slurred fantasies.

When a fat joint appeared before her lips, she sucked deep, mesmerized by its flaring orange tip. Good quality marijuana, its mellowness seeped into her soul. Although they snuck hits, nobody seemed to care about them smoking inside. Besides, judging by the cloud filling the room, they weren’t alone. It was one of those kinds of places.

Another friend had passed her crushed little yellow pills. Likewise, the only reaction was the waitress, a cute brunette, asking if they minded before dipping to partake. She wobbled away, grinning. Sloppy smiles on their faces, the women at the table continued to share. Okay, better to say over-share when it came to lurid stories. Soon everyone was a giggling mixture of mellow and wild.

Amid the haze, as they’d danced as a group, Sheila had even let a cute younger guy cut in and share a joint. Such a pleasant smile was matched by playful hands. Entranced, she’d pressed into him as his fingers meandered the short black party dress.

His name was Sven and based on the flirty hem crumpled in his palms over her round rear, he was quite the butt man. As they swayed along the dance floor, his exquisite, always-moving digits were massaging her into a moaning wreck. Just as she was wobbling in his grip, trusty Inga, a black-haired girl from accounting, dodged in to rescue her. 

“Woah there, Sheila.” She’d giggled after tugging her back towards their table. “Save it, baby. Stan the Man’s gonna get some tonight, huh?”

“Oh, yeah,” had slipped from her as she slid into the booth. As she leaned to sip the remnants of a pink margarita, the warmth within her started to sputter.

But then _he_ appeared. 

While no trumpets sounded, in a swirl of smearing blurs, the world changed. Swarthy with perfect, thick, shiny black hair, a muscled giant in a dark suit strode into her world. An air of success flowed around him. From snippets of conversation, he sold medical appliances. Complex. Expensive, but he had a gift. Brash—no, confident—he closed all the deals.

Dear God, piercing did not come close to describing the silver-blue lasers that tracked her from across the room. With the rugged face of an angel, he towered over the crowd. At least that was the effect; everyone else blurred into that swirling haze. With a roar that had the room wobbling, raw heat flared within her. At the slight grin he sent her way, she trembled.

Drunk and high or not, her friends also noticed him. It was obvious he’d selected her for his attention. While locked on him, she managed to lift Inga’s martini to her trembling lips. Forgotten was their attempt to protect her from the likes of wandering-hands Sven. Nope, more booze, and another round of tokes had done its damage. Instead, they were soon giggling and pointing from behind half-empty martini glasses.

“Oh, damn, Sheila,” Denise, also from accounting, with a platinum blonde bob cut, whistled under her breath. “Check out that stud.”

“Damn it!” Carrie, a cute, forever-single redhead, muttered in a voice tinged with jealousy. “Why you again? He’s eyeball-fucking the shit outta you, girl.”

“Go on,” even added Inga, who’d saved her from Sven. While grinning, she held a fresh, fatter blunt to Sheila’s lips. “One more for the road. What’s the harm? Dance with him.”

“Yeah, you’re leaving. Have fun, Sheila,” whispered Denise, before shoving her from the booth with a chuckle. “One last night. No harm.”

After a few quick, if wobbly, steps, aromatic smoke eased from her flaring nostrils as she swayed in enormous, corded arms. With her gaze locked on those twinkling pools, they’d danced. In the shadow of his tall frame, the universe faded. At the tight press of his hard body, she’d pressed tighter. The stiffening in his trousers sent heat skittering deep inside her. For a split second, she broke the spell to seek her friends. 

Oh, she found them. Except they were all smiling at her. Lost in a deeper haze, no panicky Inga dashed to her rescue.

Not long afterwards, full, warm lips tapped hers and anyone else but him disappeared. When a whimper escaped her to flood their mouths, his eyes flared. After being dragged across the bar’s wavering floor, she found herself in the backseat of his car. Glossy, burled wood trim. Shiny gold striping. Plush cream leather. Smelled new.

Mixed with his subtle musk were the refined aromas of rich leather, aromatic sandalwood and a dark forest, full of… No, it wasn’t her finest moment. Plus, in truth, nor had it been her goal. Nevertheless, there she was—enthralled.

As their kissing continued, his azure pools blazed. When he shifted and murmured something into her neck, she’d moaned and rolled her head backward to stare at the frosted car ceiling. Even as he drove her to the seat cushions, her hands were roaming his expansive back. However, when his fingers latched on the hem of her dress, she froze. 

A sudden chilly surge flooded her.

“No,” left her shaking lips as her tongue skimmed his soft mouth. 

Of course, he didn’t listen. He closed all the deals. Then again, part of her—the darkest part that enjoyed wandering gloomy woods—was happy that swatting at his arms was like striking steel beams. After peeling the thin black material over her head, he dropped it onto a floor mat. As widespread steely fingers found her heaving ribs, pushing on the cutting bra straps, his mouth was waiting when she complained once more. At the sudden plunging of a thick muscular tongue, her last feeble resistance crumbled. 

With a hungry moan so powerful it shocked her, she thrust her twisting body into him. As her nails clawed the back of his dark suit jacket, his eyes twinkled. When his fingers found the bra’s clasp, she shifted. No sooner had he unsnapped the straining lace than she tugged it free.

While his massive palms roamed her firm, up-thrusting globes, more hungry moans tore from her. He was driving flares of electrified heat through her entire body. At the forceful nudging of her aching nipples, the world stuttered. When at last his hands drifted to her hips, she heaved them upwards. After his swift yank on the soaked lace, cool night air flooded her as she flung her trembling legs wide. 

The shadowy colossus said nothing. She couldn’t speak as they kissed. Oh, she could have torn her mouth away to scream. A better woman would have. One far less needy. It was wrong. Everything happening in that car. Should only have danced. But… God, this powerful man would be her final… Before the rest of her life as Mrs. Sheila Henderson. So damn respectable. In a swirl those thoughts wandered her booze and weed addled mind. Once more, not a high point. Not at all. Then again, those stunning eyes kept her just as pinned as his enormous, suit-wrapped, muscled frame. 

Naked beneath him, she’d braced. He’d take her. Whether any last piece of her—powered by frayed morality—wanted to flee or not. 

Except he hadn’t. 

Instead, those blue pools sparkled with mischief. He toyed with her, running his lips, swirling tongue, and those enormous squeezing, skimming paws over every squirming inch of her desperate body. Oh, a virtuoso at work, he was revving her higher and higher as her nails clawed at the rear of his suit jacket. Soon, with his fingers tugging and twisting achy tight nipples, her ceaseless groans intensified. Air hissed from her when he lowered his massive square jaw between her scrambling legs. 

The scratch of stubble. Hot, pulsing breath. A soft lick. Far too short, barely a tickle. 

Stanley would never do that. Thought it was dirty. She peed from _there_.

The twinkling-eyed, drop-dead gorgeous man had no such issues. 

He didn’t eat her like an old boyfriend had done—gentle and slow. No, she was the ravenous salesman’s delectable meal, and he devoured her. Wondrous eyes sparkling, he propelled his tongue through and around her ever sloppier need. With only the shortest pauses to tease her painfully hard clit with its meaty tip, he continued driving her right to the very edge of release. The pleasure within her intensified, then redoubled. She teetered on the precipice of madness. At first the car windows fogged, but soon they were dripping with condensation from her racing, heated breaths. 

Over and over, that wondrous muscle licked her to the very brink of nirvana. Each time, she’d beg, but he’d back off. Only once did she try to relieve herself. With a growl, his paws clamped her hands, slapping them onto the seat. One glimpse of his steel-eyed glare and she kept them there. With her nails clawing at the supple leather, his hands returned to her writhing chest. He recommenced the languid washing of her dripping petals and gentle squeezes of her achy tits.

At long last, he lifted his shiny face and smiled. Her heartbeat was a rapid, rib-battering thunder. Not the distant rumbling of some quaint storm. Nope, the thunder of a full-fledged, horizon-eating Southern tempest. Through her heavy panting, she tried to catch his soft words. They sounded nice. Sweet, even. As he rose, swallowing her in his shadow, an intense need erupted deep inside her. 

With a growl of her own, she darted her fingers to his zipper. As frazzled as she was, they shouldn’t have done anything of the sort. Except while dancing earlier, her curves had pushed against the impressive stiffening flesh within those straining trousers. Right or wrong, curiosity flooded her. When a hefty warmth thumped into her shaky palms, she could only stare. 

“Oh, my God,” she’d whispered as a powerful heartbeat filled her fists.

It was the stuff of dirty movies. A fleshy battering ram, designed for one thing. Deeper inside her than ever before, a needy fluttering began. She gulped. No human could bear such an implement. How did his heart fill such an impressive appendage without him fainting? Then again, he was a giant. 

When he guided the massive bulb between her trembling thighs, she huffed. Her mind was awhirl. Should she? _Could_ she? And at the soft scratching as her widening legs shoved the heels of her shoes along the car seat, Sheila’s pulse spiked. 

“No,” she’d murmured feebly as it pushed into her. All that intense pleasure ratcheted higher as the giant bored her gate wider. Still confused, her brain slithered to a halt as Sheila’s quivering fingers found his black silk-clad hips.

As she tugged on him, the world became that gigantic thumping mass, forcing apart more of her tightness. Nothing else mattered, and she forgot everything. She shouldn’t have. Sure, she was drunk. Plus, more than a little high. Also, in the exact wrong spot at the wrong time. No matter, it was unforgivable. No excuse. She was married. No good would ever come from what was happening. What she was allowing to happen. 

All that logic? It meant zero as unparalleled need forced her heels to scrape louder on the expensive foreign car’s fancy interior. No protests, only stammering sighs, left her as the man’s mighty pulse worked its way deeper into her than she’d thought possible. 

Oh, and her brain stopped working when the scream unfurled from her shaking mouth. Not for help. No. With that massive telephone pole stretching every nerve ending, the first enormous wave of pleasure ignited. It startled her, and she thrust her open lips to his, unleashing a primal cry into his thrusting tongue. Bless him, he sawed that mighty log back and forth, slurping more waves free as she flooded their mouths with muffled cries. 

Only once she slowed, settling to the warm, sticky leather did he lift from her mouth. Panting like a struggling train and trying to find those lasers in the haze, she spotted his grin. It widened. When she found his eyes, they were ablaze. 

It was his turn. His iron grip snatched her legs to that broad, solid silk-wrapped chest.

“Oh, fuck!” were the last words to leave her. 

The sawing ended. 

The pounding began. 

With the seat squeaking beneath her battered frame, the car’s shocks creaked ever louder. Bent double as she was, her insides were even tighter alongside the ravaging fleshy pile driver. After pinning her arms tight to her ribs, he’d laughed. 

The laughter of triumph. Closing the deal.

Then he’d truly fucked her. Into madness. Beyond madness.

From somewhere deep in her frazzling soul, more and more screams, ever hoarser, erupted from her. In that muggy car, the universe smeared. Colors sang. Time went backwards. As if there’d been any question, she became his willing vessel. Under the primal assault, she bounced, slapping between the tacky, heated leather and the silken jacket on his solid chest. 

When at last he’d shoved deep, plunging that massive domed bolt into the very top of her canal, she’d frozen. Mouth wide and trembling, no sound left her. Brain melted; she could only discern those silver-blue lasers. When endless jets of incredibly thick warmth flooded her, she handed him her soul on a soft velvet pillow.

She was still panting up into his smile when his arm moved. After snatching her clothes from the mat, he shoved open the door. As her dress and undies fluttered out into the darkness, she moaned. A yelp left her when he gripped her wrist to drag her out onto the dark asphalt parking lot. 

Muted by the blood roaring in her head, music from the crowded bar battered her heaving chest. With goosebumps erupting across her sweat-slick skin, his laughter pierced the haze. It wasn’t a cruel sound. No, only amusement. After zipping his magnificent beast away, he clambered into the car and sped off into the darkness.

Gone from her life in a blink, he was but a phantom in her battered mind. While staggering in the night, she scanned the dark lot. Nobody had spotted her. Had that really happened? A trickle of warmth slithered down a leg. It had. Who was he? She hadn’t even gotten a name. 

And if not rape, what was that? If it had been with her consent, shaky or not, did that count?

Ashamed? No. Humiliated? Again, no. Her insides wouldn’t stop shaking. The simple truth—she’d been used. However, in all her years, no man had driven her so far up the mist-shrouded heights of mind-shattering passion. Pure lust had overwhelmed her. A thundering heartbeat continued jiggling her naked tits. So, it still was.

Only then did an icy chill cut through the excuses. As it dampened the heat scorching her core, she gasped.  

“Oh, God!” she wailed hoarsely while gathering her clothes from the dark, icy asphalt. “What’s Stanley gonna say? And shit. The girls?”

After awkwardly dropping the dress over her—she skipped the bra—Sheila stared at the building. Her friends were probably still inside, waiting for a sordid, breathless tale of necking with the handsome hunk.

“They’ve got no fucking clue,” she murmured, then groaned as an aftershock battered her.

Pulse racing, she yanked the phone from her purse. It trembled in her hands for a million years. All the excuses returned. Okay, a slither of shame arrived. Guilt as well. At long last, instead of calling her husband, she wadded her panties in a shaky fist. While leaning on a chilly car hood, she’d daubed at the tickling fluids on her thighs and called a cab.

Nope, not the finest evening of her life. Then again.

said later, while rocking the little bundle swaddled in soft navy and white stripes. 

Again, the internal debate raged. The same one that’d been battering her since she first realized a baby grew within her. So many times, she’d been on the verge of telling him.

“Oh, Uncle Amos.” She flashed him a taut grin. “He was big like that, according to mom. Similar eyes, I think.”

Made up on the spot, the lie had slipped from her with ease. Too much ease and her pulse staggered.

Was it right? No. Another low point, but she chewed her lips and remained silent.

Besides, what could she say? What had actually happened, anyway? Over and over, the fading memories tumbled. Had that one night—less than an hour—even been a rape? While she hadn’t asked for it, neither had she stopped it. 

Plus, another secret lurked; not every image from that night had faded. The dark stranger became her favorite fantasy while enjoying personal time. With the aromas of new car leather and male musk flooding her mind, searing flames would roar deep within her. Some nights, when Stanley was away on business, she’d drive herself into a screaming frenzy in the tub. Amidst scented candles and soft jazz, frothy water would slosh across the tile floor as she shuddered.

Nope, not a rape. 

No, but what had happened had ruined her for any other man. Oh, once home from the bar—and the backseat—she’d almost confessed. Almost. Instead, after tossing the dress close enough to the laundry hamper, she leaped into the shower. After scouring herself, Sheila had ridden her wide-eyed husband like a crazed banshee. He’d been left panting and moaning as his seed drained from her. 

Soon enough she became Mrs. Sheila Henderson, respectable minus one little flaw, and life marched onwards. His job became busier. She grew larger and rounder—everywhere. For a while, she’d even convinced herself it was his child she was carrying. Well, part of her had hoped. For nine months, as she clung to that falsehood, everything had been fine.

But there he was, evidence of that night so long ago, in her husband’s swaying arms.

Amid the swirl of madness tugging at her, she peeked into the hale, thick-limbed baby’s shining eyes. The strangest sensation slithered through her. Alongside the expected deep maternal link, a twinge appeared. It faded almost as quickly when she glanced at Stanley. Expression one of wonder, and smile locked on the baby, he was in heaven. The unusual sensation dulled until it was nothing but a sliver oozing into the darkest niche of her mind. At last, she’d cleared her throat. 

“What should we call him, dear?” she asked as he caressed the tiny cheek with a fingertip.

“Donal,” he murmured while gazing into the baby’s bright eyes.

“_Donal_?”

“Yes, it’s old English.” He chuckled as the baby pressed into his finger. “Means ‘ruler of the world.’”

As her pulse raced, she nodded. Back then, if she’d only realized, would she have protested? No. If anything, the future proved that the name fit him.

A year later, his younger brother was born. Edward was the spitting image of Stanley. With a wave of relief sweeping over her, she’d exhaled as he’d been placed into her arms that first time. Frailer, but with the intelligent gaze of his father, their youngest watched everyone. Saw everything.

After her husband’s continued success, it wasn’t long before they left their cramped apartment for a house in the suburbs. On a quiet, tree-lined cul-de-sac in a good school district, the spacious two-story home featured an expansive manicured lawn and tall, leafy oaks. Lined by a tall hedge, not only did the backyard sport an outdoor pool, which made her nervous for the boys, it also housed a pergola-covered hot tub. Whenever Stanley had them, it became her pulsing, tropical island of jet-pummeled sanity.

With time marching onward, she’d plugged into the local mommy scene and her life eased into normalcy. Rather than return to work, she stayed at home raising the children. Her world revolved around play dates, birthday parties, holiday get-togethers, and the odd barbecue.

Somehow, she managed to stay fit. At first walking, then jogging as she pushed the double-stroller. The pool also helped, and she swam endless laps. From his glances, her husband admired the effort. That placed a self-satisfied grin on her face. As did the occasional appreciative looks from others.

But after that fateful night, she stayed true. Whenever possible, she and Stanley carved time for each other, sneaking quick tumbles into the sheets. The hurried love-making wasn’t perfect, not that it had ever been. While the intimacy was comforting, he never lasted long, and she rarely got satisfaction. However, every once in a while, they’d manage a slower, more playful snuggling while the boys were distracted or asleep. It was never more than a slow rubbing that provided a few muted tremors. Although she’d occasionally take him into her mouth, he still wouldn’t reciprocate.

The fantasies, though faded, filled the gap. With little else to complain about, she smiled more often. Life meandered onwards. Like weeds, the brothers were shooting skywards almost daily.

Smart as a whip, Edward had become even more contemplative. Much quieter, Donal leaned on his younger brother’s knowledge. Also, incisive from an early age, the elder boy had an eerie understanding of others. Borderline manipulative, he convinced many a babysitter to let them stay up late. Not to mention, he convinced teachers to let him or his little brother have extra chances at tests or gain more time to complete homework. 

Despite bulking up and growing ever taller, Donal also had a mysterious ability to hide in plain sight. How could he move so swiftly and yet so silently for his size? One second, she stood in a room alone, the next he was beside her. Innocent enough, he’d simply play or smile up at her. 

As the boys aged and her idyllic life continued, the images of that fateful night’s primal encounter faded. But never disappeared. Sometimes she caught Donal’s sidelong glances. Those eyes, so like his father’s, sent shivers along her spine. While still dormant, the sliver in the dark recesses of her brain could occasionally send her pulse staggering.  

When older, he and Edward often traded whispers. Inseparable, the pair were also unstoppable. At school, kids would sometimes pick on bookish, quiet Edward. However, not for long. While Sheila never heard of Donal doing anything, the bullying would cease. Always.

Of the two, Donal was closest to her. Even as a child, he was protective of his mom as well as his brother. Once older, he became a bit too playful at times, especially as he staggered into the hormonal teen years. Not aware of his bulk, or ignoring it, he’d often tower over her. Plus, of course, Edward was inevitably nearby, watching.

Although reluctant at first, Donal, with his size and speed, answered the pleas of the high school football coach. In no time, he became a star middle linebacker. An uncanny ability to simply be in the way ended many opposing plays. His talents ensured he made the varsity squad early. Adding to his on-field dominance, once eighteen, he was even bulkier.

Stanley’s career continued to skyrocket. Once he’d been promoted to senior software developer, his hours grew longer. Plus, he traveled across the country to other company locations. Which meant it was often only she and Edward shivering in the stands at Donal’s games.

At one of them, the first clue of what lay ahead appeared.

“Ruler of the world,” she muttered one evening as he dominated the field once again. At a quiet snort from beside her, she turned.

“Sheila, damn. Your boy,” said Cathy Lindstrom from beneath tightened brows. Which was odd; she was usually as bubbly as her daughter, Sherry, a cute blonde cheerleader. “Handsome as heck and impressive, but so frustrating,”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s Sherry.” Cathy leaned closer and whispered, “She’s been asking him out for over a month now.”

“Oh. Well, perhaps he’s, um, busy.” After a quick shrug, she glanced at Edward. His gaze was fixed on the game. “Or shy?”

“Shy? Him?” Right as she spoke, Donal flattened the running back once more. She scoffed. “Nah, can’t see that.”

“He’s been occupied with football and schoolwork.” Again, she shrugged. “Plus, Donal’s thinking of taking a part-time job at Greeley’s Hardware. Or, sorry, maybe he’s not interested in her.”

“Perhaps, but she’s not the only one, Sheila. Your young buck has half the school chasing him.” She smacked her lips and looked around before adding, “They all know your son’s been kinda watching them. Nothing creepy, but he’s clearly into girls. So, what’s the deal?”

“Dunno.” She tilted her head while Donal marched from the field amid the other defenders. “Guess I could ask him.”

On the ride home, her boys were busy dissecting the game. As such, it wasn’t until she was kissing him goodnight that she had the opportunity.

In a terry-cloth robe, she sat on the side of his bed. Her fingertips played in his thick tresses, still a little wet and smelling of shampoo. Damp from her own shower, her hair—she’d eschewed the mommy bob cut and kept it long—was wrapped in a towel.

“Um, one of the moms asked me a weird question today.”

“About what?” In the darkened room, his eyes twinkled up at her.

“Girls.” She smiled and lifted her hand away. 

“Oh,” is all he said.

“Apparently, you’re being pursued by half the high school.”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “Guess so.”

“Aren’t you interested in any of them?”

“No.” As he shook his head, the solid cords of his neck twisted.

“Any reason?”

“Yes.” He added nothing more.

“Not gonna tell me, huh?”

“Not yet, mom.” His brilliant smile, so like his father’s, sent a tremor along her spine. At the gentle slide of his thick fingers along her forearm, she shivered. “It’s, um, not bad, though. At least I don’t think so.”

“You, uh, don’t think so?” she repeated.

“No,” he murmured while tugging on her arm. 

At first, pulse soaring, she resisted. But he strengthened his grip and her hand moved once more. When he pulled her twitching fingers downwards, her breathing hitched. 

“What are you doing?” flew from her in a shaky whisper. 

“Are you naked under the robe, mommy?”

Two things. One, the utter calmness in his question. And two, he hadn’t called her “mommy” in years. The room began a rapid spinning.

“That’s not—”

Her voice ended with a groan when he dragged her fingernails over the enormous bulge in the blanket. The entire world wobbled in time with the powerful pulse battering her fingertips. 

Just as his other hand headed for the belt of her robe, she gasped. With a swift tug, she yanked herself free of his loosening fingers. As she staggered backwards towards the door, his laughter erupted. 

That laughter. So familiar.

All its windows fogged, the dark car interior. The scent of luxurious new leather, coated in sweat and sex, and _him_ flooded her brain. Again, after so many years, that heat roared to life within her. Although Donal’s eyes were shadowed, she knew they blazed. Silver-blue lasers.

Stiff nipples aching under the terry cloth, she fled to her bedroom. After tearing the robe from her shaking body, she dived under the covers.

Of course, sleep wouldn’t come. Instead, she tossed and turned. Long-buried memories, far more detailed than had been powering her tub escapades, shimmered back to life. The scratching of her pumps on that wide seat. The sticky leather beneath her arching back. That pungent man scent. Aromas. Dark forests and sandalwood. Musky sweat as his weight pinned her. Ever louder creaking and groaning of the suspension as he’d… The massive flooding so deep inside her. 

Once Stanley made it home and slipped into the sheets, she was astride him in seconds. With her lips mashed to his, she crammed his shaft inside. As he grunted in surprise, she rode her husband like a wild woman. 

Because she was exactly that. Insane. Primal. And terrified. Long dormant, the sliver had awakened, unfurling to electrify her mind.

“You okay?” he murmured after squirting into her. As she trembled, his delicate hands roamed her bare spine. 

“Now, yes,” she answered with a smile. 

But it was a lie. 

Because although she shuddered when a quiet aftershock slithered through her, her brain whipped back to that heartbeat under her hand earlier. The taut stems atop her tits remained achy. Deep within her core, far deeper than Stanley could reach, a forceful fluttering would _not_ stop. It wouldn’t even slow.

So close, once more. Just down the hall. Where the swarthy man’s majestic spawn lay sleeping. Son of the man who still plowed her into madness in her fantasies.

Just as he did again, with her tossing and turning beside her snoring husband.