Chapter 3: Apologies
The heavy oak door slammed shut behind Steve, the sound echoing through the too-quiet house. The sterile scent of the office – ozone and her arousal – still clung to his nostrils, warring with the familiar smells of lemon polish and the chicken stock simmering on the stove. He leaned against the door, the cool wood pressing into his forehead. Lunch lay forgotten, a dark smudge on the pristine carpet where the bag had landed. His hands trembled.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
His phone lit up on the hallway table. Natalie’s name flashed, followed by a series of rapid-fire texts.
> N: Bit stressed after that scene. The Henderson pitch was crucial. Needed that release.
> N: Apologies if it was… abrupt.
> N: Don’t be sulky.
> N: Got a surprise for you tonight. Making it up to you.
He read them, the words blurring. ‘Abrupt’. ‘Sulky’. ‘Making it up to you’. Like she’d spilled coffee on his shirt, not forced him to watch her subordinate eat her out in her fucking office. The hollow ache in his chest deepened into a cold, hard knot. He shoved the phone away without responding, the silence of the house pressing in, louder than the city noise outside.
He cleaned. Furiously. He scoured the already gleaming counters, reorganised the pantry with unnecessary precision, folded laundry with sharp, mechanical movements. Anything to burn the image from his retinas: Natalie sprawled, demanding; Jack’s desperate face buried in her; the raw, wet sounds. The simmering resentment he usually managed to contain bubbled dangerously close to the surface. Neglected. Unappreciated. Used. The words pulsed in time with his heartbeat.
The hours crawled. He couldn’t eat. He paced. He tried to watch TV, but the images meant nothing. His phone buzzed intermittently with more messages Natalie clearly didn’t expect answers to. The sun dipped below the city skyline, painting the living room in long, accusing shadows.
Then, the electronic chime of the front door unlocking. Steve froze mid-pace, his body tense as coiled wire. She was back. And she wasn’t alone.
The door opened. Natalie breezed in first, radiating the cool confidence that had been absent during her office orgasm. She’d changed into sleek black trousers and a silky crimson blouse, her makeup refreshed. Behind her, looking nervous but trying to project eager professionalism, stood Jack. He smoothed down his tie, avoiding Steve’s eyes, his cheeks flushing a deep red.
"Evening," Natalie announced, dropping her briefcase by the door. She scanned the immaculate living room with a cursory glance. "Smells good. Hope it’s ready."
Steve stared, the cold knot in his chest tightening painfully. He’d almost expected her to bring Jack, but seeing him here, in their home, after the afternoon’s violation, was a fresh wave of acid in his gut. Without a word, he turned towards the kitchen, the urge to walk out, to slam the door behind him, almost overwhelming.
"Steve." Natalie’s voice stopped him, sharp but with an undercurrent of… something else. Amusement? Command. "Don’t go. Jack’s staying."
Steve turned slowly. "Why?" His voice was flat, stripped of any inflection.
Natalie stepped closer, a small, calculating smile playing on her lips. "Because tonight," she said, her gaze locking onto his, "I’m making it up to you. Like I texted. Consider it your break." She gestured towards Jack. "Jack’s going to take care of the first part. The warm-up. That way, you don’t have to eat me out tonight."
Steve blinked. Confusion warred with the simmering anger. "What?"
"You heard me," Natalie stated, moving to the plush, oversized sofa. She sank down with regal grace, crossing her legs. "I know you get… frustrated. That you rarely get to finish properly inside me. Because I need my clit licked to cum." She uncrossed her legs, spreading them deliberately, her gaze never leaving Steve’s. "So, tonight, we optimize."
She patted her lap. "Jack? Get started."
Jack hesitated for only a fraction of a second, then moved with practiced obedience. He knelt before the sofa, his hands going to the clasp of Natalie’s trousers. His fingers fumbled slightly, betraying his nerves, but Natalie made no move to help, just watched Steve with that same unnerving calm. Jack peeled the black fabric down her legs, revealing the same black lace panties Steve had seen earlier. Jack hooked his fingers into the sides and pulled them down too, revealing Natalie’s thick, dark bush, glistening faintly even in the low light.
"Go on," Natalie commanded softly, shifting her hips forward on the cushion. "Get me wet. Get me ready for Steve."
Jack leaned in, burying his face between her thighs. The wet, sucking sound – the sound that had haunted Steve all afternoon – filled the quiet room again. Natalie sighed, a sound of pure contentment, her head tipping back against the sofa. Her hand settled on Jack’s head, not forcing him this time, just resting possessively.
Steve watched, rooted to the spot. Anger warred with a sick, traitorous twist of arousal in his gut. The sight of Jack servicing her, the sounds, the scent of her musk beginning to permeate the air… it was both repulsive and mesmerizing. Natalie’s eyes fluttered open, finding Steve again. Her lips curved into a smile.
"See?" she murmured, her voice thick. "He’s very thorough. Knows exactly how I like it." She moaned softly as Jack’s tongue worked over her clit. "Oh, yes… just like that… keep going, Jack… get my cunt nice and slick for your boss." Her gaze sharpened on Steve. "Strip."
The command cut through the haze. Steve stared at her. "What?"
"Strip, Steve," Natalie repeated, her voice hardening. "Or the deal’s off. You want to fuck me? Show me you’re ready." She gasped as Jack intensified his efforts. "Fuck! That’s it… deeper. Lick inside… oh god…"
A flush of heat, humiliating and intense, swept up Steve’s neck. He moved mechanically, fingers trembling as he unbuttoned his shirt. He pulled it off, then his t-shirt underneath. His jeans and boxers followed, dropping to the floor. He stood naked in his own living room, exposed, while another man licked his wife’s pussy on their couch.
Natalie’s eyes roamed over him approvingly, lingering on his erection, which stood rigid despite the turmoil inside him. "Good," she purred.
Natalie’s approving gaze lingered on Steve’s nakedness, a stark contrast to Jack’s muffled groans against her wet cunt. "Come here, Steve," she commanded, her voice thick with building pleasure. "Closer. I want to feel you."
Steve took a hesitant step forward, the plush carpet soft beneath his bare feet. The humid scent of her arousal mixed with Jack’s sweat hit him, pungent and undeniable. He stopped just within reach, his cock twitching almost painfully erect, a traitor to his churning anger and humiliation.
"Give it to me," Natalie breathed, her eyes locked on his shaft. She reached out, her fingers brushing the sensitive underside before wrapping firmly around his rigid length. Her touch was possessive, claiming. "That’s it. Hold still."
Jack’s slurping intensified, his tongue driving hard against Natalie’s clit, his nose buried deep in her dark, thick bush. Her hips bucked off the sofa cushion, pressing her cunt harder onto his face. "Fuck, Jack! Oh god... yes!" she gasped, her knuckles whitening where she gripped the sofa arm. "Keep going... harder... make me cum all over your fucking face!"
She tightened her grip on Steve’s cock, her thumb roughly smearing the bead of pre-cum leaking from his tip. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps. "Feel that, Steve? Feel me getting ready to explode because some other man is eating my pussy?" Her eyes blazed into his, daring him to look away. "I’m gonna drench him."
A guttural moan tore from her throat. Her back arched sharply off the sofa. "Oh FUCK! YES! RIGHT THERE! DON’T STOP!" Her thighs clamped hard around Jack’s head, trapping him. Jets of her release flooded over Jack's chin and cheeks, soaking his frantic tongue and nose. Steve felt the powerful spasms vibrating through her hand still clamped possessively around his cock.
She held him like a leash as she rode out the crashing wave, shuddering violently. "Suck it, Jack," she panted, grinding her sopping wet pussy down onto his face. "Swallow my fucking cum." Jack’s muffled, desperate sounds of obedience filled the room. Only when the tremors subsided, leaving her breathing heavily, did her grip on Steve loosen slightly. She looked utterly spent, yet utterly victorious.
Slowly, deliberately, Natalie pulled Jack’s face away. He remained kneeling, panting, glistening with her juices, his eyes unfocused. She patted his cheek almost dismissively, smearing more wetness. "Good boy." Then her sharp gaze snapped back to Steve. "Okay. Break time’s over for you, darling." She effortlessly swung her legs off the sofa, standing on slightly shaky legs. "Sit. Right here."
She pointed to the damp spot on the sofa where she’d just been sitting. Steve hesitated, the humiliation scalding his skin. "Sit down, Steve," she repeated, the edge in her voice brooking no argument. He lowered himself stiffly onto the warm, wet cushion, the fabric clinging unpleasantly to his thighs.
Natalie stepped over him, positioning herself with her back to his face, her dripping pussy hovering inches above his rigid cock. She reached back, her fingers finding his shaft again, guiding it. "Get ready," she murmured. "This is what you wanted, isn’t it? To be inside me?"
Without waiting for an answer, she sank down swiftly, impaling herself on his entire length in one smooth, forceful motion. Steve gasped as her tight, slick heat engulfed him. She was impossibly wet, still swollen from her orgasm. "Oh fuck," he choked out, overwhelmed by the sudden, intense sensation.
"Shut up," she snapped, already beginning to move. She rode him hard, rising high then slamming back down, taking him deep with each thrust. The wet slap of flesh filled the air. Her ass bounced against his thighs. She faced forward, her gaze fixed on Jack, who still knelt on the floor, watching dazedly, his face slick. "Jack!" Natalie commanded, her voice strained with effort. "Get over here. Lick my clit. Now."
Jack scrambled forward on his knees. He pressed his face between her spread thighs, his tongue immediately darting out to find her engorged clit above where Steve was buried deep inside her. He licked furiously, lapping at the swollen nub, his nose nudging Steve’s balls. "Like that," Natalie groaned, her rhythm momentarily faltering as pleasure surged. "Harder... yes! Keep fucking me, Steve. Don't slow down."
Steve gripped her hips, trying to match her demanding pace, his own need building dangerously fast. The dual sensation – her tight channel gripping him, Jack’s relentless tongue working her clit – was overwhelming. Sweat slicked his chest where her back pressed against him. Natalie threw her head back, a low moan escaping her lips. "Feels so fucking good... my husband’s cock... my assistant’s tongue... perfect." She ground down hard, rotating her hips. "Make me cum again, Jack. Do it!" Her nails dug into Steve’s thighs as she demanded her pleasure, using them both without apology. Steve closed his eyes, lost in the raw, demanding rhythm, the scent of sex thick in the air, the only sound Natalie’s gasping commands and the slick, wet noises of their bodies joining.
Steve squeezed his eyes shut tighter, the rhythmic slap of Natalie’s ass against his thighs syncing with the frantic wet sounds Jack made between her legs. Her inner muscles clenched around his cock like a greedy fist with every downward plunge. "Faster, Steve," Natalie gasped, her voice ragged, her back slick with sweat against his chest. "Fuck me harder, goddamn it!" Jack’s tongue was a relentless, slippery pressure just above where Steve was buried impossibly deep.
The air was thick with the coppery tang of exertion, the heavy musk of Natalie’s arousal, and the faint, sharp scent of Jack’s sweat. Steve’s knuckles were white where he gripped Natalie’s hips, trying to anchor himself in the sensory overload. Her clit pulsed hot and swollen under Jack’s insistent mouth, triggering rippling contractions that milked Steve’s cock. "Jack! Right there! Don’t stop fucking licking!" she shrieked, bucking wildly, grinding her wetness down onto Steve’s shaft while forcing herself back onto Jack’s face. Pre-cum oozed from Steve’s tip, slicking the already drenched passage.
He couldn't hold back. The pressure built like a dam about to burst, every nerve screaming towards release. His balls tightened, drawing up hard against his body. A low groan tore from his throat, a sound of pure, desperate need. Natalie felt it, the subtle tremor running through him, the involuntary pulse deep inside her. Her eyes snapped open, locking onto Jack's glistening face for a split second before she threw her head back against Steve’s shoulder. "Inside me, Steve!" she commanded, her voice thick with imminent climax. "Cum inside my fuckin' pussy! Now! Fill me!" She slammed down hard, impaling herself to the hilt, demanding his surrender.
The command – the permission he’d craved yet never received – was the trigger. A raw, guttural cry ripped from Steve’s chest as his orgasm detonated. Thick, hot ropes of cum pulsed deep into her velvety warmth, jetting against her cervix with each powerful spasm. His vision whited out as pleasure, intense and almost painful, ripped through him, obliterating thought, resentment, everything but the overwhelming physical sensation of emptying himself completely inside her.
Natalie screamed, a sound of pure, feral triumph, as her own climax crashed over her seconds later. Her cunt convulsed violently around Steve’s still-spurting cock, milking every last drop, while Jack’s tongue worked furiously through her spasms, lapping at the mingled fluids. She shuddered violently, her body going rigid, nails digging deep crescent moons into Steve’s thighs.
Silence pressed in, heavy and humid, broken only by ragged gasps. Steve felt drained, hollow, his cock still twitching weakly inside her slick heat. Natalie slumped back against him, her chest heaving. Jack slowly withdrew his face, panting, his lips and chin glistening messily. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, avoiding looking directly at either of them.
Natalie shifted, pulling herself off Steve with a wet, sucking sound that echoed obscenely in the quiet room. A slick trail of their combined release glistened on his softening shaft. She stood on slightly unsteady legs, towering over both men. Her gaze, sharp and assessing even amidst the afterglow, swept over Steve, then Jack. "Good," she stated, the single word carrying the weight of a final verdict. She grabbed a throw pillow, wiping herself carelessly with it before tossing it aside onto the damp sofa spot.
Steve just sat there, the chill of the room starting to seep into his sweat-slicked skin. The emptiness inside him wasn't just physical now. Jack scrambled to his feet, awkwardly adjusting his rumpled clothes. Archer, should I...?"
"Go, Jack," Natalie said, already turning towards the hallway leading to the bedroom. "We're done. See you tomorrow. Early." Her tone brooked no argument, no lingering. Jack nodded mutely, grabbed his jacket, and practically fled towards the front door, the soft click of the latch loud in the stillness.
Steve remained on the sofa, naked, sticky, the lingering scent of sex thick in his nostrils. He stared at the closed door, then down at his own hands resting limply on his knees. The simmering resentment that had been momentarily drowned by the tidal wave of his orgasm began to bubble back to the surface, colder and harder than before. Filled her? She’d demanded it, taken it, like she took everything else. He felt used. Hollowed out. The unexpected gift of release felt less like a concession and more like another calculated move in a game he didn't understand. He heard the shower start in the master bathroom. Natalie hadn’t even looked back. The silence in the living room stretched, thick and suffocating, pressing down on him. His hands slowly clenched into tight, trembling fists on his thighs.