Serene got up quickly, but the shadow in the hallway had already slipped away. Her skin prickled as if the air itself still held the stranger.
Who had seen her?
Nobody should ever see her like that; she was panting, dripping, fingers buried in her pussy.
She crawled into bed and forced her eyes shut, though her pulse throbbed throughout the night.
The next morning, she couldn't stop studying Cassandra's face, searching for a clue. A smirk or knowing look. Anything to give her away.
"Do you usually stay here alone when your husband travels?" Serene asked carefully.
Cassandra tilted her head, eyes sharp. "Who did you see?"
For a moment, panic flashed across her face before she smoothed it away.
Serene swallowed her curiosity.
That day they shopped, laughed, and splashed in the pool. For the first time in weeks, Serene felt free. No, Lucien. No nightly pounding she couldn't refuse. She had space to breathe.
But her body betrayed her. Every ripple of water across her skin dragged her mind back to last night, her guilt clashing with raw, dangerous pleasure.
As they changed out of swimsuits, Cassandra's eyes lingered. "Nice boobs," she teased.
Serene flushed. Her gaze flickered down to Cassandra's breasts. It was round, full, and heavy. Heat pooled in her belly.
"What am I thinking?" she scolded herself. "I need to pray. I need church."
Later, inside the pool, Serene whispered the confession before she could stop herself. "I touched myself last night."
It was her first time ever admitting such a thing. She braced for disgust.
Instead, Cassandra laughed. "Good. About time. You should borrow my toys. Or watch a few videos."
Serene's breath caught. "Lucien wouldn't like that."
"Fuck Lucien," Cassandra said with a smirk. "That man of yours isn't fun."
Serene laughed weakly, but the words stuck to her ribs.
That evening, back in her room, Serene caught her reflection, nipples hard under the thin fabric, her body curvier than she ever let herself notice. She tugged one nipple and gasped, her pussy instantly wet.
Her fingers trembled as she opened her laptop. A quick search.
Then a video of a woman moaning, her thighs spread, fucking herself with a toy.
Serene's hand was between her legs before she could think."Oh, fuck," she whispered, squeezing her breast, rubbing her clit, and sliding her fingers deep. The sounds escaped her lips unchecked, louder than she meant.
Her orgasm tore through her body, violent and blinding, and she collapsed into sleep.
She dreamed.
Fingers spreading her open. A thumb stroking her slick heat. Lips drinking from her pussy. Her moans spilled freely.
"Please," she begged. "Don't stop."
She was so close to orgasm. And then he stopped. A hand patted her head.
She woke gasping, thighs wet, heart hammering.
The room was empty.
But it felt like someone had just left.
Back home, Lucien greeted her with false warmth. That night, he said he missed her. He undressed her more gently than usual, but once inside her, he was the same, thrusting and using her body like an object, not giving thought to her pleasure.
Serene shut her eyes and remembered the dream. Her pussy clenched with it dripping.
Lucien moaned, surprised. "Why are you so wet tonight?"
She didn't answer. He came quickly and rolled away. Typical of Lucien She lay awake, still burning, her body screaming for more.
That night, in another room, she searched for videos Cassandra had whispered about. Her hand moved without thought. She came again, trembling and breathless.
And she decided. She needed a toy.
The next evening, a package arrived.
Inside: a red bra and pantyhose. A thick red dildo. A sleek, humming vibrator.
Cassandra. Of course.
Serene pressed the bra to her chest, heat rushing to her cheeks. She hid the toys fast, terrified Lucien would see.
But curiosity burned hotter than fear. She stripped, slid on the bra, and admired her reflection. Then she turned on the vibrator.
It buzzed alive in her palm. Her pussy clenched just from the sound.
She spread her legs, slipped it inside, and moaned loud enough to startle herself.
"Fuck," she gasped, pinching her nipples, riding the toy harder, faster, drowning in sensation she'd never known was possible.
The orgasm slammed into her. Then another. She kept grinding, desperate for more.
And then
Ping.
Her phone lit up. A message from an unknown number."I love it when you moan, sexy Serene."
The toy slipped from her fingers.
Her breath caught. The walls seemed to close in, her reflection in the mirror suddenly obscene.
Someone was watching.
Someone had seen everything.