And before Sarah could speak, before her trembling lips could form another protest, Ross bent forward and captured her mouth in a kiss.
It wasn't gentle, nor was it savage—it was consuming.
His lips claimed hers fully, and though Sarah's hands pressed against his chest in a feeble attempt to resist, her body betrayed her once more.
Her lips parted, her breath mingled with his, and the heat of the kiss melted away her last fragile defenses.
Tears streamed down her cheeks as her heart waged a war her body had already lost.
***
"What is this?" A handsome man muttered, leaning closer to his laptop screen.
His brows knit in confusion as he studied the email that had slipped past his filters.
Normally, he deleted suspicious messages on sight, sending them to spam without a second thought.
But this one was different.
Something about it had hooked his attention immediately—something that made his chest tighten.
The sender's avatar was a photo. Not just any photo—her photo. His wife.
His lips parted slightly, the beginnings of unease crawling through him.
At first, he thought it must be some coincidence, a cruel joke, maybe even a scam using stolen images.
But his instincts told him otherwise. Against every rational thought screaming at him not to, he clicked the message open.
The body of the email was starkly empty. No greeting, no explanation, no threats or ransom demands.
Only two attached files sat there in silence, waiting. One was an image. The other was a video.
His pulse quickened. He hesitated for a long moment, his finger hovering over the mouse.
Then, unable to resist, he clicked the image first.
The screen filled with her face.
Sarah.
His wife's beauty shone even through the flat pixels of the screen.
Her delicate features, those soft lips he'd kissed countless times, the brightness in her eyes—she looked as radiant as ever.
Even now, even here, she was breathtaking. He found himself staring, remembering the first time he'd seen her, how his heart had nearly leapt out of his chest.
In his eyes, she had always been incomparable, able to rival the nation's top actresses in elegance and charm.
He lingered on that image, almost as if holding on to it could preserve the warmth swelling in his chest.
But no matter how hard he tried, his gaze kept drifting downward—to the second file. The video.
A cold dread settled in his gut.
His hand trembled faintly as he moved the cursor toward it.
Every instinct told him to close the laptop, delete the email, forget he had ever seen it.
And yet... curiosity gnawed at him like sharp teeth.
A voice whispered in the back of his mind.
If there's nothing, why are you so afraid?
He clicked.
The screen flickered as the video loaded.
A dark, blurry image appeared at first, the muffled sound of heavy breathing in the background.
He leaned forward unconsciously, eyes straining. His heart pounded, each beat louder than the last.
Then, clarity.
The scene sharpened, and in an instant, his entire world tilted on its axis.
His blood ran cold. His lips parted soundlessly.
His grip on the mouse tightened until his knuckles turned white.
On the screen, there was no denying it. It was Sarah. His wife.
And in that moment, as he saw what she was doing, with whom she was doing it, it felt as if his soul had been ripped straight out of his body, leaving him hollow, stunned, and suffocating.
"Ahhhhh..."
"Ohhhhh..."
"Ughhhhh..."
The handsome man sat frozen in front of his screen, his breath caught in his chest.
The sound struck him first.
Moans.
Not just any moans, but the unmistakable, beautiful, trembling cries of his wife.
Sarah's voice filled the room, soft at first, then rising into frantic, desperate whimpers of pleasure.
They were sounds he had never heard from her before—wild, unrestrained, shameless.
It was as though she had shed every inhibition, giving herself over completely.
His heart pounded, his throat dry.
He wanted to shut the laptop, to end the torment, but he couldn't tear his eyes away.
His hands trembled as he watched.
And then came the sight.
Sarah. His Sarah.
Her body glistened with sweat as she was pinned beneath a man every person in the world knew—Ross.
The larger-than-life figure admired, envied, and feared across nations was now fucking his wife with the same merciless dominance that had conquered everything else in his life.
Each thrust drove Sarah further into madness, her face twisted in ecstasy that the husband had never been able to bring out of her.
The husband's heart clenched. And then his gaze shifted downward.
He couldn't stop himself.
Ross's cock.
It was monstrous. Thick. Long. A weapon that stretched Sarah's delicate pussy far beyond what he had ever managed.
Every thrust forced her walls to clamp tightly, her body clinging to him as though she couldn't bear to let him go.
Compared to that, his own cock—average, modest—felt like nothing.
Shame crawled up his spine like fire ants.
The video shifted suddenly, cutting to a close-up, and his stomach churned violently.
The camera captured every obscene detail.
Ross's cock was shown plunging in and out of Sarah, her folds stretched to their absolute limit, glistening wet and shining with arousal.
Every time Ross withdrew, Sarah's pussy clung to him desperately, strings of slick juices refusing to let him go.
The husband's hands curled into fists, but he couldn't look away.
His heart screamed at him to stop watching, yet his eyes were glued to the screen, tortured by the undeniable truth in front of him.
"Rosssssss!"
Sarah's voice shattered him. She cried out her lover's name—loud, raw, filled with a passion he had never once heard directed at himself.
Her nails dug into Ross's shoulders, her entire body convulsing as she reached an orgasm so powerful she squirted helplessly all over Ross's cock.
Her juices sprayed across the screen in crystal clarity, soaking Ross as she shook violently in his arms.