by Mia Asher
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 naked 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 fuck 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 fucked 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 cock is inside your pussy as my fingers fuck 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 clit faster as I watch him stroking himself.
Stop.
Fuck your pussy 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 cock 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 fuck that sweet pussy now.
Hard.
So fucking 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 climaxed 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 fucking sorry for not being able to give you...but you are enough. You are more than enough for me. You’re my fucking 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 fucked 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.
The heat of the club, the sweat of our skin, the feel of his body so close to mine, yet not close enough, made me feel euphoric. Nothing seemed important but Arsen.
Nudging me gently, then not so gently, I started to laugh when I felt exactly what had nudged me. A smirking Arsen closed the space between our faces and kissed me open mouthed while our bodies kept writhing against each other.
I loved it.
We should have felt awkward by making out to this extent in the middle of the dance floor, but Arsen and I seemed to be in a different world where the passion that was making me incredibly wet and Arsen extremely hard, made everything trivial. I didn’t even care if pictures of this night made it on the newspaper. I was that far gone in ecstasy.
When the song changed to something even louder and faster than the one before, Arsen seemed to realize where we were. He let go of my ass, and cupped my chin in his hand while his fingers ran through my hair.
He moved his mouth close to my ear and whispered, “What is it about you that makes me fucking lose my mind?”
Before I had a chance to react, Arsen grabbed my hand and made me follow him to a dark and empty corner. By the time we made it to there, he backed me up against the wall. Arsen grabbed the hem of his shirt to wipe the perspiration off my face, revealing part of his six-pack. I wanted to lean down and trace my tongue through every ripple covered in his sweat.
After he releases his shirt, Arsen took me by surprise when he used the front of his body to pin me against the wall. He put his hands on the wall encasing my head, and then he leaned down to run his nose through my hair, my throat, behind my ear.
“The feel of you…” he whispered in my ear, “I want you so damn much. I don’t think I have ever wanted someone as much as I want you.”
It was in these moments when I was out with Arsen, so full of him, that not a thought of Ben crossed my mind. When I was able to bury my feelings for him deep in my heart and ignore the guilt festering inside me.
When I could ignore reality and pretend that Arsen was mine.
And in that moment I was drunk and high of him.
He was all I wanted.
He made me want to throw my head back and laugh.
He made me forget.
When Arsen voiced how much he wanted me, I felt powerful and inebriated with excitement. I wanted to show him how much he meant to me. He watched me closely as I lowered my eyes to where our bodies were connected, my hand coasting over the lean sides of his waist, the muscles of his chest, and his tense abdomen. Our need for each other so palpable in the air around us.
I wanted to touch him, to feel him in my hands, to make him feel as excited as he made me. I wanted him down on his knees with want. For me.
Without giving much thought to what I was about to do, I slid my fingers inside his jeans and boxer briefs until they curved over his erection.
I saw him close his eyes and take a deep breath as my hand felt how hard he was for me. Wanting to give him as much pleasure as possible, I slowly caressed his length, my thumb lightly rubbing the head of his dick.
Up and down…
Up and down…
I contracted my fingers boldly around him until I heard him hiss.
Arsen lowered his head and began whispering kisses all over my face with such tenderness it made me want to cry. It was as if he were worshiping me with his mou
th and his touch. His searching lips lingered in the corners of mine, across my nose, then made their way back to my mouth. Urgently, I turned my face to kiss him, wanting his lips, his tongue, his mouth on mine, and he gave me what I wanted. He kissed me slowly, owning me by excruciating degrees, making me moan and open my mouth fully to the penetration of his tongue. Arsen led the kiss, setting the pace, not letting me pull away even when I felt overpowered by him.
He removed his hands from the wall and pulled me even closer to him than before. Arsen then hunched his shoulders over me and brought one of his hands to cup my ass, lifting me so that I stood on my tip-toes. I let go of his erection and brought my hands to his hair. I twisted and pulled it until I made him groan. He moved his mouth to my throat, to the top of my breasts peeking out of my tank top and licked the sweat off.
By that point, I had lost my fucking mind with need for him, so I brought one of my legs up to wrap around his waist, bringing us closer than before. In this new position, I was open to him, open to his wandering hand. He caressed the inside of my thigh as his fingers under my skirt inched up, and up, and up until I was sure he could feel how wet I was. His possessive hand stroked me outside my panties.
I knew we should have been paying more attention to what was going on around us, after all we were in a very public place and people could snap a picture, but honest to God…
I couldn’t care less, and Arsen seemed less concerned than me.
Arsen lips parted, and his eyes widened ever so slightly as he felt how close I was to getting off; his fingers teased and caressed me until I shattered.
My pulse pounded in my ears and throat while I felt spasms come over me, each beat of bliss pulling low moans from my throat. If not for the support of his hand on my ass, I’d have stumbled forward. His erection pressed hard against my belly while he watched my face, my mouth, the fast rise and fall of my breasts, with an expression of awe. Once I was coherent again, I noticed his flushed face and the way his jaw was set so tight, conveying how tense and in pain he was.