Katherine ran her fingers along the silk lining of the dress before slipping it from the hanger. Deep garnet—rich as aged wine. The colour wasn’t modest. It didn’t whisper. It declared. But the neckline, modestly cut, was the balance: seductive only to those with patience.

She had chosen this dress deliberately.

It had been a long time since she dressed like this for herself.

The quiet of the bedroom wrapped around her. Alex had left her space. No watching this time. Just a kiss at the door, a warm hand at the small of her back, and a quiet murmur: “Only if you want to.”

She’d wanted to.

And now, hours later, Katherine stood before the mirror with the weight of that choice draped across her body like a second skin. Her makeup was subtle, sultry—the line of her lashes winged to just the right edge of confidence. Her lips wore a warm red, deeper than flirtation, not quite promise.

She breathed out, long and steady settling the butterflies.

There was no fear in her. But a tension curled in her belly—the thrill of the unknown, yes, but also something more delicate. I’m really doing this again. Her thighs shifted. She hadn’t put on knickers. That had been an instinct. Quiet. Undiscussed.

At 8pm, the taxi arrived.

Katherine slowly, deliberately walked to the door, glancing back at Alex with a smile only he knew.

“I'll be fine,” she said blowing a kiss.

The bar came into view just after eight-thirty. Warm light behind tall glass. People inside. Soft laughter. Music that hummed instead of shouted. She walked in alone, head high, heels precise.

She took the same seat where Alex had met Lucy.  

History didn’t repeat. But it did echo.  

She was sipping her first glass of wine, something deep and peppery, when he appeared. Not sudden. Just present. A man in his mid-forties, jacket neat but unbuttoned, the kind of confidence that didn’t overplay itself. His voice, when he spoke, came low and English.

“Should I know what wine that is? Or should I just offer to buy the next one?”

Katherine looked up. Her smile curved slowly. “Let’s find out.” 

The conversation carried on. 

He was clever. Grounded. A little older than expected. He didn’t crowd her. He asked questions she hadn’t been asked in years. He listened when she answered. She wasn’t being flirted with, she was being seen.

And as the second glass turned into a third, she felt her own edges softening. Her laugh came easier. Her shoulders dropped. His hand brushed hers once, innocent, not demanding. But she didn’t move it.

It was late.

She reached for her phone around eleven to send a check-in text to Alex.

But didn’t press send.

His hand had just touched her thigh beneath the table.

Not rudely. Not even possessively.

Just… with intent.

She looked up, held his gaze.

“Let’s go,” she said.        

The car was quiet.

Not awkwardly so. But taut, like a string pulled just enough to hum.

Katherine sat with one leg crossed, her hand resting lightly on her knee. His hand gripped the wheel, not tightly, but deliberately. Every so often, his eyes flicked toward her. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.

Outside, the world blurred into streetlights and shadows. Inside, her heart moved differently. Not fast. But steady. Like a drumbeat coming into rhythm.

Her phone buzzed once in her clutch. 

She didn’t check it. 

Instead, she turned her head and looked at him fully, his profile in amber light, his jaw firm, the line of his mouth unreadable.

He looked over, and this time his gaze didn’t flick back to the road.

“Still sure?” he asked, quietly.

She nodded once. Her voice, when it came, was low.

“More than ever.”

And that was all they said.

The hotel sign appeared ahead in the night, glowing faintly.

She didn’t look away.

The suite was larger than she expected, three rooms, softly lit and expensive in that understated way that whispered instead of showed off.

The kind of room chosen by someone used to yes.

The man, his name was Daniel, closed the door behind them and didn’t crowd her. He hung his jacket in the small wardrobe by the entrance, as if giving her space to change her mind. As if the next hour was hers to define.

It mattered.

Katherine stepped forward slowly, her heels quiet on the carpet. The main lounge opened before her: a low, slate-blue sofa, a glass coffee table, an open bottle of red already breathing on a tray beside a pair of cut-crystal glasses.

When she noticed he simply said, “I called ahead”.

She sat first and smiled, not waiting not watching.

Daniel poured the wine and joined her.

Their conversation from the bar still lingered between them, his stories, her laughter, the flirtation that had deepened into something with more weight. They didn’t talk now. They didn’t need to.

He handed her a glass.

The wine was smooth, just slightly tannic. Her second sip landed just as his hand settled lightly against her thigh.

No rush.

She turned her face to his, and his mouth met hers in a kiss that wasn’t searching. It was sure. Warm. A taste before a question. Her lips parted. She let him in.

Her fingers threaded through his shirt, pulling him closer. His mouth moved slowly, deliberately, and when he shifted his weight to press her down into the cushions, her legs fell apart without conscious thought.

It wasn’t hurried. But it was happening.

His fingers found her skin beneath the hem of her dress, inching up, sliding along the inside of her thigh. She gasped softly. His teeth found her lower lip. She arched into him. Their glasses were forgotten on the table.

And then—buzz.

Her phone.

Once.

Then again.

She didn’t reach for it.

Daniel’s hands were beneath her dress now, his mouth at her neck, her shoulder, just where silk met skin.  

She turned her head. 

The phone blinked silently from coffee table. 

Still, she didn’t reach.

His hand slid higher. He found her wet.

Katherine moaned into his mouth and for a moment, she could hear her pulse. Loud. Alive.

But something in her snapped then—not fear, not doubt, but the surge of knowing exactly what she wanted.

She pushed him back, not roughly, not in refusal.

Her eyes locked to his.

She stood.

Her voice was breathless. Quiet. But charged.

“Bedroom. Now.”

He followed without a word.

She didn’t look at the phone again.

The bedroom was warm with low light—lamps dimmed to a soft amber, the sheets turned down with hotel precision. Katherine didn’t hesitate. Her heels clicked once on the polished wood floor, then fell silent as she reached the bed.

She didn’t climb onto it.

She claimed it.

With a soft laugh, she threw herself backwards, her dress riding high on her thighs. She landed with one arm flung across the pillows, her other hand lifting the hem higher—higher—until the dark edge of her bare sex showed between parted legs.

“Hungry,” she said with a wicked grin, eyes full of mischief and certainty.

Daniel, standing in the doorway, sucked in a quiet breath. His eyes traced the length of her—dress bunched at her hips, thighs spread, nipples hard beneath silk.

He stepped forward slowly, the door clicking shut behind him.

“Ravenous,” he said.

And then he was on her.

His hands found her waist first, holding her still as he bent to kiss her stomach, her hips, her inner thigh. Katherine propped herself on her elbows, watching. Waiting. Not in submission, in invitation.

He kissed lower, his breath hot against her skin.

She moaned when his tongue found her. Not gentle, not testing, sure. Broad strokes at first, then tighter circles, then deeper still as she opened for him with a shiver.

Her thighs locked around his shoulders. She ground her hips forward.

“Yes,” she whispered, head tilting back. “More.”

And he gave it.

Tongue and lips, fingers sliding inside her, slow, then faster. Each movement coaxed a different sound from her throat: sighs, gasps, low broken cries.

He didn’t stop until she was shaking, hips bucking, voice catching.

She came once, hard, and still he didn’t move.

Another wave rose. She clutched at his hair, the sheets, herself.

“Please—” she gasped.

Daniel stood, his lips wet with her.

“You’re not done,” he said, voice thick.

He pulled his shirt off in one motion. Trousers dropped. She didn’t look away, not even for a moment.

He climbed over her slowly, his cock heavy against her thigh, and kissed her again, deep, tasting her on his mouth. She moaned into it.

Then he pushed inside.

She orgasmed all over again. Long and powerful

Katherine stirred, her mouth dry, thighs tender and spent. A languid ache pulsed through her as she shifted against the sheets, a faint smile flickering before sleep claimed her.

She didn’t open her eyes at first.

It was 4am

“Shit” she whispered to no one in particular

She didn’t need to.

The weight of him behind her was unmistakable. One strong arm draped over her waist, his hand resting between her breasts. His breath touched her shoulder in slow, even waves. His chest rose and fell against her spine.

And lower…

She could feel him.

Hard.

Pressed thick against the curve of her arse, twitching slightly in his sleep.

“Oh fuck, does he never get soft” she thought to herself. “Oh let’s get it over with.”

She blinked once, then smiled into the pillow. Her legs shifted, just enough to feel him better.

Let the warmth spread. Let the ache sharpen. Let the memory return in fractured, perfect flashes.

The wine on her lips.

His mouth on her thighs. 

The second time on the desk in the other room.

The third, up against the mirror, her hands flat against the glass.

The way she’d sobbed his name into the mattress the fourth time, her legs unable to hold her weight. 

And still… he hadn’t stopped.

The air in the suite still smelled of it. Of her. Of him. Of everything they hadn’t held back.

A hand stirred.

Not hers.  

His.  

It slid up to cup her breast, fingers splaying gently, then tightening just enough to make her gasp. 

“You’re awake,” he murmured, voice still sleep-warm.

She turned her head slightly, just enough to catch his mouth with hers.

“You’re hard,” she replied.

He laughed softly against her lips. “I dreamed of you again.”

Her hips rolled back against him, just slightly, just enough.

“Show me,” she whispered.

And he did.

He pressed her forward into the pillows, her legs parting instinctively as he settled behind her. No words now. Just the slow, steady push of him entering her again—slick and easy from the night before, but no less intense.

Katherine moaned low, her body arching into his as he filled her, again and again, like they’d never stopped.

The rhythm was different now.

No urgency. No frantic edge. Just a slow, molten build—measured and intimate. His hips moved against hers with the patience of a man who already knew the shape of her moans, the catch in her breath just before release. Each thrust was deep, long, and deliberate. Katherine gasped into the pillow, her body trembling anew, her limbs too soft now to resist or guide—only to feel.

One of his hands held her hip.

The other slid along her ribs, pulling her against him with every motion, fingers brushing her breast, her jaw, the edge of her mouth.

“You feel even better than last night,” he whispered.

She answered with a sound, half-laugh, half-sob.

She was beyond words now. Only sensation.

Only the knowing, exquisite friction that tightened her lower belly, sent sparks behind her eyes, pulled a high, ragged moan from her throat.

He didn’t stop until he felt her start to fall apart.

Her orgasm built slowly, winding like a rope drawn taut, her breath catching with each stroke—until suddenly it snapped. A raw, aching sound left her as her body clenched around him, shuddering violently. Her hands gripped the sheets. Her toes curled.

He followed a moment later, still buried inside her, groaning into her shoulder, pressing her down as he spilled.

They collapsed together.

Breathing hard. Silent.

Spent.

Katherine’s body felt boneless beneath him. Her hair damp at the roots, her skin still flushed with effort. She didn’t move. Neither did he.

For a long time, there was only the sound of their breath, the slow thud of heartbeats against skin.

It was only when she rolled away, sheets pulled loosely across her stomach, that she saw the light.

Her phone, lying on the coffee table. Screen glowing.

Six missed calls.

Three messages.

Alex.

Her chest tightened, breath catching.

He’d stayed quiet all night. No demands. Just patience. Trust.

And she’d walked past midnight without even a glance.

She sat up slowly, the soreness in her body now joined by something sharper—a touch of guilt.

Daniel walked into the lounge, “Everything alright?”

She didn’t answer immediately. The screen unlocked under her thumb.

There were no accusations.

Just: 

“Just checking in. Are you alright?”

“I’m trying not to panic. Please send me something—anything.”

“I trusted this would be yours. But now I don’t know where you are. Or if you’re still mine.”

“It’s nearly morning. He thinks he’s taken you from me, doesn’t he?”

But it was the last message, unread, timestamped only twenty minutes ago, that undid her.

“Tell me he didn’t win. Tell me you’re coming back.”

Her throat closed.

Daniel stood behind her, reaching to brush her shoulder, but she turned slightly, just out of reach.

“No,” she murmured, more to herself than him.

Daniel blinked. “No?”

She stood slowly, finding her dress on the chair, her fingers slow at the zip.

“It was for me,” she said.

Her voice was steady.

But her heart was anything but.

07:20 am Katherine Returns Home

Alex heard the car pull up before he saw it.

The soft crunch of tyres on gravel, the door’s muted thud, then footsteps, slow, deliberate, barefoot on stone. It was early. The house still held its quiet, a gentle pre-dawn blue brushing across the windows.

He stood in the kitchen, arms crossed, nursing a mug of tea gone cold long ago.

Not pacing. Not brooding. Waiting.

He had read the messages again just after 6:30. Not out of need, but out of curiosity. He’d meant every word. He hadn’t been angry, not really. Hurt, maybe. Frayed. But he understood. She needed this. Not to stray, not to punish, but to find. To become.

And now she was back.

The key turned.

The door opened.

And there she was.

Katherine stepped inside with her hair tied back hastily, her dress creased at the waist, and her face, oh, her face, changed. A flush across her chest. A quiet storm in her eyes. Her shoes were in one hand, her phone in the other, screen dark.

He didn’t speak.

Just watched her.

Watched the way she closed the door softly behind her, how her fingers hesitated before they reached for the handle. How her gaze met his and held.

“I saw the messages,” she said.

“I know.”

A pause.

She took a step forward, her voice low. “You weren’t angry.”

“No.”

“You knew what it was.”

“I did.”

“And you were right,” she said, her breath trembling. “He thought he was claiming something that wasn’t his.”

She paused, then added, quieter still, “I think that’s what pushed him. Like it turned him on, the idea that I belonged to someone else.”

A brief smile tugged at the edge of her lips, dry and knowing. “Men get wild when they think they’re stealing.”

Alex stepped forward now, close, but not touching her. “And what did you take?”

She tilted her chin. Not defiantly. Not in defence.

“I took myself.” Looking up into his eyes with an honest smile.  

He smiled, warm, sure, and full of something deeper than pride.

“Good.”

Her lower lip trembled. “You waited.”

“I knew you’d come back different.”

Her voice cracked, just a little. “Are you disappointed?”

Alex shook his head slowly, brushing her cheek with the backs of his fingers.

“No,” he murmured. “I’ve never wanted you more.”

They didn’t go upstairs straight away.

Instead, Katherine settled on the edge of the sofa, still in her crumpled dress, legs tucked beneath her. She didn’t ask if he wanted to hear. She just needed to speak, Alex understood that.

He sat across from her, not touching, but close enough that she felt his warmth in the small distance between them.

“It started slow,” she said, voice husky with exhaustion and memory. “He was patient. Confident, but quiet. The kind of man who doesn’t ask permission but waits until you offer it.”

Alex watched her carefully, not flinching.

“I thought about you the moment we walked in,” she added. “Not guiltily. Just... present. Like you were still in the room, somewhere behind the wallpaper.”

Her fingers twisted lightly in the fabric of her dress.

“There were moments,” she continued, “when I forgot who I was. That I was your wife. That I was anyone’s anything. It was just... my body. My choices. My hunger.”

Katherine met his eyes. “That scared me. A little.”

“Why?”

“Because I liked it,” she whispered.

"Then, my lizard brain kicked in” she grinned at her joke.

He nodded once, slowly.

She breathed in, then out. “But it wasn’t until I woke up, hours later, sore, wrecked, that I realised I missed something. That all the power, all the sensation... it had no root.”

Alex didn’t speak. Let the silence stretch around her.

She looked at him gently. “I didn’t miss you because I was guilty. I missed you because you were the reason it mattered. I wanted you to know I’d taken that space. That I’d made it mine.”

His voice was low when he spoke. “And did you?”

“Yes,” she said without hesitation. “I did. I let him fuck me like he was stealing me, and I realised halfway through, he was wrong. He didn’t steal a thing.”

Alex leaned forward, elbows on knees. “Because you already knew who you belonged to.”

Katherine’s smile was small. “Because I realised, I don’t belong to anyone.”

Alex’s brow lifted, not wounded but intrigued.

“But” she added, softer now, “I want to come home to you. Because you never tried to own me. Just to witness me.”

A long pause passed between them.

Then Alex spoke, voice steady: “You’re not done talking, are you?”

She shook her head. “Not even close.”

And neither of them moved.

Not yet. 

Not until the truth had finished unravelling.

They didn’t go upstairs straight away.

Alex’s mouth twitched, not quite a smile.

“And you let him believe it?”

A pause.

“I let him fuck the story,” she said, voice soft but certain. “But the truth? That stayed here. With us.”

She looked up then, meeting his gaze across the room. Her eyes were calm, unflinching. Honest.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The ticking clock was the only sound between them.

Then Alex nodded once, a small, almost imperceptible gesture. He leaned back into his chair, exhaling slowly.

“Good,” he said quietly.

Katherine set her cup down and unfolded her legs, crossing the room to him. She settled onto his lap without a word, resting her head against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, feeling the steady beat of her heart against his.

They stayed like that, in the quiet warmth of their home, the truth settled between them like an unspoken vow.

Outside, the world continued its restless turning.

Inside, for now, they were still.