Arsen groans as he clutches my h*ps harder, his fingers leaving indentations on my skin, savagely filling me, erasing every single memory of Ben off my body. I hear my moans getting louder as he brings one of his hands to rub my cl*tincessantly.

I’m close, so close.

The phone rings again, and again, and again…

Never stopping. Taunting me with its music.

I don’t open my eyes. I don’t want to lose the rhythm, but my body has other ideas. Arsen grips my hands in his as he leans over me, his front pushing me all the way down so that I’m flat on my stomach, and regains the lost rhythm.

There are no words of love being whispered in his kitchen. No laughs. The noises filling this room are the frantic slapping of our bodies, his groans, and my moans.

And the f**king cellphone that won’t stop ringing.

He f**ks into me smoothly as his fingers find my clit, this time rubbing me without mercy. I can feel my cl**ax hovering above me, just waiting for that final push. I open my eyes and put my head down and look under my body where he’s pumping into me. His c**k huge and glistening makes me want to take him in my mouth and suck him, but I don’t. Instead, I lift my ass in the air and push harder against his dick, forcing him to slam his body into mine. I’m giving him everything I have. Arsen begins to thrust harder, and harder, and harder. I feel light headed. I am so close. The pain becomes unbearable but I can’t stop myself from enjoying the aggression of his hips. It’s driving me closer to my cl**ax. Behind me, Arsen slams into me one last time shoving me forward.

We come together hard.

“Fuuuuuck!” he shouts.

I moan.

After a lengthy silence, our heavy breathing the only sound in the room, Arsen finally answers my earlier question.

“Because we can’t help ourselves. We can’t keep avoiding this.”

When Arsen pulls out of me, my eyes land on my phone peeking out of my bag. The image staring back at me.

Ben holding Mimi and smiling into the camera.

Sometime later, after another round, I’m lying na**d on top of Arsen. Our bodies sweaty from screwing, his hand gently caressing my back, a crystal clear thought suddenly forms in my head. With my chest pounding frantically, I realize I haven’t felt like this for a very long time. ALIVE.

And I want more.

A lot more.
Crying.

My eyes are tired.

Scrubbing.

My body is raw.

God, give me strength. I want to go back. I need to go back, but could I?

Could I go back to Arsen and let him f**k me again until he erases the pain away? Until he pulls me out of the deep ocean of remorse I’m drowning in?

Those waves. They keep pulling me down. And I need to break through. I must. But he made it all go away. He made me forget, even if it was just for a couple of hours. He made me forget, and I want to forget.

I must forget.

Scorching. The water falling down on my skin is burning me and it feels so very good. The pain is a sweet punishment for having tasted the deliciously forbidden.

Foamy soap covers me as I continue to scrub my body down, washing him away. I don’t want to, but I must. I cannot go to bed smelling like another man, smelling like the musky scent of Arsen’s cum, so I coat my body with jasmine scented soap over and over again. Ignoring the swollen redness in between my legs, the rug burn on my knees, the bruise growing on my left breast close to my nipple…I erase all traces of him off my body.

After I’m finished showering and patting myself dry, I apply lotion on my body and face and head to bed. My hair still damp from the shower wets my pillow as I lie down, pretending to be asleep before Ben comes to bed. I don’t know how I will face him, kiss his lips, taste him in my mouth, when all I want is to taste someone else. Rubbing my legs together and feeling the soreness in between them is a reminder that I should feel remorseful. And I do, I feel remorse, but I don’t think it will stop me from repeating what happened tonight. No. I want to be selfish. For the first time in a very long time, I was able to forget about the pain and the memories.

I lost myself in the sweet oblivion of Arsen’s body.

I felt alive.

I felt high in the freedom of walking away from my shitty life and pretending for a brief moment that I was just Catherine. A woman. A sensual woman who isn’t a failure.

When Arsen touched me, I didn’t feel a visceral reaction to his touch.

When he went deep inside me with each thrust of his hips, I didn’t feel like it was sex to get pregnant, I didn’t feel the lack of romance.

When he f**ked my brains out on the carpeted floor for a second time, it didn’t feel like work or a task. It was pure raw passion, and I want more.

I crave more.

But can I go through with it again?

I don’t know.

The guilty tears have dried, my body is clean, and my conscience is garbage, so why am I so confused? The answer should be simple; walk away, come clean with Ben, apologize and hope that he has it in him to forgive and forget. The thing is, I’m ashamed, but I’m not sorry. I’m not. It’s funny, really. Thinking about the way he came inside me, on me, everywhere, makes me sick to my stomach, guilt twisting it so tightly. Yet, the memories make my heart flutter as fast as a hummingbird’s wings. Control and restraint gone, being with him was pure bliss.

Sometimes not being in control, not being able to think, just losing yourself in the moment, is the greatest feeling in the world. It’s liberating. It’s addicting. It’s the most powerful high you’ll ever get. It’s a kind of freedom that tastes so sweet on your palate that you can’t help but want more each time you have it.

Ben joins me in bed not too long after, and I wish he hadn’t. It’s only when I feel his warm hand on my hip, when I’m lying next to my unsuspecting husband that the realization of what I’ve done finally sinks in. Massive revulsion roars inside me, making me nauseous. Dirty. I feel dirty.

I’m a cheater.

I’m scum.

I can’t stand his touch, so I turn away and lay on my side. With my back facing him, I can pretend that this is like every other night. I can lie to myself and ignore the remorse that festers inside me, not allowing me to fall asleep. But the minute I close my eyes, I realize what a big mistake it was as my mind begins to replay what happened back in Arsen’s apartment.

With a tight chest, I recall every single vivid detail...

Touch yourself.

I want to watch as you make yourself come.

Yes...rub those fingers on your clit.

Fuck.

Look at me when you do that.

Yes. Like that.

Imagine that my c**k is inside your pu**y as my fingers f**k that sweet ass of yours.

Can you feel it?

I watch him as he takes his dick in his hand and starts to pump it slowly.

Up and down...

Up and down…

I rub my cl*tfaster as I watch him stroking himself.

Stop.

Fuck your pu**y with your fingers.

Yes...Deeper. I want to watch them disappear inside you.

Take them out. Stand up. Come here.

Good girl. Now put them inside my mouth and pump my c**k with your free hand.

Hissing, he grounds his erection against my hand as he whispers for me to do it harder.

I watch as he sucks my fingers. The way Arsen’s tongue slides across them. And I continue to watch him as he pulls them out of his mouth.

Yes.

Pull Harder...

Harder...

God, Dimples. I need you now.

Get on your hands and knees.

I am going to f**k that sweet pu**y now.

Hard.

So f**king hard.

Yes, I’m on my knees feeling a man, who’s not my husband, inside me. I can feel the way his hands spread me open, wider so he can go in deeper, thrust deeper.

His fingers invade me.

Everywhere.

Feeling my body tremble, I even remember the way a groan torn out from his chest as he pulled out and came over my back, spreading himself on me.

Yes. I need to apologize to Ben for everything. I need to apologize for loving Arsen’s taste on my tongue because of the simple fact that it wasn’t his. I need to apologize because for the first time in a very long while I was able to orgasm without closing my eyes and picturing blue instead of brown. Because tonight, with eyes wide open, I cl**axed as I got lost in a sea of blue.

Could he forgive me? I’m not sure I want him to. No. I do. I do. I love Ben. I love my Ben.

What have I done?

What have I done?

A restricting panic begins to rise inside me when I feel Ben’s stubbled chin tickle the back of my shoulder. With his nose buried in the curve of my neck, he inhales deeply, making my breath accelerate. When I’m about to turn around to let him know that I am awake, he wraps his arms around me.

“I am sorry. I am so f**king sorry for not being able to give you...but you are enough. You are more than enough for me. You’re my f**king world, babe. And I need you back. Please stop shutting me out, I can’t take it anymore.” He tightens his grip, bringing our bodies closer together as he continues to whisper fiercely in my ear, “Own me, fill me, break me, repair me, complete me. Do whatever you want to me. Just stay with me. I need you. I need to be able to live. I need my life back, I need you back.”

I die a slow death with every word he whispers in my ear. His words are like daggers to my heart. They cut me. They tear me open. His words destroy me.

Not knowing what to say, and feeling like shit, I continue to pretend I’m sleeping. After a few minutes, I hear Ben’s breathing deepen, letting me know that he’s finally asleep.

I want to scream.

I want to cry.

I want to apologize.

I want to be alone.

I want to die.

I close my eyes tighter and make a promise with myself. I won’t go near Arsen ever again. I will not tell Ben because it was a one-time thing, and some things are better left unsaid.

And it will never happen again. It will not. I know it. We will get through this. It will be as if it never happened. My love for Ben will be enough.

I love him.

I love him.

I love him.

That is what I keep telling myself as I begin to fall asleep, but the last thing I remember is picturing brilliant aqua eyes staring down at me.

And just like that, I know that my words are empty, my promises fickle.

I will see Arsen again.

I will…

Until I can’t anymore.People say that if you play with fire, you’ll get burned. Well, when it comes to Arsen, I not only want to get burned¸ I want to be incinerated.

He’s my chance to be unguarded and content. To be wildly, incredibly, fiercely happy. With one kiss, he awoke something inside me that had laid dormant for a very long time—the will to live. And I am going to embrace it, even if it’s at the cost of my values and marriage.

Three weeks have passed since our affair began. Three weeks of living in a sullied heaven. A place where the taste of him, the smell of him, the feel of him are all I care about, all that makes my heart beat faster. A place where he’s my only reality. Three weeks of ignoring thoughts of Ben during the day, and avoiding his touch at night. I love him, I still do. But he’s not what I need, not what I hunger for.

Crazed, I need to be with Arsen to feel at peace, to feel calmed and centered. To feel claimed. Owned. I’m losing my mind over this man, and I can’t stop myself from letting it happen. I can’t do anything but wait and watch for the wreck to happen. And it will. It will leave me broken.

Destroyed.

In pieces.

On the rare occasions when Ben and I have dinner together, it has become extremely difficult to watch him eat, or talk to him as if everything is normal because nothing is. Sometimes, small things from the way he holds his fork or puts food in his mouth remind me of Arsen. I watch Ben’s dark hair and imagine Arsen’s blond locks in between my legs. I stare at his fingers gripping the fork and think back to the forbidden place where Arsen’s fingers were the other day. How much it hurt at first, but how good it felt when Arsen f**ked me there right after.

It’s awful to sit in front of my husband and relive my day with my lover. The worst is when Ben makes love to me, and I imagine he’s Arsen.

But such is my reality. No one said cheating was pretty but hell, it’s downright disgusting.

Yet, I can’t stop myself from doing it.
Today, Ben is under the impression that I’m going shopping in the city and maybe staying to have dinner with Amy. Really, lies are so easy to tell when you don’t care anymore, or when you have lost all shame.

That is my truth.

Arsen picks me up in his white sports car from Grand Central and begins to drive seemingly to nowhere. “Where are you taking me?”

He takes my hand in his as he glances my way. “To my apartment. I feel that’s the only place where we get to be private without having to worry whether we’ll run into someone who knows us.”

“But we’re in Manhattan. I’m sure we can have privacy if we choose to.” I lean over and run my hands through his hair.

“I guess. But if I want you, I won’t be able to stop myself from taking you no matter where we are.” He lets go of my hand to let his fingers roam over my exposed legs, his caressing touch warming my skin like the sun.

I smile and think of the last time I saw him.

We were at an underground nightclub. Arsen had chosen this place because we could blend in with the crowd easily and go unnoticed. The music was fast and hard, but as the crowd moved around us, bouncing and grinding, Arsen and I remained in our own little bubble. I could smell his delicious cologne and if I wanted, taste his sweat with my tongue. Arsen bent his head to rest his forehead against mine, grabbed my ass and pulled me flush against him, instantly igniting my ache for him. And like rolling waves, we danced together as one. Slowly. Sensually. Carnally.