The kitchen filled with the smell of fresh coffee—earthy, warm, grounding. I stood barefoot on the cold tile floor, pouring a cup, when I felt her behind me.
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Ashley padded in, barefoot and glowing. Her silk robe clung lazily to her frame, one shoulder already sliding off. Her hair was an absolute mess—real bedhead, the kind you get from being thrown around, not from sleeping. Her lips were still slightly swollen. She looked like she’d been fucked six ways from Sunday. Because she had.
“Morning,” she said, her voice low, husky. She reached up lightly on her toes and planted a soft kiss on my cheek.
I handed her a mug. “Sleep well?”
Ashley gave a tiny smile and sipped. “Wouldn’t call it sleep.”
She took another slow sip from the mug, eyes fluttering closed for a moment as the warmth filled her.
I leaned back against the counter, watching her. “You want something to eat?”
Ashley glanced at me, lips curving slightly. “Hmm. Maybe later.” She ran a hand lazily through her tangled hair. “I don’t think I’m quite… rehydrated yet.”
Footsteps thudded softly down the hallway.
Then Darren appeared. A tall, commanding figure.
He was barefoot, shirtless, and wearing nothing but loose basketball shorts slung dangerously low on his hips. His chest was broad, every muscle defined, abs stretching as he yawned. He looked every bit the man who had taken what he wanted—and then some.
“Already got the coffee going?” Darren said as he walked in, bare-chested and stretching with a slow, satisfied groan. “You really are the full-service husband.”
I offered him a second mug wordlessly.
Darren took it with a nod, then turned to Ashley. “You move fast. I figured you’d still be horizontal.”
Ashley rolled her eyes but didn’t argue.
Darren moved in behind her and slid his free arm around her waist, kissing her temple before taking her mug and sipping from it. “Way too sweet,” he muttered.
Ashley leaned her weight back into him anyway, her body giving in easily. “Then stop stealing mine, mister."
Darren took a sip of his coffee, then glanced at me with a smirk.
“Real talk, I might need you to keep coffee duty going. I sleep better after wrecking your wife.”
Ashley let out a laugh and swatted his chest. “Darren!”
“What?” he said, grinning. “Credit where it’s due.”
Ashley gave me a knowing look over her shoulder, eyes dancing. “Ignore him.”
But her body was curled into Darren’s. She hadn’t moved an inch.
We migrated to the small dining table. Darren sat first, pulling Ashley into his lap without hesitation. She settled there like it was second nature, her robe riding high on her thigh. Darren's hand found its place almost instantly, resting casually on her bare leg, thumb stroking absent-mindedly.
“We keep you up last night?” Darren asked, glancing toward me without even pretending it wasn’t rhetorical.
I lifted my mug to my lips. “Not really.”
Ashley gave a low, amused laugh. “We weren’t exactly quiet.”
“Nope,” Darren said. “You were loud as hell.”
Ashley shot him a look, but her cheeks went warm.
“Don’t give me that,” he added, nudging her side. “You sounded like you were having an exorcism. I thought the neighbors were gonna knock.”
Ashley groaned, laughing despite herself. “I’m banning you from metaphors.”
Darren leaned in and whispered something in her ear with a sly grin, his hands roaming dangerously high on her bare thigh.
Ashley swatted his chest, but the blush on her cheeks betrayed her. “Oh my god, Darren…”
I sipped my coffee slowly, the mug trembling faintly in my hand. Across the table, my wife giggled in another man’s lap, flushed and glowing. I was the cuckold in the corner.
Darren leaned in and kissed her shoulder, lips brushing just over a tender bruise. “You're walking funny today.”
Ashley gave him a sideways glance, voice dry but soft. “That’s on you.”
“I know,” he said smugly.
Ashley looked down, cheeks flushed. Her legs stretched across his lap now, the robe gaping at the sides, more undone than covered.
Darren looked over at me then, nodding toward the master bedroom. “That bed’s not gonna survive another weekend. I give it two more rounds. Max.”
Ashley laughed. “He’s not wrong.”
“I mean, we broke one slat already, didn’t we?”
I said nothing.
Ashley reached over and brushed her fingers along Darren’s jaw. “Don’t encourage yourself.”
“I don’t need to,” he said, leaning into her touch. “You do that just fine.”
Ashley gave Darren a playful elbow to the ribs. “You’re awful.”
“I’m honest,” he replied, kissing her exposed shoulder. “You’re still sore, admit it.”
She rolled her eyes, but her smirk gave her away.
I stared into my cup, silent.
“You alright over there?” Darren asked, tone still light, running a hand absently up and down my wife’s thigh.
I offered a weak smile. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
Ashley shifted a little on Darren’s lap, adjusting the robe. Her legs stretched across his lap now, bare and relaxed.
I stood, trying not to look. The robe was barely hanging on her, the way she curled into Darren—bare skin, sleepy affection, total ease—it felt like a private scene I’d wandered into by accident.
Ashley turned to look at me and gave me a kind, almost apologetic smile. “Thanks for giving us the bed, babe.”
“Yeah,” Darren added, voice syrupy. “Real generous of you.”
I nodded. “No problem.”
Darren leaned forward and murmured something in her ear that made her laugh, then cover her mouth.
“What?” I asked, almost against my will.
Ashley shook her head. “He’s being an ass.”
Darren laughed. “I said you should be more grateful to me for putting your wife in a good mood.”
Darren leaned back slightly, coffee in one hand, the other still tracing idly along Ashley’s bare thigh. He was enjoying me burn with humiliation. His fingers had wandered higher now, grazing beneath the hem of her robe—territory he clearly felt comfortable in.
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