The leather couch sighed under me as I shifted closer, the space between us closing until the heat from his thigh bled through the thin cotton of my skirt. My heart was a frantic drum against my ribs, so loud I was certain he could hear it over the low murmur of the television. This is it. Don’t let him look away.I let my knee drift, a seemingly casual movement, until it pressed firmly against the denim of his jeans. A simple point of contact that sent a jolt straight through me. I saw his eyes flick down for a fraction of a second, a quick, almost imperceptible glance at my leg before he fixed his gaze back on the screen. He saw. He definitely saw.“Why are you so quiet?” I asked, my voice a low, teasing murmur. I leaned forward, bending just enough so the neckline of my top gaped open, offering him a deliberate view. “Do I make you nervous, Alex?”He let out a soft, breathy chuckle, a sound that vibrated through the cushion we shared. His eyes remained forward, but a muscle feathered in his jaw. “You’re dangerous, you know that?”The words, low and husky, landed directly in the pit of my stomach, a live wire of pure need. Dangerous. He thought I was dangerous. A slow, confident smile touched my lips. “Maybe I want to be dangerous.”My hand found the solid muscle of his thigh, my fingers pressing down in a slow, circles. I felt him tense, a solid statue under my touch. I kept my eyes locked on his profile, watching the internal battle play out in the tight set of his mouth, the rapid pulse at the base of his throat. Look at me. Acknowledge this.And then I saw it. The unmistakable swell straining against the fly of his shorts, a clear, undeniable answer to every suggestive glance and ‘accidental’ bend I’d ever made. A thrill, hot and sharp, shot through me. Finally. After all this time, he’s hard for me.My breath hitched as I slowly, so slowly, slid my palm over the thick length of him. The fabric was warm, almost hot, and I could feel the rigid outline beneath. I gave a gentle, testing squeeze. “Oh, god,” I whispered, the words escaping me in a rush of awe. “You feel… incredible.”A low, guttural groan ripped from his chest, a sound of pure, unleashed want. His hand snapped up, his fingers wrapping around my wrist. But he didn’t push me away. His grip was firm, almost painful, an anchor in the rising storm, but it wasn’t a rejection. It was a confirmation. He was holding on for dear life.His other hand came up, his thumb brushing my lower lip, a touch so unexpectedly tender it made my chest ache. His eyes, dark and full of a fire I’d only ever dreamed of, finally met mine. “We can’t,” he breathed, but the words were a weak protest against the hunger in his gaze.“We already are,” I countered, leaning into his touch. I shifted my body, turning to face him more fully on the couch, my skirt riding up higher on my thighs. The air between us crackled, thick and heavy with a tension that had been building for years.He moved then, his free hand coming to cradle the back of my head, his fingers tangling in my hair. He pulled me in, not with brute force, but with an intoxicating slowness that made every second an agony of anticipation. His lips found mine, and it was nothing like I’d imagined. It wasn’t polite or careful. It was deep and searching, a kiss that tasted of mint and restraint finally snapping.I met his hunger with my own, my mouth opening under his, my free hand coming up to clutch at his shirt, fisting the soft cotton. The kiss deepened, grew more frantic. His tongue swept against mine, and a moan vibrated from his throat into mine. The hand on my wrist slid down to intertwine his fingers with mine, pulling our joined hands away, his other hand still holding me firmly in place by my hair.He broke the kiss, both of us breathing raggedly. His forehead rested against mine, his eyes screwed shut. “Lena is just…” he rasped.“I know,” I whispered, brushing my lips against his jaw, feeling the stubble scratch my sensitive skin. “I don’t care.”My hand, now free, drifted back to the hard ridge in his shorts, my fingers tracing the outline with a feather-light touch that made him shudder. I could feel the dampness soaking through my own panties, a desperate, aching pulse between my legs that matched the frantic rhythm of my heart. I wanted to feel his skin, to see him, to—The distinct, metallic creak of the bathroom door opening echoed down the hall.The sound of footsteps padding down the hallway snapped me out of my daze. My heart still raced, but now it was fueled by panic rather than desire. I glanced frantically at the couch, realizing with a jolt that my underwear was still tangled in the cushions. I must have slipped them off in the heat of the moment without even noticing. My cheeks burned as I scrambled to grab them, but Alex’s hand shot out, stopping me.“Don’t,” he hissed under his breath, his voice tight with urgency. He yanked a throw pillow from the other end of the couch and tossed it over the spot, covering any evidence. His eyes met mine, wide and wild, and I nodded quickly, shoving the forgotten lace into my pocket as discreetly as I could.We both bolted for the kitchen, our breaths shallow and uneven. The cool tile floor grounded me as I leaned against the counter, trying to steady myself. Alex stood a few feet away, his back to me, his shoulders rising and falling with each unsteady breath. I could still feel the ghost of his hands on me, the heat of his kiss lingering on my lips.From the living room, Lena’s voice carried into the kitchen. “Hey, did you guys spill something? There’s a weird… stain on the couch.”My stomach dropped. Oh no. I hadn’t even thought about that. My eyes shot to Alex, who had gone completely still. His jaw tightened, and he raked a hand through his hair in frustration.“Uh, must’ve been soda or something,” he called back, his voice casual but strained. “I’ll clean it up later.”Lena didn’t respond, but the sound of her shuffling around the living room made my pulse spike. Alex turned to me, his expression a mix of guilt and something darker—something that made my insides twist.“This was a mistake,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. But the way his eyes flicked to my mouth told a different story.I swallowed hard, the weight of what we’d done—and what could’ve happened—settling heavily between us.”

The leather couch sighed under me as I shifted closer, the space between us closing until the heat from his thigh bled through the thin cotton of my skirt. My heart was a frantic drum against my ribs, so loud I was certain he could hear it over the low murmur of the television. This is it. Don’t let him look away.

I let my knee drift, a seemingly casual movement, until it pressed firmly against the denim of his jeans. A simple point of contact that sent a jolt straight through me. I saw his eyes flick down for a fraction of a second, a quick, almost imperceptible glance at my leg before he fixed his gaze back on the screen. He saw. He definitely saw.

“Why are you so quiet?” I asked, my voice a low, teasing murmur. I leaned forward, bending just enough so the neckline of my top gaped open, offering him a deliberate view. “Do I make you nervous, Alex?”

He let out a soft, breathy chuckle, a sound that vibrated through the cushion we shared. His eyes remained forward, but a muscle feathered in his jaw. “You’re dangerous, you know that?”

The words, low and husky, landed directly in the pit of my stomach, a live wire of pure need. Dangerous. He thought I was dangerous. A slow, confident smile touched my lips. “Maybe I want to be dangerous.”

My hand found the solid muscle of his thigh, my fingers pressing down in a slow, circles. I felt him tense, a solid statue under my touch. I kept my eyes locked on his profile, watching the internal battle play out in the tight set of his mouth, the rapid pulse at the base of his throat. Look at me. Acknowledge this.

And then I saw it. The unmistakable swell straining against the fly of his shorts, a clear, undeniable answer to every suggestive glance and ‘accidental’ bend I’d ever made. A thrill, hot and sharp, shot through me. Finally. After all this time, he’s hard for me.

My breath hitched as I slowly, so slowly, slid my palm over the thick length of him. The fabric was warm, almost hot, and I could feel the rigid outline beneath. I gave a gentle, testing squeeze. “Oh, god,” I whispered, the words escaping me in a rush of awe. “You feel… incredible.”

A low, guttural groan ripped from his chest, a sound of pure, unleashed want. His hand snapped up, his fingers wrapping around my wrist. But he didn’t push me away. His grip was firm, almost painful, an anchor in the rising storm, but it wasn’t a rejection. It was a confirmation. He was holding on for dear life.

His other hand came up, his thumb brushing my lower lip, a touch so unexpectedly tender it made my chest ache. His eyes, dark and full of a fire I’d only ever dreamed of, finally met mine. “We can’t,” he breathed, but the words were a weak protest against the hunger in his gaze.

“We already are,” I countered, leaning into his touch. I shifted my body, turning to face him more fully on the couch, my skirt riding up higher on my thighs. The air between us crackled, thick and heavy with a tension that had been building for years.

He moved then, his free hand coming to cradle the back of my head, his fingers tangling in my hair. He pulled me in, not with brute force, but with an intoxicating slowness that made every second an agony of anticipation. His lips found mine, and it was nothing like I’d imagined. It wasn’t polite or careful. It was deep and searching, a kiss that tasted of mint and restraint finally snapping.

I met his hunger with my own, my mouth opening under his, my free hand coming up to clutch at his shirt, fisting the soft cotton. The kiss deepened, grew more frantic. His tongue swept against mine, and a moan vibrated from his throat into mine. The hand on my wrist slid down to intertwine his fingers with mine, pulling our joined hands away, his other hand still holding me firmly in place by my hair.

He broke the kiss, both of us breathing raggedly. His forehead rested against mine, his eyes screwed shut. “Lena is just…” he rasped.

“I know,” I whispered, brushing my lips against his jaw, feeling the stubble scratch my sensitive skin. “I don’t care.”

My hand, now free, drifted back to the hard ridge in his shorts, my fingers tracing the outline with a feather-light touch that made him shudder. I could feel the dampness soaking through my own panties, a desperate, aching pulse between my legs that matched the frantic rhythm of my heart. I wanted to feel his skin, to see him, to—

The distinct, metallic creak of the bathroom door opening echoed down the hall.

The sound of footsteps padding down the hallway snapped me out of my daze. My heart still raced, but now it was fueled by panic rather than desire. I glanced frantically at the couch, realizing with a jolt that my underwear was still tangled in the cushions. I must have slipped them off in the heat of the moment without even noticing. My cheeks burned as I scrambled to grab them, but Alex’s hand shot out, stopping me.

“Don’t,” he hissed under his breath, his voice tight with urgency. He yanked a throw pillow from the other end of the couch and tossed it over the spot, covering any evidence. His eyes met mine, wide and wild, and I nodded quickly, shoving the forgotten lace into my pocket as discreetly as I could.

We both bolted for the kitchen, our breaths shallow and uneven. The cool tile floor grounded me as I leaned against the counter, trying to steady myself. Alex stood a few feet away, his back to me, his shoulders rising and falling with each unsteady breath. I could still feel the ghost of his hands on me, the heat of his kiss lingering on my lips.

From the living room, Lena’s voice carried into the kitchen. “Hey, did you guys spill something? There’s a weird… stain on the couch.”

My stomach dropped. Oh no. I hadn’t even thought about that. My eyes shot to Alex, who had gone completely still. His jaw tightened, and he raked a hand through his hair in frustration.

“Uh, must’ve been soda or something,” he called back, his voice casual but strained. “I’ll clean it up later.”

Lena didn’t respond, but the sound of her shuffling around the living room made my pulse spike. Alex turned to me, his expression a mix of guilt and something darker—something that made my insides twist.

“This was a mistake,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. But the way his eyes flicked to my mouth told a different story.

I swallowed hard, the weight of what we’d done—and what could’ve happened—settling heavily between us.

”

A forbidden attraction between a woman and her friend's husband comes to a head when she finally gets him alone, leading to a heated encounter on the living room couch. The woman's persistent attempts to seduce him finally pay off, resulting in a passionate, risky tryst that leaves both of them breathless and desperate for more.

I seduced my friend’s husband and let him cum in me while she was still in the house

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