He already had his c**k inside me when my husband’s text lit up the kitchen counter.
The house was empty except for us. No furniture left in the great room, just the echo of our breathing and the wet sound of him f*****g me against the bare island. My skirt was shoved to my waist, panties ripped and hanging off one ankle. The real estate agent—Evan—had one hand fisted in my hair and the other spread across my lower back, holding me bent while he drove into me in long, heavy thrusts. Every stroke pushed a broken sound out of my throat. My phone buzzed again.
How’d the private showing go? Any offers yet?
Evan didn’t slow. He reached over, swiped the screen to life with his thumb, and angled it so I could see my husband’s name. Then he f****d me harder, the thick drag of his c**k forcing s
