Asher's Offer

After that night, my thoughts started to revolve around Asher. Every morning, I woke up beside my husband; it was Asher’s voice that echoed in my head. The way he said my name, not sweetly, the way he looked at me. god! It drives me crazy, but I told myself it was a phase. Yea, it's just my curiosity. But the more I tried to silence it, the louder it became, and I can swear to it… it wasn’t love, no instead, it was a feeling far more dangerous than love. That feeling of restlessness and being alive all at once, lust. Yeah, that was exactly what I felt towards him. Sometimes I caught myself smiling at my phone, rereading an old message he’d sent about work, pretending it was nothing. Sometimes I found excuses to walk by his office, even when I didn’t need to. It was a slow kind of madness… I practically turned into stalking him. The days became harder to separate. Tuesday and Thursday work didn’t feel like work anymore. It felt like waiting… waiting for him to arrive, to say something or look at me in that way again. And at home, I still play a lovely wife role with my husband, who wouldn’t stop talking about Asher being the biggest flirt he had ever known, and I must confess it makes it get harder. It was a Thursday evening when everything changed. The office was quieter than usual. Most of the staff had gone early for a company dinner, and I had used the excuse of not feeling well to stay back. The truth was, I didn’t want to be surrounded by people. I wanted silence because all I wanted was the silence that came with him. I was alone at my desk, sorting through some files half-heartedly when I heard the soft sound of footsteps. My heart reacted before my mind did… it always did when it came to him. “You didn’t go with the team?” Asher’s voice floated through the room, calm and deep, like he’d known I’d be there. I didn’t look up immediately. “Didn’t feel like it,” I muttered, trying to sound casual. “Needed some quiet time!” He walked closer and, god, I could sense it; the shift in the atmosphere and the faint scent of his cologne mixing with the room’s stillness. He stopped a few feet away. “You don’t strike me as someone who likes quiet,” he replied softly. “You like control, silence makes you think too much.” I finally looked up at him, forcing a faint smile. “And you think you’ve figured me out already?” He tilted his head slightly. “Not even close. But I want to.” Those four words felt like an invisible hand tightening around my chest. My lips parted, but nothing came out. I stood up from my desk trying to keep distance, but he stepped closer, bridging it. “Asher…” I started, my voice quieter than I intended. “You shouldn’t…” I stammered, backing away. “I know,” he interrupted gently. “But knowing doesn’t make it stop,” I answered. His eyes locked onto mine, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe. His gaze wasn’t just looking at me… it was searching through me, and I hated how much I wanted him to find something. “You’re playing with fire,” I murmured with a low and dangerous voice. All he did was give a faint smile. “Then let me get burned.” I swallowed hard, torn between anger and a feeling that felt a lot like longing. “You have no idea what you’re saying.” “I do,” he said simply. “You’re the one pretending you don’t.” There he goes again with that quiet honesty that disarmed me every time. I looked away, focusing on the window, so that I could stare at the city lights glowing against the darkening sky, shifting my attention to anything but him. “This can’t happen,” I whispered. He didn’t move. “Then tell me to stop.” I turned back to him slowly. “What?” “Tell me,” he said with a soft seductive tone. “Tell me to stop looking at you this way, tell me you don’t feel it too, and I will stop.” My throat went dry. The words were right there… the easy, moral, responsible words I should’ve said. But they wouldn’t come out at all because I have been deeply infatuated with him for two f*****g years. My silence was the answer he didn’t need to hear. He stepped a little closer, and I didn’t move. The air between us felt like electricity, heavy, and fragile all at once. His presence was a gravity I couldn’t resist, even when I wanted to. “Asher,” I murmured, barely recognizing my own voice. “Have you lost your senses? You’re married too.” “I know,” he said emotionless “and did you think that would make this whole thing complicated? You don’t have to worry about it." We stood there, saying nothing, but everything was being said in silence. The ticking clock, the faint hum of the office lights, the distance between us… it all felt louder than words. Finally, I forced myself to move, to break the moment before it consumed me. I gathered the files in my hands, pretending to organize them, but my fingers trembled. He must have noticed because he took a slow step back, his jaw tightening. “I didn’t come here to make things harder,” he said quietly. “I just… needed to see you.” “Why?” I asked, looking up sharply. “Why do you keep doing this to me?” He hesitated, and then met my eyes again. “Because being around you makes me feel like I own you, and I want to. You make me feel whole. Poppy, you are different from every other hole I’ve ever dipped my d**k in. Look at you, a gorgeous lady with a banging body. Girl, your body is the real tea here. I want you, and you also want me. I promise you, you're not going to regret it because the feeling is mutual.” The words hit me like a confession. I wanted to hate him for saying it, but the truth was… I understood it, all of this is just s*x for him too. I’d been living my life on autopilot for so long that Asher felt like a reminder that I was still human… still capable of wanting, feeling, breaking rules I thought I’d buried beneath responsibility. I turned away before he could see the emotion rising in my eyes. “You should go.” "I am not going anywhere, Poppy," Asher murmured as he walked closer to me, forcing my back to the wall. His hands came up to cage me in, he raised his hand flatly against the wall on either side of my head and god-damn it, I felt the hardness of his body, and my p***y clenched in anticipation. I tried to move, but I couldn’t. Asher chuckled, a dark, seductive sound. "Liar," he whispered, leaning in, so his lips brushed against the shell of my ear. "You want this as much as I do. You want me, Poppy, just admit it." His hands left the wall, trailing down my arms, in the twinkle of an eye he gripped my wrists, pinning them above my head with one hand, while the other traced the curve of my waist. I gasped as his fingers dipped lower, teasing the edge of my skirt. "Asher, please," I moaned, and my hips buckled involuntarily. "Say it, Poppy," he commanded, his fingers dipping beneath the waistband of my skirt and god! His touch was feather-light against my sensitive skin. "Admit you want me, Poppy." ‘No poppy, what are you doing? Asher is not only your husband's colleague, they are friends’ With that thought, I was able to wake up from whatever pleasure I had going on in my body. “Let me go, Asher, please, we shouldn’t be doing this,” I said, pushing against his chest. His hand stayed on my waistband, his fingers still tracing my skin despite my warning. “I said stop” "Are you sure about that? Your body is reacting to my touch... I'm going to f**k you so hard right here in this office. I will bend you over the table and ram my c**k deep into your p***y. Your husband wouldn't find out about our affair... I want to make you scream my name..... Pop…" “Asher, shut the fuc... uck... up… how else did you want me to tell you this can never happen between us? I’m not going to betray my husband just for a fleeting moment. Or for some public cock.” I said those words even though I didn’t mean it, and he didn't get upset. Instead, he purred. "You just can't resist me," he teased, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Please leave!” I whispered shakily. He didn’t move at first. Then finally, he said in a low voice, “You don’t have to pretend with me, Poppy.” And just like that, he turned and left. The door clicked shut, and I stood there in the half-dark office, surrounded by the quietness I’d asked for. But it wasn’t peaceful, it was f*****g suffocating. I sank into my chair and pressed a hand to my chest, as if that would calm the storm inside me. His words replayed over and over in my f****d up mind. ‘I want to f**k you… You don’t have to pretend with me.’ That night, when I went home, I lay beside my husband, feeling the warmth of his body but the distance of a thousand miles between us. He mumbled something about his day, and I nodded at the right moments, I even smiled when I needed to.