Chapter 2: The First Taste of Sin
The space between them vanished. It wasn’t a gentle closing but a sudden, electric collapse. Aubrey stepped into him, her body a slight, trembling pressure against his chest. She rose on her toes, her bruised lips finding his with a desperation that felt like a punch to the gut.
The kiss wasn’t sweet. It was salt and rain and the copper taste of the blood from her split lip. It was years of stifled glances and quiet agony poured into a single, searing connection. Chase froze for a fraction of a second, the last shred of his conscience screaming a warning. Then his hands came up, one cradling the back of her damp head, the other splaying across the small of her back, crushing her to him. He answered her desperation with his own, his tongue sliding against hers, claiming the warmth of her mouth.
When she broke the kiss, they were both gasping. Her hazel eyes were dark, pupil-swollen, staring up at him with a feral clarity that erased the fragile teacher he knew. “I want you to fuck me,” she whispered, the words humid against his mouth. “Right now. Please, Chase.”
Her hand slid down between them, palm cupping the hard, aching line of his cock through his denim jeans. She rubbed him, a firm, knowing stroke that made his hips jerk forward involuntarily. A low groan ripped from his throat.
He didn’t speak. Words were useless now. He walked her backward, their legs tangled, until the backs of her knees hit the edge of the worn couch. She fell onto the cushions, pulling him down with her. The amber lamp light carved golden valleys across her throat, illuminated the purple shadow on her collarbone. He kissed that bruise, his lips gentle, then his tongue tracing the ugly mark as if he could heal it by taste.
“Don’t be careful,” she breathed, her fingers threading into his hair, not guiding, but clutching. “I don’t need careful.”
He sat back on his heels, kneeling between her legs on the floor, and looked at her. The oversized sweatshirt had ridden up her thighs. He hooked his fingers in the waistband of the borrowed sweatpants and pulled them down, taking her plain cotton panties with them in one rough motion. She lifted her hips to help, the movement eager, shameless. The garment fell to the floor, a forgotten puddle of fabric.
She was exposed to him, completely. In the dim light, she was pale gold and shadow. He stared, his breath catching. He’d imagined this, a thousand times, in the quiet darkness of his own bed. The reality was a brutal, beautiful shock.
“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice ragged.
She spread her legs wider, an open invitation. “Look at you,” she shot back, her eyes on the prominent bulge in his jeans. “Now get those off.”
He stood, fumbling with his belt, his button, his zipper. His hands felt thick, clumsy. He shoved his jeans and boxer briefs down just enough to free himself. His cock sprang out, thick and rigid, the tip already glistening. He saw her eyes lock onto it, her tongue wetting her lips.
Before he could move, she leaned forward off the couch, her hand wrapping around his shaft. Her touch was firm, experimental. She stroked him once, twice, her thumb smearing the bead of moisture over the swollen head. A sharp hiss escaped his clenched teeth.
“Aubrey…”
“I want to taste you,” she said, and it wasn’t a request. She leaned further, her silky hair brushing his stomach, and took him into her mouth.
The heat was instantaneous, overwhelming. Her mouth was hot and wet and impossibly soft. She didn’t tease. She took him deep, her head bobbing, a muffled moan vibrating around his flesh. Chase braced a hand against the wall, his head falling back. The visual was devastating—his best friend’s wife on her knees, her lips stretched around his cock, her eyes closed in concentration. The wrongness of it fed the fire, made it burn hotter, cleaner.
“God… fuck, just like that,” he choked out.
He let her set the pace for a minute, the slick sounds filling the quiet room, harmonizing with the rain. But the need was coiling too tight, too low in his gut. He couldn’t wait. He tugged gently on her hair. “That’s enough. I need to be inside you. Now.”
She released him with a wet pop, her lips slick and swollen. She fell back onto the cushions, pulling the sweatshirt over her head in one fluid motion. Now she was naked, completely, on his couch. Her body was slim, her breasts small and high with taut, pink nipples. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
Chase covered her body with his, his weight settling between her thighs. The feeling of her bare skin against his stomach, his chest, was electric. He reached between them, guiding himself to her entrance. He felt the heat radiating from her, the slickness already coating her folds. He nudged against her, and her breath hitched.
“Look at me,” he commanded.
Her hazel eyes flew open, locking onto his. In them, he saw the storm, the fear, the desperate wanting. He saw the end of a long, lonely road.
He pushed inside.
She was tight, a silken, clutching heat that made him see stars. He sank in slowly, stretching her, feeling every inch of her give way to him. A sharp cry tore from her throat, but her legs wrapped around his hips, her heels digging into his ass, pulling him deeper.
“Oh, god… Chase…” Her voice was broken.
He was buried to the hilt, fully sheathed inside her. He stayed there, motionless, for a long moment, forehead pressed to hers, feeling the frantic beat of her heart against his chest. This was the line, irrevocably crossed. This was the betrayal, warm and living and clenched around him.
Then he began to move.
He set a deep, relentless rhythm, pulling almost all the way out before driving back in. The slap of skin on skin, the wet, filthy sounds of their joining, were obscenely loud. Each thrust jolted her body up the couch. He hooked an arm under her knee, hiking her leg higher, opening her wider, changing the angle. The next plunge drew a shattering scream from her.
“There! Right there, fuck, please!”
He hammered into that spot, his own control fraying. The room smelled of sex and sweat and rain. Her nails scored down his back, sure to leave marks. Her pleas and moans were a continuous stream in his ear.
“You feel so good… so deep… give it to me, I want all of it…”
Her words undid him. The crude, hungry sounds coming from her once-gentle mouth were the ultimate aphrodisiac. He fucked her harder, the couch squeaking in protest against the wall. He could feel the tension coiling in her, her inner muscles fluttering wildly around his cock.
“Come for me,” he grunted, his voice raw. “Let me feel you come.”
She shattered with a raw, guttural cry, her body bowing off the cushions, her channel gripping and milking him in violent pulses. The sensation tore his own release from him. With a final, brutal thrust, he buried himself as deep as he could go and came. A hot, rushing flood emptying into her, pump after pump, his groan a ragged thing against the side of her neck.
He collapsed on top of her, spent, his weight pressing her into the couch. They were both slick, breathing in ragged, discordant gasps. The rain continued its gentle patter. The lamp still glowed.
Slowly, the world seeped back in. The feel of her heart hammering against his. The cool air on his sweaty back. The profound, echoing silence of the condo.
He shifted his weight, rolling to the side but keeping an arm around her, pulling her against him. Her head found the hollow of his shoulder. Her wedding ring, that twisted band of gold, was a cold circle against his skin.
Neither of them spoke. There was nothing to say that wouldn’t make it small or cheap. He traced idle patterns on her bare arm. She was here. She was his. For this night, at least.
Her breathing evened out, deepened. He thought she might have fallen asleep. Then her voice, small and clear in the darkness, asked, “What happens tomorrow?”
Chase stared at the ceiling, at the shadow the lamp threw. He had no answer. Tomorrow was a cliff edge. Tomorrow, Teigan would call. Tomorrow, the consequences would begin to gather like storm clouds.
He kissed the top of her head, inhaling the scent of her hair, his own scent on her skin. “We’ll figure it out,” he whispered, a promise he had no right to make.
But for now, in the warm, spent darkness, with her fertile body curled trustingly against his, it was enough.