It had been a few days since she had run into Trey, her affair. And as she lay in bed next to her husband late at night, her mind had drifted back to the memory she had worked so long to bury away in her mind.
The bedroom was quiet-too quiet.
The kind of silence that didn’t soothe but pressed, heavy and close. Moonlight spilled through the sheer curtains, casting soft, silver bars across the sheets. Elena lay still beneath them, one arm tucked under her pillow, the other resting just above the curve of her stomach. Beside her, James breathed evenly-deep, steady inhales that belonged to a man untroubled in his sleep.
She envied that.
Elena stared at the ceiling, her eyes wide open, her body humming with something restless and old. It had been days since the gallery. Days since Trey’s voice slid against her like silk and gravel. Days since her body remembered what it meant to ache and be noticed.
But time hadn’t dulled the heat of it-it had sharpened it.
She shifted slightly, careful not to disturb James. His hand, lax on the mattress between them, twitched with the rhythm of a dream with Trey. She turned her back to him slowly, inch by inch, until her body curled inward, knees drawn just enough to feel the stretch of her panties across her thighs.
Her fingers moved beneath the covers with practiced stealth.
Softly. Quietly.
She bit down gently on the edge of her pillow as she slid her hand between her legs. She was already wet. Embarrassingly so. The kind of slick heat that came from remembering-no, reliving. The weight of Trey’s hands. The command in his eyes. The way he didn’t ask, just took. The way he looked at her like she was something to be ruined and worshipped all at once.
Her breath hitched.
Elena’s fingers worked slowly, deliberately, tracing the delicate, familiar pathways of her need. She didn’t rush. She couldn’t-not with James inches away, not with the ghost of guilt already curling in her chest.
But still, she needed it. Needed him. In her mind, Trey was everywhere-his breath against her neck, the sound of his voice saying her name like a promise and a threat.
You’ve been living the quiet life too long. I can see it in the way you breathe.
Her body arched slightly as she pressed deeper, hips rocking in small, stifled pulses. The pressure built fast, sharper than she expected. Her toes curled, her mouth fell open against the sheets, and her breath trembled through clenched teeth.
Trey’s hands. Trey’s cock. Trey’s voice telling her what to do.
Her release came in a slow, pulsing wave that made her thighs clench and her fingers tremble. She gasped into the mattress, silent but shaken, her heart pounding with the violence of it.
Then-nothing.
No more movement. No more sound.
Just the heavy quiet of the room. The soft rise and fall of James beside her. The too-loud thump of her own heartbeat.
She withdrew her hand, letting it rest against her stomach, damp and trembling. Her eyes stayed fixed on the ceiling.
And for a moment, she hated herself.
Not because of what she’d done.
But because she wanted more.
