“You want me to stop now?” His voice was low, dripping with a taunt that made my skin crawl and yet… God, it made my thighs clench. His fingers tightened around my throat, his other hand gripping my hip hard enough to leave bruises. “After all this time, after everything you’ve done to get here—you think you can back out? You think I’ll let you?”I gasped, my hands clawing at his wrist, but there was no real fight in me. My body betrayed me, shivering under his touch, aching for more even as my mind screamed that this was wrong. So fucking wrong. But the way he looked at me—those dark eyes burning with something feral, primal—it made my stomach twist in a way that felt too good to ignore.“I-I—” The words caught in my throat, choked off by the pressure of his fingers. My pulse hammered against his palm, desperate and wild, as if it were begging him to tighten his grip even more. And when he did—when he pressed just hard enough to make my vision blur—I moaned. Soft and broken, but unmistakable.His lips curled into a smirk. “That’s what I thought.”---It hadn’t started like this. Of course it hadn’t. This… this madness had crept up on me slowly, insidiously, like a poison coursing through my veins until I couldn’t remember what it felt like to be clean. To be sane. It began with him—my husband’s protégé, his pride and joy. Marcus. Sweet, brilliant Marcus with his boyish charm and those damn dimples that made every woman in the office swoon. Including me. At first, it was innocent enough. A shared glance here, a lingering touch there. Harmless flirtation, or so I told myself. I was married, after all. Happily married. Or at least, I had been.But then the late nights at the office turned into something else entirely. He’d stay behind, supposedly to finish up work, but I knew better. I could feel it in the air between us—the tension, the heat. It crackled like electricity, pulling me toward him even as my conscience screamed at me to run.And then one night, he crossed the line. We were alone in the conference room, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, casting harsh shadows across his face. He leaned in close, his breath warm against my ear as he whispered, “You’re driving me crazy, Nadia.”I should have pushed him away. I should have walked out right then and there. But instead, I stayed. And when his lips brushed against mine, soft and tentative at first, I kissed him back. Hard. Desperate. Like a woman starved. Because in that moment, I realized I was. Starved for something raw, something dangerous. Something that wasn’t my husband.---And now, here we were.Marcus shoved me backward, the edge of the desk biting into my lower back as he lifted me onto it. His hands were everywhere—rough and impatient, tearing at my clothes like they offended him. My blouse ripped, buttons scattering across the floor, and I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything except the way he made me feel. Dirty. Used. Alive.“Look at you,” he growled, his fingers tangling in my hair as he yanked my head back. “So fucking desperate for it. You’re pathetic, you know that?”A shudder ran through me, my hips jerking involuntarily as I whined, “Please…”“Please what?” He smirked, leaning down to nip at my neck, his teeth sharp and unforgiving. “Use your words, Nadia. Tell me what you want.”I choked on a sob, my nails digging into his shoulders as I whispered, “I want you to fuck me.”He laughed—a dark, cruel sound that sent a thrill racing down my spine. “Good girl.”And then he was inside me, filling me completely, stretching me in ways I hadn’t thought possible. My head fell back, a strangled cry escaping my lips as he rocked into me, each thrust harder and deeper than the last. It hurt—God, it hurt—but it was the kind of pain that twisted into pleasure, making my toes curl and my body arch against his.“Fuck, you’re tight,” he groaned, his fingers tightening around my throat again as he ground into me. “Bet your husband doesn’t fuck you like this, does he? Bet he doesn’t make you scream.”He was right. My husband—sweet, loving Ethan—had never made me feel like this. Never made me feel so utterly consumed, so completely out of control. And that thought alone was enough to push me over the edge, my orgasm crashing over me like a wave, leaving me gasping and trembling in its wake.But Marcus wasn’t done. Not even close.He pulled out suddenly, leaving me empty and aching, before spinning me around and bending me over the desk. My cheek pressed against the cool surface, my ass raised high as he spread my legs wider. “Beg for it,” he ordered, his voice rough and commanding.“Please,” I whimpered, my body trembling with need. “Please, Marcus, I need you—”He slammed back into me without warning, cutting off my words with a guttural moan. His pace was brutal, relentless, each thrust driving me closer to the edge again. And when he finally came, his release hot and deep inside me, I felt something shift. Something dark and irrevocable.This wasn’t just sex anymore. This was corruption. Seduction. And I didn’t care.---The sound of his zipper brought me back to the present, my body still trembling from the aftershocks of my orgasm. Marcus stood over me, his pants undone, his cock still hard and glistening with my wetness. He grabbed a fistful of my hair, forcing me to look up at him as he said—“Open your mouth.”

Nadia, married to Ethan, begins an affair with Marcus, her husband's protégé, starting with flirtation and escalating to a physical encounter in the office. Marcus becomes increasingly dominant and aggressive during their sexual encounters, leaving Nadia conflicted but unable to resist. The chapter ends with Marcus asserting control over Nadia, demanding she comply with his commands.

_“You want me to stop now?”_ His voice was low, dripping with a taunt that made my skin crawl and yet… _God_, it made my thighs clench. His fingers tightened around my throat, his other hand gripping my hip hard enough to leave bruises. “After all this time, after everything you’ve done to get here—you think you can back out? You think I’ll let you?”

I gasped, my hands clawing at his wrist, but there was no real fight in me. My body betrayed me, shivering under his touch, aching for more even as my mind screamed that this was wrong. So fucking wrong. But the way he looked at me—those dark eyes burning with something feral, primal—it made my stomach twist in a way that felt too good to ignore.

“I-I—” The words caught in my throat, choked off by the pressure of his fingers. My pulse hammered against his palm, desperate and wild, as if it were begging him to tighten his grip even more. And when he did—when he pressed just hard enough to make my vision blur—I moaned. Soft and broken, but unmistakable.

His lips curled into a smirk. “That’s what I thought.”

---

It hadn’t started like this. Of course it hadn’t. This… this madness had crept up on me slowly, insidiously, like a poison coursing through my veins until I couldn’t remember what it felt like to be clean. To be sane. 

It began with him—my husband’s protégé, his pride and joy. Marcus. Sweet, brilliant Marcus with his boyish charm and those damn dimples that made every woman in the office swoon. Including me. At first, it was innocent enough. A shared glance here, a lingering touch there. Harmless flirtation, or so I told myself. I was married, after all. Happily married. Or at least, I had been.

But then the late nights at the office turned into something else entirely. He’d stay behind, supposedly to finish up work, but I knew better. I could feel it in the air between us—the tension, the heat. It crackled like electricity, pulling me toward him even as my conscience screamed at me to run.

And then one night, he crossed the line. We were alone in the conference room, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, casting harsh shadows across his face. He leaned in close, his breath warm against my ear as he whispered, “You’re driving me crazy, Nadia.”

I should have pushed him away. I should have walked out right then and there. But instead, I stayed. And when his lips brushed against mine, soft and tentative at first, I kissed him back. Hard. Desperate. Like a woman starved. Because in that moment, I realized I was. Starved for something raw, something dangerous. Something that wasn’t my husband.

---

And now, here we were.

Marcus shoved me backward, the edge of the desk biting into my lower back as he lifted me onto it. His hands were everywhere—rough and impatient, tearing at my clothes like they offended him. My blouse ripped, buttons scattering across the floor, and I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything except the way he made me feel. Dirty. Used. *Alive*.

“Look at you,” he growled, his fingers tangling in my hair as he yanked my head back. “So fucking desperate for it. You’re pathetic, you know that?”

A shudder ran through me, my hips jerking involuntarily as I whined, “Please…”

“Please what?” He smirked, leaning down to nip at my neck, his teeth sharp and unforgiving. “Use your words, Nadia. Tell me what you want.”

I choked on a sob, my nails digging into his shoulders as I whispered, “I want you to fuck me.”

He laughed—a dark, cruel sound that sent a thrill racing down my spine. “Good girl.”

And then he was inside me, filling me completely, stretching me in ways I hadn’t thought possible. My head fell back, a strangled cry escaping my lips as he rocked into me, each thrust harder and deeper than the last. It hurt—God, it hurt—but it was the kind of pain that twisted into pleasure, making my toes curl and my body arch against his.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he groaned, his fingers tightening around my throat again as he ground into me. “Bet your husband doesn’t fuck you like this, does he? Bet he doesn’t make you scream.”

He was right. My husband—sweet, loving Ethan—had never made me feel like this. Never made me feel so utterly consumed, so completely out of control. And that thought alone was enough to push me over the edge, my orgasm crashing over me like a wave, leaving me gasping and trembling in its wake.

But Marcus wasn’t done. Not even close.

He pulled out suddenly, leaving me empty and aching, before spinning me around and bending me over the desk. My cheek pressed against the cool surface, my ass raised high as he spread my legs wider. “Beg for it,” he ordered, his voice rough and commanding.

“Please,” I whimpered, my body trembling with need. “Please, Marcus, I need you—”

He slammed back into me without warning, cutting off my words with a guttural moan. His pace was brutal, relentless, each thrust driving me closer to the edge again. And when he finally came, his release hot and deep inside me, I felt something shift. Something dark and irrevocable.

This wasn’t just sex anymore. This was corruption. Seduction. And I didn’t care.

---

The sound of his zipper brought me back to the present, my body still trembling from the aftershocks of my orgasm. Marcus stood over me, his pants undone, his cock still hard and glistening with my wetness. He grabbed a fistful of my hair, forcing me to look up at him as he said—

__“Open your mouth.”__

Cheating wife at work

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