Jessica stood by the mirror, one hand adjusting the strap of her dress, the other smoothing the fabric over her hip. The dress was either new or one she had bought long ago and saved for a night like this. It was black, simple but stylish, with a muted charcoal undertone that softened under the overhead light. The neckline draped loosely across her chest in gentle folds. She wore it like it had been made for her, framing her body perfectly, drawing the eye to all the right places.

Colin leaned against the bedroom doorframe with his arms crossed, quietly admiring his wife’s efficiency as she prepared herself for the night ahead. He had stayed silent since she began getting ready, walking the line between being present and giving her space.

She picked up her bracelet from the vanity and fastened it without needing to look. The same with her earrings, small gold hoops. Every choice she made was deliberate. Her ensemble had been curated; each piece complemented the other.

“Is it warm enough out for that?” he asked quietly.

Jessica didn’t look at him. “I’ll have a coat.”

Colin nodded. Of course she would. She’d planned every detail, with contingencies in place to cover any possible variable.

She stepped into her heels. Simple, black, nothing flashy. The kind that made her ankles look delicate. When she stood upright again, she met his gaze in the mirror. Her expression was unreadable, a trace of concern beneath a composed exterior, hoping that if she projected calmness, he’d find it too.

He tried to hold her eyes for a moment longer than he had planned, but she turned slightly to face the mirror, angling her voice toward him.

“You don’t have to wait up if you don’t want to.”

“I won’t be able to sleep.”

Jessica picked up her phone and slipped it into the small clutch she had laid out earlier on the bed. It barely fit. She gave it a small nudge until it slid into place.

“I’ll send updates,” she said.

“I know.”

She finally turned toward him. For a moment, it seemed like she might say something more, but she didn’t. She walked past him, close enough for him to catch the perfume she had sprayed on her wrists. He recognized the scent, a gift he had chosen carefully. It was the kind that never fully revealed itself until the wearer was already stepping away.

She paused at the front door, pulling her coat from the hook and slipping it on one sleeve at a time. Colin stayed in the hallway. He took a step forward, then thought better of it and took a smaller step back.

Jessica looked down at her outfit, giving it a final inspection before leaving the house, then at her reflection in the window beside the door. She adjusted a strand of hair and pressed her lips together, smoothing the gloss with a quiet exhale. Then she looked at him again.

“I should be home by midnight, maybe a bit later,” she said. “Depending on how things go.”

It was a soft line, spoken lightly, but it carried weight. Just one last check-in before they each committed to what was to come.

Colin nodded.

She opened the door and stepped out into the night.

Colin watched the shape of his wife through frosted glass as she stepped onto the sidewalk and climbed into an Uber. The house settled into the kind of silence that always followed when she left without him, quick to arrive and slow to lift.

He stood still for a few more seconds, then walked back through the house. The bedroom was dim, the ensuite vanity light still glowing, casting a soft haze across the walls. A wine bottle sat open on the kitchen counter, one glass poured. She had taken two out, but only filled one.

He looked at the glass and considered it before deciding it might be better to save for later in the evening.

He moved to the living room and sat down on the edge of the couch. The lamp in the far corner was still on. Its glow made the room feel smaller than it was. He reached for the remote, pressed the power button, then changed his mind and set it down again. He adjusted the pillow at his side. Checked the time. Looked at his phone. Nothing yet.

He leaned back.

Fifteen minutes passed.

And fifteen more.

Then, for the first time this night, his phone buzzed. Colin picked it up.                                                                                                                                                                            

A text message.

I’m at the bar.

Followed by a photo.

A cocktail glass, held delicately between two fingers. The drink was pale orange, filled with crushed ice and garnished with a sprig of something green. Her nails were dark, freshly painted, the same shade as her dress. In the background, he could make out the blur of amber light and the clean edge of a marble bar.

He looked at it for a long moment, then zoomed in. He saw the faint reflection of her phone in the curve of the glass. Just the suggestion of a smile. The shimmer of her lip gloss caught in the light.

He didn’t respond to the messages.

Colin turned the phone over in his hand, set it face-up on the arm of the couch, and closed his eyes for a moment.

His mind moved backward. Not to the beginning, but to the beginning of what they had become.

It started out as nothing, or almost nothing. Something she’d said half-laughing, half-curious, then repeated later when the lights were low and a thought was forming. What began as something said for effect became something else. The joke of it turned into something less funny, then eventually a more serious idea they stopped laughing at.

Once it was said out loud without pretense, it stopped being pretend. It took root, grew teeth, and set in.

They played it out in pieces. At first, they’d meet in bars and act like strangers. Colin would approach. Jessica would tell him about her husband and talk about boundaries, love, and loyalty. He’d press. She’d resist… then give in.

Those nights always led to the best sex.

Jessica was more free in those moments. Like someone waking up in her own skin for the first time. Colin watched her become a version of herself he’d never imagined but suddenly couldn’t stop needing. A woman made more real by fantasy. Emboldened by the thought of being wanted by someone else, and giving in to that desire.

It made her stronger, and Colin loved it.

She had grown more confident with each game. Her appetite deepened alongside it. That was what he remembered most clearly, how wanting her had become more consuming the more she let herself be seen through someone else’s eyes.

But what stayed with him even more were the nights that followed. The moments after. When they would lie in bed, in each other’s arms, breath soft, and she would ask it in a way that suggested a desire more than a curiosity.

“What if we did this for real?”

Colin remained on the couch. He had shifted his body once, then again, eventually finding a position that made it easier to stay still. The phone lay beside him, screen dimmed. He still hadn’t touched the wine.

The next buzz came almost as soon as he’d stopped anticipating it.

He unlocked the screen.

He’s even taller than he looks in his profile. Very sexy. You picked the right one.

Colin read the message more than once, letting the words settle.

The final choice was always hers, but Jessica made sure he was included in the decision. That was part of the ritual. She would narrow a list to four or five men, then ask for his thoughts on each one.

“Picture each of them on top of me, inside me. Which one threatens you the most?”

Colin always answered honestly. This time, it was Tayshaun. If he had picked anyone else, Jessica would have known. The choice had been too obvious to pretend otherwise.

His thumbs hovered over the keyboard as he considered a reply. Then he closed it. He turned the phone over again and placed it on the coffee table, where the light would not catch it.

His jaw tensed. His hands rested on his thighs.

He glanced toward the kitchen. The single glass of wine had begun to gather condensation at its rim.

Another vibration came just as he stood. He sat back down without realizing it.

The image appeared on his phone.

Jessica across a table, but only part of her. A cropped frame: the curve of her neck, the top of her chest, and the rim of her glass raised just below her mouth. A candle flickered out of focus in the background. Her lipstick looked darker now. Thicker. Like she had reapplied it with intention.

There was no one else in the shot, but the presence of the other side of the table was implied. Someone had pulled her attention forward. Her posture said as much. Shoulders squared, lips parted. The glass frozen mid-lift.

Colin stared until the screen dimmed again. Then he had a sudden thought.

He opened his photo library.

It felt intrusive, even though they were his.

Pictures from last month. Jessica at home, resting in their backyard hammock. A snap of the two of them at a baseball game. Another one from the previous week, Jessica coming home from the gym, an excuse to have a picture of her in yoga pants. He scrolled slowly, then stopped. A mirror of a selfie from their anniversary. Same gloss. Same pose. Same look. Same glass held in the same position. The only difference between this picture and the one she’d just sent him was that Tayshaun was in his place. Jessica had casually recreated a photo from that night and dared him to remember.

The phone buzzed again.

He said I smell expensive.

The perfume he’d bought, Libre Intense, was an anniversary gift. She was giving him a clue to a riddle he’d already solved.

Colin exhaled through his nose.

His fingers hovered over the screen.

He typed, I’m glad he likes it, then deleted it.

He tried again. Is this the anniversary you wanted? But that didn’t land right either. It sounded bitter. Or worse, eager.

He erased the words, locked the phone, and set it down.

He stood and walked to the kitchen, not for any reason but to move. He opened the fridge without knowing what he wanted and closed it again when he found exactly that.

The clock on the microwave clicked forward. Nine-twelve.

He leaned against the counter for a while, staring across the open space toward the living room. His phone sat on the arm of the couch, waiting, much like he was.

When the next image arrived, the screen lit up. The vibration sounded louder than it should have.

Colin picked up the glass of wine and walked back toward the couch. He sat down, steadying his breath, then opened the message slowly.

A shot from inside a car, either a cab or an Uber. The seat leather looked worn, the light low and tinted orange by the overhead fixture. Jessica’s leg was bare from mid-thigh down. The hem of her dress had risen well above where it had started. Her hand held her clutch in her lap, resting lightly. The other leg bent toward the door.

But it wasn’t her hand that Colin noticed first.

Tayshaun’s hand rested above her knee, fingers splayed. Not gripping. Just there. Close enough to imply movement. The gesture was casual, but the implication wasn’t. The way the hand sat, slightly angled, it looked as though it might be ready to inch its way higher.

Colin stared at the image and took the first sip of his wine.

More than an hour passed before the next message arrived. Before opening it, he ran his hand over his mouth, then down along his jaw, letting it rest there. Experience had taught him the delay between this message and the last one meant things were about to escalate.

We danced. He held my waist like he owned it, because he does. I belong to him tonight. Not you.

Colin sat very still.

He read it once. Then again, as if a second glance might soften it. He tried to push the image out of his mind, a half-hearted protest at best. He imagined the music. The curve of her back shifting beneath Tayshaun’s palm. The heat of his body pressed close behind her.

He could hear her voice when he read the message again. Not in the words themselves, but in the silence that followed them. The same voice that once said “What if we did this for real?” was coming through in this text.

She hadn’t written it to be playful. Not even to tease, though that was part of it. She was speaking plainly, telling the truth in the way she had chosen to tell it, all without apology.

It took a few seconds before Colin reminded himself to breathe again.

The house didn’t offer any distractions. The television was off. The rooms were dark beyond the soft pool of light around the couch. His body had started to ache, not in pain, but in anticipation.

He wanted to reply, just as he wanted to with the others as well, but there was nothing to say.

He thought back again, this time to a little more than a year ago.

Jessica was on top of him, her knees pressed against the sides of his ribs, flexing her thighs with each slow, grinding motion. Strands of damp hair clung to her back, stuck in place as she rode him with control. Her hands pinned his in place, holding them above his head as she looked down on him and spoke.  

“I don’t want to cheat on you,” she said. Her hips rolled forward again, drawing a quiet breath from his throat. “I want you to want this for me. For us. I want you to know I’m still yours when I come home.”

Colin followed with caution.

“And you’ll still be mine when I come home to you.”

Jessica shook her head, the movement clear with intent.

“No. You won’t be going out. That’s not what I want for us.”

Colin never fully understood why he accepted it. He only knew that, somehow, it felt right. He hadn’t asked because he wanted it for himself, but because he needed to hear her say no.

The phone buzzed again.

It was a video this time.

He hesitated before pressing play. The thumbnail showed movement, a blur of warm lighting, the edge of a shoulder, the curve of her cheek. No faces, but the intimacy was already there in the framing.

He tapped the screen.

Jessica’s laughter was the first thing he heard. It came quickly, a soft rush of breath followed by her voice rising with a word that cut off midway. In the next moment, Tayshaun’s mouth covered hers. The sound changed. No more words. Just the wet press of lips against lips, a sharp inhale from her nose, then a moan. Full and involuntary. It dragged out between them, as if she had not meant to give it away.

The kiss went on, deep and personal. His hand came into frame, fingers in her hair, and then the video cut out.

Colin watched it again.

This time, he paid attention to the way she arched toward it. The tension in her arm as she held the phone. The flutter in her eyes before she closed them. The sound of her breath hitching at the end.

He had tried to put a stop to it once. He told her it was too much, that he didn’t like how it made him feel afterward. But the truth was, he didn’t like how it made him feel during, and that was the part he was drawn to the most. It was hard to accept wanting something so badly when it came with so much pain. But watching her give herself away, so freely and shamelessly, made everything about them feel more real. It was harder still to admit that jealousy and humiliation were the prices he wanted to pay as sacrifices offered up for love. Jessica had made him realize he shouldn’t fear the ache. He should fear the day it stopped hurting.

He let the screen fade to black before setting it face-down on the arm of the couch.

He tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling.

His jaw clenched. The pressure had moved from his chest to his groin. He closed his hand around his thigh and held it there. Breathing slowly. Deeply. The ache was familiar now.

He didn’t touch himself. He’d wait for Jessica to come home. That too was part of the ritual.

The next message came just a few minutes later.

Room 815. Great view from the balcony. I can’t wait to get fucked.

Colin didn’t move, except for the hand that reached, almost without thought, for his wine. The sip turned into a gulp before he could stop himself.

The pressure between his legs felt unbearable. His pulse had moved into his fingertips, the way it does during sex, right before the moment he came.

He closed his eyes.

And the room stayed very quiet.

The next photo came without text.

Jessica was standing, captured at a slight upward angle, her body turned three-quarters away from the camera. The lighting was low, almost hazy. Tayshaun stood behind her, his arms around her waist, his head lowered to her neck. His mouth was pressed to her skin. One of his hands was already beneath the neckline of her dress, tugging it down from her shoulder, exposing her breast. She wasn’t wearing a bra.

It was her expression that stopped Colin cold, though.

She was smiling. Not a posed smile. Not the half-smirk she used when teasing him. This one was different, unguarded, and open. Her lips slightly parted. Her eyes closed. Her whole face softened by pleasure and anticipation. She looked lit from the inside.

It wasn’t the kiss that stung. Or the way Tayshaun’s body enveloped hers. It was the smile. The effortless joy in it. Colin couldn’t ever remember making his wife smile like that. Not once. He stared at the photo for a long time, as if some new part of him had been exposed alongside her.

He turned the phone over and placed it screen-down.

But the image remained behind his eyes.

He knew no more messages would come anytime soon. The phone would go silent for an hour, maybe longer, depending on how things go, as Jessica liked to say. When it was over, there would be a final text. I’m on my way home. Nothing more. Then she would walk through the door, join him in the living room, and they would talk. That was how these nights went. It always went the same way.

Colin looked at his watch. It was ten thirty.

He finished his first glass of wine and walked to the kitchen to pour another. After refilling his own, he brought the bottle and Jessica’s untouched glass back to the living room. He placed it on the table beside his. She would have one waiting when she got home.

It had been more than thirty minutes since the last message.

Colin sat in the dark now. The lamp had been switched off. Only the glow from the hallway spilled faintly into the room. He hadn’t moved except to check the time, again and again.

When his phone rang, the sound startled him. A real call, not a message. Her name on the screen.

He answered instantly.

There was no greeting.

Just sound.

Muffled, but clear enough. Her phone was on speaker.

This was something new. Not part of how these nights normally went.

Heavy breath. A low male groan. The slap of skin, wet and rhythmic.

Jessica’s voice rose through it all, high and gasping.

“Your cock is so big,” she cried out. “You feel so good inside me.”

Colin sat up straighter, phone pressed tighter to his ear.

Tayshaun grunted. “Your wife’s pussy is fucking perfect, she’s so wet for me.”

The bed creaked under their bodies. Jessica’s moans grew louder, less controlled. Colin could hear her breathing shake as she tried to form words.

“Colin,” she panted. “This is the best cock I’ve ever had. I needed you to hear it. He’s so fucking good.”

Tayshaun laughed. “Listen how she moans for someone who knows how to fuck her.”

Colin swallowed hard, but said nothing.

Through the phone, he heard Jessica whimper, then gasp, as the slapping sound of their bodies colliding picked up pace and intensity.

“He’s so much bigger than you. So much thicker. I feel full. I can barely take it.” Jessica struggled to speak, but managed to get the words out, timed with Tayshaun’s thrusting.

Colin shifted in his seat. His hand tightened on the phone. His heart pounded in his chest.

He heard them moving on the bed, maybe rearranging themselves. “Oh,” she said, sounding uncertain, followed by a breathier, “Oooh,” as if she had just realized what he was doing, and what he wanted to do to her.

Colin heard a sharp slap, the distinct sound of Tayshaun’s hand striking his wife’s ass. Jessica cried out, not in pain, but in surprise.

Then Tayshaun’s voice followed. “You want this cock?”

“Yes...” Her voice was thin and urgent, the word stretched out in a pleading tone.

“You feel like a slut? Begging for another man’s cock while your husband listens?”

Jessica didn’t answer right away, but Colin could hear soft, broken sounds slipping from her mouth. Half-formed words. Little moans she couldn’t hold in.

“Say it,” Tayshaun demanded.

“I’m a slut,” she gasped. “Please give me your cock.”

“Who fucks you better?”

“You do.” This time her answer came without hesitation.

“Good girl.”

Colin heard a long, low moan escape her, one full of aching and satisfaction. The sound of someone getting exactly what they needed after too long a wait.

He could hear the rhythm and picture the scene without effort, Jessica on all fours, her body braced beneath Tayshaun as he drove into her from behind. He imagined her eyes rolling back, her mouth open in surrender. Every gasp, every moan carried through the phone, each one painting the picture more clearly than the last.

“He’s so fucking deep,” Jessica said, as much to herself as to Colin.

Colin listened to the wet, relentless sound of Tayshaun’s hips driving into her, each thrust landing with a loud, unmistakable slap. Jessica’s moans had lost all rhythm, breaking into soft cries as her breath became uneven, caught with each deep push. “Just like that,” she gasped, her voice pitched high, “fuck me harder, don’t stop.” The mattress groaned beneath them, the pace quickening, her encouragement turning into pleading. “You feel so good,” she cried, her voice raw now. “Keep going… make me cum… I’m going to cum on your cock.” Colin sat frozen, every word carving itself into him, every sound leaving nothing to the imagination.

Tayshaun groaned, sounding louder, closer to the phone. “I’m gonna fill your pussy. Give you something to take home to your husband.”

“I’m cumming,” Jessica cried out. “Oh fuck, I’m cumming.” Her voice rose in a sharp, desperate shout before breaking into something softer, almost a whimper, as the release took hold of her.

Tayshaun came seconds later, grunting through clenched teeth as he drove himself as deep into Jessica‘s pussy as her body would allow. His breath caught in short, broken bursts, each thrust slower now, more final.

Then silence. Labored breathing. Jessica’s whispered laugh. Tayshaun’s deep voice.

And her voice again, low and satisfied.

“I’ll see you soon,” she said into the phone.

The call ended.

Colin sat perfectly still. The phone remained pressed to his ear for several seconds before he lowered it slowly to the table.

His body was pulsing. His cock strained against the fabric of his pants. Every word still echoed in his head. Her voice. His voice. The sounds of her body. The things she had said. The things she had meant.

And the worst part, the best part, was knowing it wasn’t a performance. She had meant all of it.

With the call over, Colin had once again become sharply aware of how silent the house had been since Jessica left. Now it felt doubly so, as if even the walls knew not to make a sound. The quiet pressed in around him, in a way that almost felt oppressive.

Colin stood, not knowing why. He just needed to move.

The pressure between his legs had become a steady throb. A dull, constant ache, crying for relief, one that refused to let him forget any part of the night.

He made his way to the back of the house and stepped out onto the deck. The air was cool against his skin, and he told himself it would help clear his head.

As he stood in the breeze, he looked out at the neighboring houses, their windows dim, their yards still. He wondered if any of them had noticed how, at least once a month, Jessica went out alone, usually on a weekend, always dressed to be seen, and came back late, hair tangled, lipstick smeared, mascara running. Sometimes she walked barefoot from the Uber, heels dangling from her fingers, too drunk or too used to keep them on.

If anyone ever asked, he had a story ready. Girls’ night. A harmless explanation. Not that it would account for the way she looked when she came home, like she had been fucked by a stranger who could do a better job of it than he could. He hoped it would be enough to end the conversation. He couldn’t do anything about the rumors, if some ever started. If they hadn’t already.

He checked the time. It was nearly one. She’d be home soon, in fifteen or twenty minutes, he guessed.

Colin moved back inside, to the couch, sat, and waited.

He checked the phone, not expecting to see a new message from Jessica, but to review the night.

He opened the thread.

He scrolled to the beginning. The photo of her cocktail, her fingers wrapped neatly around the glass. He stared at it. Then the image of her across the table. The shape of her neckline. Her lipstick, darker than before.

He moved slowly through the night’s timeline. The message about her waist. Her hips. How he owned her tonight. The image of her in the cab. Tayshaun’s hand on her leg.

Then the video.

He played it again.

Watched her melt into the kiss. Watched her arch. The sound of her moan, half caught, half surrendered. The heat of it sat in his stomach.

He scrolled to the last photo. Tayshaun kissing her neck, her dress sliding down. Her smile.

That smile.

Colin let the screen fade to black.

He sat still, but his mind wasn’t.

He thought of the call, still fresh in his memory. He could hear it all. The rhythm. The words. Tayshaun’s voice. Jessica’s moans, drawn out and needy. Her saying things meant to undo him. Her saying things she knew he wouldn’t forget.

His imagination took what was given and pushed further. He saw her on all fours, hands pressed into the sheets. Her back arched. Her mouth open in a cry that came with no breath behind it. Tayshaun behind her, this hips slamming forward, her body jerking from the force of it. Her eyes glazed, her voice hoarse.

He imagined her looking up at the phone, at him.

The thought nearly broke him.

Colin edged forward on the couch, elbows on his knees, face in his hands.

As much as he wanted to, he didn’t touch himself. The temptation was there, so much so it hurt to deny himself, but he’d wait for Jessica.

And for the next few moments, the silence held it all.

Then, the lock clicked just past one in the morning.

Colin’s head lifted from his hands. The sound of the deadbolt sliding back. The slow turn of the knob.

Jessica stepped inside.

She closed the door behind her with quiet ease, then stood for a moment, letting her eyes adjust to the dark.

Her dress was wrinkled now, bunched slightly at the waist, loose in places it had once clung. Her lipstick was faded and uneven. Her hair was pulled back with casual indifference, twisted into something between a knot and a collapse.

She didn’t speak.

She didn’t need to.

She placed her clutch on the kitchen counter, removed her phone, and looked at him.

Her eyes moved across the room slowly, pausing on Colin the way one might pause on something they already knew was theirs.

She walked toward him.

He stood without realizing it.

Jessica stopped in front of him. She said nothing, but placed her phone in his hand. Her fingers brushed his briefly as she let it go.

He unlocked the screen.

The first image was one he hadn’t seen before.

Jessica kneeling on the carpet beside the bed. Her dress was gone. Tayshaun stood in front of her, his hand curled into her hair. His enormous cock filled her mouth, her free hand couldn’t cover the rest of it. She was looking up at the camera with eyes that shimmered. Her cheeks hollowed. Her lips stretched wide.

Colin’s throat tightened.

He scrolled.

The next photo showed her sprawled out on the hotel bed, completely naked. Her legs spread, one knee bent outward. The inner curve of her thigh glistened. Her hand rested lazily on her stomach. Her eyes were closed. The relaxed position of her body told the whole story. She’d been thoroughly used, fucked like a slut without shame.

Another image followed. Jessica and Tayshaun, side by side. His arm around her shoulders. Her head leaning against his chest. Both of them smiling. Her hair was a mess. Her skin flushed. The glow in her face was soft and complete.

Colin stared at the image longer than the others.

The phone slid from his hand onto the couch beside him.

Jessica stepped closer.

Her hand moved to his crotch, pressing firmly. Her fingers curled slightly.

He was still hard.

“Did you wait,” she asked calmly, “or are you hard again after jerking off already?”

Her tone landed somewhere between reward and possession.

“I waited,” he assured her.

She reached down, undid his belt, then unzipped his pants with a slow, careful pull. They dropped to his ankles. His boxers followed.

She pressed her palm to his cock, warm through her skin, then gave it a gentle stroke.

He exhaled through his teeth.

Jessica nudged him, and he dropped back onto the couch.

She moved to straddle him, lifting her dress to her waist. She reached between her legs and pulled her panties to the side with one finger.

She lowered herself onto him in one smooth motion.

He slid inside easily, too easily.

She didn’t close her eyes. She kept them on his.

“How pathetic,” she said. “You stayed up all night just for some used pussy.”

She began to roll her hips, rising just enough to let him almost slip out, then pushing down again until he was as deep as he could get.

Colin was already on the edge, struggling to hold back.

“I can barely feel you,” she whispered. “Tayshaun stretched me out so good.”

Colin shuddered beneath her.

She leaned in, lips close to his ear.

“What does it feel like to put yourself where a real cock was just an hour ago?”

Her voice dropped again, thick with cruel pleasure.

Colin couldn’t speak to answer, which was fine by Jessica. She was enjoying his torment and eager to add to it.

“I’m not wet for you. You’re fucking what he left behind.”

He groaned, hands gripping her waist, desperate for control he didn’t have.

She rode him harder now, her thighs flexing, her breath hitching only slightly.

It didn’t take long.

He came with a sharp cry, his body locking beneath hers, his eyes squeezed shut.

Jessica laughed.

She let him finish inside her, then stayed there for a few seconds longer, letting his pulse soften against her walls.

Then she slid off of him.

Colin sat there, flushed and quiet.

Jessica crouched down in front of him and placed a hand gently on his knee.

Her tone softened.

“Are you okay?”

He nodded.

“I didn’t go too far?

“No, it was great,” he said, his mind still in a daze.

Jessica smiled.

“Good,” she said. “Next time I’ll go further.”

She stood.

Tugged her dress, adjusted the straps, and let it fall back into place.

Then she reached her hand out to him.

“Come on,” she said. “Let’s get to bed. We have church in the morning.”