Homewrecker (18+)

Chapter 28

Mr. Rossi had pulled out of me tentatively, his hands shaking just as mine were, fingers trembling, palms coated in sweat.

The electricity, the spark, the explosion of adrenalin and lust had been sucked out of the room, leaving nothing but a thick air of silence- a deadly quiet, the one that causes your cheeks to tinge in a scarlet red. This, of course, was only a result of the fact that I had indeed been caught in the act, just as Mr. Rossi had.

Shamefully, I took a deep breath and pulled down my t-shirt, covering my skin still glistening in my arousal, though I'd already been invaded, seemingly the fact that she'd witnessed her own husbands' cóck inside of me. Crossing my arms against my chest, I backed up behind Mr. Rossi, who was just sliding up his pair of jeans, fumbling and shaking to button the rest up.

Neither of us had been able to climax, though that was definitely the least of our worries. Surely, his cóck had fallen limp at the sight of Angelica witnessing such an atrocity. Nevertheless, I was still wet, though not in the mood to do anything.

However, a minuscule part of me wished it could turn into one big, fat joke- that Angelica would somehow find it arousing, perhaps even ask to join in.

Jealousy was the greenest emotion, the deadliest of them all. There was no way in hell she wasn't feeling it, nor would her or any wife not. After all, to witness your husband fùcking a beautiful teenager probably drains any bit of confidence she once had.

I wondered if I'd be the jealous wife. Would I mind it if I walked in on my husband fúcking another woman, a teenager? A teenager prettier than me?

Not possible, of course, but all joking aside, I truthfully wouldn't. I cracked a smile, out of nervousness, though quickly pressed a hand over my mouth. Right now was not the time.

What was wrong with me? Why am I making jokes in one of the most humiliating moments of my life?

Of course I wouldn't be jealous. That's just pathetic.

Or maybe I would be.

I half-heartedly attempted to ignore the structure of his bottom and back muscles, of his shoulders and warm neck, though I tore my gaze away and let it settle on the hardwood floor, attempting to look at anything but the wife standing in front of us.

"Are any of you going to speak or continue to pretend I'm not in the room?" She demanded, her bare foot tapping against the floor. "Did you really think I couldn't hear that? That I couldn't ever hear it?

Mr. Rossi finally finished buttoning his pants, in which he then placed his hands down at his side. "Ange, please, I really can explain-"

"Save it," she snapped, brushing a hand through her hair tiredly. "There is no explanation, but let me ask this- what did Madelyn have that I didn't? Do you have feelings for her or is it just sex?"

I clenched and unclenched my clammy palms, my heart hammering in my chest, so loud that I was positive it could be heard in the silence of the room.

Did he have feelings for me or was it just sex?

He'll say it was just sex, of course. I couldn't possibly hurt over something like that- it was completely expected. He just wanted a release like my father, no big deal.

"It was just sex. Ange, I know it looks bad but I love you, not her."

It was just sex. He loves her, not me.