She told me how she played with her wet pussy for Eli on the phone and got soaked hearing him jack off in return, and my balls tightened, imagining how good she looked laid out and open, being dirty for my best friend.
The slap of skin echoed in the room, punctuated by her moans and my growls.
The creak of wood tempted us.
Her whimper when I whispered how good she felt on my cock pushed me on.
It didn’t take long.
Her body went tight around me, every muscle shaking as she came, biting my shoulder to keep from crying out. I followed right after, cursing, spilling into her with a growl that rumbled deep in my chest.
We stayed locked like that for a while, breathing hard, sweaty, spent.
Then I slowly set her down, tugging her jeans back into place and brushing her hair from her face as she smiled up at me like I’d just rearranged her entire nervous system.
“Next time,” she whispered, brushing her lips against mine, “I want you somewhere with a door that locks so I can make you beg me for mercy before, during and after.”
“Next time,” I said, pulling her in for a gentle kiss, “I won’t stop until your knees give out.”
She left a few minutes later—satisfied, flushed and walking with a slight limp.
And I went back to work with a hard-on for her laugh, a memory of her moans, and zero fucking regrets.
She thoughtI wouldn’t notice.
That she could fuck around with any man, let alone two of them, and I wouldn’t care.
But I noticed.
I always noticed.
It took nothing to get into her backyard. The gate latch was already busted. I didn’t even need gloves or a tool. I just slidit open, stepped through it, and took a slow walk around her pathetic little life.
The flowerpots were dead. The back porch light flickered. The kids left toys everywhere—like she couldn’t be bothered to keep shit clean.
I stood in the shadows for a long time, watching the sun go down behind her house and the light in her bedroom click on at nine.
She was alone. But she wouldn’t be for long. I could tell.
She was getting reckless.
Wearing her hair down, smiling like she had nothing to be afraid of, walking through town as people started talking about seeing her with one of them, and then the other. It was like she wanted people to see what kind of whore she’d become.
That was the part that pissed me off the most.
She looked happy.
Like she didn’t even feel guilty for what she’d done. For how she’d abandoned her place, forgetting where she came from. Forgetting who had already claimed her.
She was mine.
She’d always been mine.
And if she needed a reminder—well.
I’d leave one.
I didn’t go inside. Not yet.
