Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

M y thoughts have been revolving around the encounter with Ezra all day. But here and now, I have to bring the carousel of thoughts in my head to a halt because it’s simply wrong to think about him. I’m going to have a lovely evening with my husband tonight. I will allow him to make up for his misstep and let him spoil me. There’s no room for the outrageously handsome and far too young neighbor!

So here I am, sitting in front of my vanity in our bedroom, doing my eyeliner. I examine the result and look at my face. Suddenly, without being able to stop it, Ezra’s words from yesterday flash through my mind again, and my gaze wanders to his bedroom window. But the room is entirely dark.

I haven’t seen him since the incident at the garden center. Admittedly, I’ve also avoided bumping into him because I wouldn’t know what to say to him. There shouldn’t be another intimate moment like that between us. Jesus, he’s a good ten years younger, and I’m happily married.

So I concentrate on my makeup again before I put my hair up because I know Thomas likes it that way.

After stepping into my white high heels, I take another look at myself in the large mirror next to my closet. The heels aren’t too high, but still high enough to emphasize my long legs. I wear a creamy white cocktail dress with thin straps and a decent neckline. It doesn’t show too much but still emphasizes my generous C-cup. I’m wearing a thin, light-colored, lace-trimmed jacket over it to complete the look.

“Cora? Are you ready?” I hear my husband’s impatient voice from the hallway.

So much for I’ll make it up to you , I think smugly. A little startled by my irritation toward my husband, I take a deep breath before he joins me in the bedroom the next moment and subjects me to his critical gaze.

“Yes, I am. We can leave now,” I reply and reach for my purse, which I have already put on the bed.

“Cora,” Thomas murmurs, and I turn to him, not entirely understanding what he might want from me now.

He looks at me with wide-open eyes as if he likes what he sees. I can’t remember the last time my husband looked at me with such an expression. Thomas moves closer and presses his lips gently against my cheek while his hands caress my arms. I do my best to block out the thought of Ezra doing the same thing a few hours earlier.

“I think we’ll skip dinner, and I’ll undress you right now,” he murmurs against my cheek, continuing to kiss his way down my neck.

I chuckle because I don’t know what’s gotten into him. He’s not usually like this; I always try to look my best. I gently push him back and shake my head.

“Let’s go have dinner,” I say with a grin, kissing him and pulling away to finally leave. After all, we had other plans, and I’m looking forward to this dinner.

Thomas and I haven’t been on a date in far too long. When you fall into a routine, it’s easy to forget how meaningful closeness and intimacy can be—I'm not referring to sex, at least not initially.

But I don’t get very far because Thomas grabs my wrist and pulls me back toward him, only to kiss me ferociously. Somewhat taken by surprise and because I’m looking forward to our date, I push him back again.

“Thomas, don’t do that. We wanted to have a nice evening, remember? Besides, June is downstairs with a friend watching a movie.” He typically doesn’t need reminders about what is inappropriate, and this situation is clearly acceptable right now.

But he doesn’t stop kissing me, and his hand wanders under my dress and up my bare thighs to my panties. I take a deep breath as he runs his fingers over me. And again, I can’t help the images that flood my mind. Because in my imagination, if only for a millisecond, I see Ezra reaching under my skirt and running his rough fingers over my panties. Jesus Christ! Enough already!

“June went to see a movie with her friend. They left just as I was coming to get you,” he explains. Between kisses, his caresses over the fabric intensify.

I want to say something, but I’m running out of arguments. His movements feel too good. Thomas rarely takes much time for foreplay, so I really welcome his touch and finally let him change my mind because, in a way, I’ve missed him too. And I’m also firmly convinced that having sex will banish a particular unwanted gentleman from my thoughts.

However, the sex between Thomas and me has changed. It used to be frequent, passionate, and extensive. These days, we have brief encounters maybe once a week due to his demanding work schedule. As a result, we often skip the foreplay, which I enjoy and need to get in the mood.

But not today. Thomas’s hand makes his way into my panties, and he rubs me with increasing intensity. I let him guide me back to our bed, gasping excitedly at his mouth as our tongues dance. My fingers slide over the thin fabric of his shirt, and I undo button after button until I reach his belt.

Excitement sweeps through my body, and I want him to play with it. To have me at his mercy, to control me and my lust. As if in a frenzy, I get down on my knees in front of him and free his hardness. I look up at him with a lascivious smile and lower my lips to his tip.

“That’s how I like it,” Thomas moans and grabs my bun with one hand to guide me, taking away the control I’ve just gained over our pleasure play.

Instead of taking a sensual and playful approach, as I intended, Thomas now pushes himself roughly and quickly into my mouth. His grip on my bun gets harsher as he thrusts uncontrollably. I can already taste the first salty drops on my tongue.

“Shit, Cora. You’re making me so hot,” he groans, jerking me to my feet and impatiently guiding me onto the bed.

A moment later, he’s on top of me, pushing up my dress and pulling my panties aside. Once again, the foreplay is over, leaving me with a bitter aftertaste.

I try not to lose any of my excitement and instead willingly wrap my legs around his hips so that he can immediately push himself deep inside me. When he enters me with a powerful thrust, I moan gratefully and squeeze my legs a little tighter around his torso. I want to feel him inside me so much deeper and more intensely. The next thrust makes me arch my back, and a stifled cry leaves my lips. The tingling that sweeps through my body feels so good.

“God, Cora!” Thomas moans against my neck and thrusts himself into me with increasing speed.

“Slow down,” I beg him in a fragile voice because it feels so intoxicating right now, and I don’t want it to end.

But instead of listening to me, Thomas rams himself into me faster and faster. His moans grow louder, and I can feel his cock twitching deep inside me. Before I can say anything, he comes with a loud rumble. A few seconds later, he collapses on top of me, out of breath and sweating. Our hearts are beating hard, yet this hot knot of tension is still throbbing in my belly and desperately needs release. The tingling in my core is driving me crazy.

“That was incredible, Cora,” Thomas whispers in my ear, kissing me gently and lying beside me. I don’t even know what to say. Of course, I don’t get off now and then, which is usually perfectly fine with me, but now I’m in danger of bursting if I don’t come in the next few minutes.

I turn to my husband and kiss him again while my hand moves between his legs. But—to my further disappointment—Thomas is no longer hard, which means that’s it for today.

“What’s gotten into you? Someone’s needy today,” he states with a grin and pushes my hand away.

Deep down, I curse him, scream and rage, and shake him to his senses. But on the outside, I smile gently at him, and after kissing him again, I leave the bed.

“That’s all right. I’ll have a pizza delivered, and we’ll spend the evening in bed,” I reply with my perfectly rehearsed smile.

Thomas nods contentedly and quickly gets rid of his clothes.

“You see, it was a magical evening, after all.” He’s grinning from ear to ear, and I want to slap his face. I’m so frustrated right now. God damn it!

Shocked by my thoughts and growing resentment toward my husband, I hurry into our bathroom and undress. I clean myself up while everything inside me is still begging for attention. I grudgingly put on my robe and go downstairs to order a pizza. As I wait for the delivery boy, I treat myself to a large glass of wine, ignoring the frustrated throbbing of my core.

I feel a slight buzz after glass number three, and the doorbell finally rings.

I open the door and pay the young man with a generous tip.

When I get upstairs with the food, two glasses, and the opened bottle of red wine, I am furious to see that Thomas is already asleep and snoring.

I would love to throw the hot pizza in his sleeping face and yell at him for his rudeness. For the love of God, I wanted romance, love, and fantastic sex to complete the evening. I tried to forgive him for his misbehavior after he would have sworn to me over a nice dinner that it would have been the last time. I want everything to be perfect. The way Thomas always wanted it. The way he always intended our lives to be.

But everything is far from perfect right now. My life is a chaotic mess. It’s like sand running through my fingers, and I can’t hold on to it, no matter how hard I try. The refined grains continue to escape and show me how powerless I am. What am I even thinking?

My eyes fall on the bottle of wine in my hand. I’ve probably had too much to drink. But now that it doesn’t matter anyway, and the evening is over, I might as well empty the whole bottle. I take my cell phone out of my purse and go back downstairs. In the kitchen, I put Thomas’s glass back in the cupboard and store the pizza in the fridge so we can eat it tomorrow.

June texted, saying she’s staying with a friend tonight, but she wants to eat with us before she goes back to campus tomorrow. The problem with her failed midterm is already a distant memory. June is reluctant to confront her doubts about studying law and tries to push those feelings aside. I can't help her if she's not willing to face the issue and consider switching majors. She needs to determine her true passion and make that decision on her own. In the meantime, my role is to offer support when she faces setbacks, like failing another exam. Eventually, she will have to address these concerns and have a conversation with her father.

I lock the front door and switch on the alarm system, as June won’t come home tonight. Armed with the bottle of red wine, I decide to sit outside. I switch on the fairy lights in my pavilion and enjoy the peace and quiet. Under the pavilion, there’s a Hollywood swing and two spacious wicker armchairs. A small folding table sits in front of the swing for drinks. Normally, I’d choose the swing, but tonight, the armchair is more fitting. I can lean back and gaze up at the starry sky—exactly what I need right now. No brooding. No thoughts. And indeed, no memory of my encounter in the garden center!

I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting here as I empty the last sip of the wine bottle, get up to get a new one, and realize I’m beyond tipsy. But I need more after a day like today, so, with a fresh bottle in hand, I pour myself another glass.

I don’t want to think about anything. I want to sit here and let my mind wander. Since June won’t be coming home and Thomas is already asleep, they don’t care how much I drink and how long I stay awake.

With my eyes closed, I enjoy the silence and repeatedly take small sips of my drink. Crossing my legs, I still try to fight my desire. The gentle tingling sensation won’t fade, which is why I keep moving my legs, desperately trying not to cause too much friction because otherwise, I threaten to burst.

A cool breeze brushes over my naked core while I open my thighs slightly, and it feels surprisingly good, as I’m still only wearing my silk robe. Although it is night, the temperature is still relatively high.

My breathing quickens, and I spread my legs further to enjoy the gentle air kiss. I can’t help but think of Ezra and his many bulging muscles, even if I don’t want to. His tangy scent and his fragrant aftershave come back to mind, and it’s as if he’s here with me, and his breath is brushing against my core.

I inhale deeply and capture my lower lip with my teeth because it feels so real. The throbbing intensifies and almost drives me mad. I can’t stand it any longer and move my hands toward my clit. I open my eyes and freeze, looking directly into a mix of gold and amber. Ezra .

Is it really him? Not a figment of my imagination, thanks to all the alcohol? The wish that he could really touch me right now? I want to say something because if it is genuinely happening… I must put a stop to it this instance! No matter how much I secretly wish for it. But when he puts a finger to his full lips, gesturing to stay silent, I pause and look at him. Is this real?

I hold my breath, waiting to see what he will do next.

Our eyes lock, and that alone ignites a fire in me. My desire burns for this young man, even though he hasn’t touched me yet. When he slowly takes his eyes off me, looks down at my core, and licks his full lips, I’m in danger of losing all sense of decency.

He leisurely lowers his head, and when his hot breath hits my core again, I exhale with a hiss and tense up for a moment. I should stop this right now! And yet I do nothing as his soft lips touch my folds.

My teeth bury themselves in my lower lip, and yet I can’t stop myself from moaning when I feel his tongue on me.

I hastily put my glass on the table next to us so I don’t accidentally spill any wine and can fully concentrate on his movements. And he’s mastered every caress, every lick. Ezra’s driving me crazy, and he hasn’t even parted my folds yet, just licking and kissing them. He ignores my throbbing clit that is screaming for attention, and keeps licking along my lower lips. My panting becomes more and more pleading. I also push my pelvis toward him, demanding to finally feel his tongue inside me. I want him to fuck me with his tongue and to reach my release. At this moment, I want nothing more than to come on his tongue and moan his name.

Unexpectedly, I feel his fingers stroking my wet pussy as I feel my juices leaking.

“God!” I moan hoarsely, begging him with one word to give me what I crave so much.

At this moment, I don’t care about my surroundings; I only feel his tongue as it slowly slides between my folds and his finger as it slowly pushes its way into my tightness.

Oh God, that feels so good! I want more, so much more, and yet Ezra remains patient. He plays with me and my excitement. Tortures me and yet give me exactly what I need. Because right now, it’s all about me and my pleasure. Not his. This isn’t a quick fuck where I’m used and left hanging. No. This is about taking me to the edge, dangling me over it until I’m consumed with desire, smiling, facing the abyss, and willing myself down.

Ezra pushes one finger inside me and bends it in precisely the right place. There it is, my throbbing desire waiting to be unleashed.

Groaning, I throw my head back and press my shoulders into the chair, only to push myself toward Ezra’s mouth further.

He’s fucking me with his finger, hitting the right spot every time. His lips and tongue suck and lick my pulsing clit. My moans continue to increase as I hastily open my robe completely and cup my breast with one hand. My nipples are hard, and when I take one between my index finger and thumb and twirl it firmly, Ezra sucks so hard on my clit that I explode on the spot.

Completely caught up in this frenzy, I let myself fall back into my chair, panting and out of breath. My thighs are wet, as are my fingers and my breasts. The throbbing gradually subsides, and the tension is gone, finally giving me back my inner peace.

I am so deeply relaxed that I smile contentedly as I sink deeper into the wicker chair with my eyes closed. The next moment, a wince runs through me as if I had fallen into a short sleep and woken up again. Startled, I look around and realize, to my horror, that I am alone. Irritated, I look down at myself and try to put the missing pieces of the puzzle together because wasn’t Ezra here just a few minutes ago? There’s no way he could have disappeared so quickly. Or could he?

I look down at myself. My robe is wide open; my nipples are still slightly red from the friction. I can see it clearly in the soft glow of the fairy lights. There’s my hand between my legs, which makes me wonder a little because I can’t remember touching myself. But the moisture on my fingers claims otherwise.

I look around my dark garden again to see if I’m truly alone. There is no one to be seen.

Confused, I clutch my head and try to wrap my mind around what has happened.

Have I just imagined it? Fantasized? I furrow my eyebrows and run my hands over my face in confusion. I should get some sleep. The wine was probably too much, after all. I should go to bed and forget all this.