Selene wanted things to work with Lucien. She longed for him to see her as more than a woman he married, more than a possession to parade, fuck, and tuck away. Maybe if he ever looked at her as someone who had desires, someone who mattered, she wouldn't have fallen so far.
But here she was on the edge of betrayal, sitting in some stranger's lap, soaking her panties, a man's hand pressed against her, her moans drowned by the music. And Lucien had been so close.
Cassandra ran up to Lucien, a perfect distraction as the man's hand slid away. Relief flooded Selene, and she rose from the table, heading straight to the bathroom. She felt Lucien's gaze on her until she stepped inside, and then her knees buckled. She needed air. She needed clarity. What had just happened was dangerously close. And Cassandra appearing at that exact moment coincidence, or something more? She didn't know who to trust. She was alone, and the thought made her stomach turn.
A few minutes later, Cassandra appeared in the bathroom. "Are you okay?" she asked.
Selene didn't answer calmly. Her anger took over. She grabbed Cassandra by the neck, tightening her fingers before thinking, demanding to know why she was playing games. Who was that man?
Cassandra coughed and choked, eyes wide in shock. Selene released her immediately and muttered an apology, ashamed of her strength and fury.
"I don't know what you mean," Cassandra said, confusion clouding her features. She asked why Selene had been sitting in that man's seat and if she liked him. She said she only stepped in because she saw Lucien walking toward them.
Selene brushed it off. She told Cassandra he was just an old friend from before her marriage. She fixed her makeup, apologized again, and the two of them returned to the table as if nothing had happened.
The drive home was silent. Selene couldn't stop thinking about what Lucien was feeling or what he suspected.
Once inside their bedroom, Lucien's anger spilled over. He pushed Selene onto the bed, his voice low and dangerous. "Who was he?"
Selene denied knowing him. Lucien didn't care. He tore her panties and thrust hard, leaving her crying but still passive as he finished and rolled off. He fell asleep immediately afterward.
The next morning, Lucien awoke with apologies. He suggested a staycation just the two of them in a quiet house somewhere private. Selene stared at him, searching for the motive behind this sudden tenderness. Why the change?
She packed her things, still shaking as they drove. Lucien noticed and held her hand, assuring her he wanted them to enjoy themselves. That he wanted to be a better husband. But could Lucien ever make her feel like Darius had? Could he touch her the way she needed?
The house was perfect: open windows, soft lighting, and a massive bed with crisp white sheets. Peaceful. But Selene wasn't.
That night, Lucien sat beside her on the bed, his hand brushing her thigh gently. "Tell me the truth," he said. "Something's changed about you. You're bolder now, like you're not afraid of anything. What's going on with you, Selene?"
Her chest tightened. She laughed nervously, looking away, hiding the fear she felt inside. She wasn't afraid of Lucien or even Darius. She was afraid of herself, of what she craved.
Lucien leaned in to kiss her. She kissed back, slow, letting him move up her thigh and slide his fingers inside. But she felt nothing for him. Her mind was elsewhere, imagining Darius's breath on her neck, his grip, the way he made her gag, and the filthy words he whispered. Her moans were not for Lucien; they were for Darius.
Her voice escaped unintentionally. Lucien paused. "What did you say?"
"Nothing," she whispered.
He narrowed his eyes but didn't press further. Instead, he kissed her harder, moving slower, carefully, and tenderly. His fingers found her wetness, and she came quietly with her eyes closed, thinking of the man who demanded obedience, not love.
Guilt gnawed at her later as she watched Lucien sleep. He had tried. He had apologized. He had brought her here. But Darius's power over her burned in her chest. She was changing, and Lucien was only beginning to notice.
Her phone buzzed on the nightstand.
"So you went on a vacation to enjoy yourself, bad girl?"
Her stomach fluttered nervously. *Was he always watching?* Her pussy tingled at the thought.
She typed a reply, "Wish it was you here, then deleted it.
"You owe me. Tonight, you'll get on top of your husband and ride him. Slowly. I want you to make it nasty. Look him in the eyes. Show him the woman you've become. Make him wonder who you really are."
It was a command. A punishment.
Selene glanced at Lucien, still scrolling his phone, unaware. She kissed his shoulder, slid the blanket off, and climbed on top. She moved slowly, teasing him, grinding, kissing, touching, and moaning low and deep, letting him watch her in ways she had never allowed.
Lucien's eyes widened. "Who taught you that?" he asked.
Selene froze, then laughed lightly. "What do you mean?"
"You weren't like this," he said, his voice tighter now, suspicion and curiosity blending.
She leaned forward, whispered in his ear, and let herself sink fully into the performance, the dangerous pleasure, and the power she now carried. She wanted him to wonder. She hated that she did.
Her phone buzzed again.
"Good girl. Now he's watching. He won't stop. You feel it too, don't you?"*
Selene didn't reply. She couldn't. She felt the shift, the power. Lucien was beginning to suspect. And that meant she was deeper than even she had realized.