Marcus sent the message Friday morning: “Pack light. I’m picking you up at 2. Tell him you have a work retreat. No phones this weekend.”
Vera’s hands shook as she typed “yes” back. She lied to her husband without blinking, packed a small bag with nothing but lingerie and lube, and waited on the corner like a woman running away from her own life.
The drive up to the private cabin took two hours. Marcus kept one hand on her thigh the whole way, fingers sliding higher every few minutes, teasing her through her jeans. By the time they arrived, she was soaked again.
The cabin was perfect—wooden, hidden in the trees, no neighbors for miles. As soon as the door closed, Marcus dropped the bags and grabbed her. He kissed her like he’d been starving for days, tongue deep, hands ripping at her clo
