Rain of sin!

I had spent an entire week trying to erase him from my mind. Deleting his messages, ignoring his calls and also convincing and lying to myself that what I felt for him was nothing more than a fleeting weakness. But no matter what I did, he lingered. Every morning, I woke up with his voice echoing faintly in my memory, that low, patient tone that somehow managed to crawl beneath my skin and stay there. By day four, I caught myself checking my phone for his name, even though I had sworn I wouldn’t. By day six, I realized silence from him hurt worse than any temptation he had ever whispered. I told myself I missed the friendship. That I just needed closure. Yeah, I needed to clear the air, to end this properly. Those are the thoughts that I put in my head just so I could make myself feel good. But, in the real sense, what I really missed was the way he looked at me like I was that rare get he hadn’t expected to find. When Tuesday came, I told my husband I needed to go in early to prepare some files. He smiled, kissed my cheek, and told me not to overwork myself. The tenderness in his eyes almost made me stay and be a pretty cute, obedient wife. But curiosity, guilt, and longing make a dangerous remix of my feelings, and I was already drowning in all three. Damn it! I looked up to see that the sky had suddenly darkened, obviously it was going to rain. But I wasn’t going to allow it to stop me from going to the office. The rain had started just as I parked in front of the office. I quickly picked up an umbrella and dashed towards the office. When I stepped into the building, the echo of my heels on the floor sounded too loud, like it was making an announcement of my arrival. But I want silence; the kind of quietness that came before truth or disaster. The door was unlocked. He was already there. Asher stood near the file cabinet, sorting through papers and I wondered why he would do my job for me! What a nut job of a man. The faint smell of his cologne hit me before his voice did. He looked up when I entered, his expression unreadable; calm, but his eyes gave him away. “Hey,” he said softly, like he was testing the word. “Hey.” I closed the door behind me. “We need to talk.” He nodded slowly, setting the papers aside. “That sounds final.” “It is,” I said, my voice steadier than my hands. “We can’t keep… whatever this is.” He didn’t argue right away. He just leaned back against the desk, folding his arms. “I was expecting you to say something like that anyway; Poppy, you’re f*****g predictable! I just knew it immediately you said we needed to talk because that was the only thing you kept saying from the beginning.” “Then you know it's true, this whole drama should stop, it's not right,” I replied. He chuckled lightly as his eyes trailed all over my body before his eyes finally rested on my eyes. “Knowing something’s true doesn’t it make it easy to accept?” I looked down at the floor, my pulse in my ears. “It’s wrong, Asher. We both know it.” He took a small step forward. “Then why are you here?” My head snapped up. “Because I needed to make things clear and, besides, this is my office.” “Or because you missed me,” he said with a soft smile, and I froze because my filthy brain overheated because of his words. He said it without arrogance… It wasn't a challenge, it was a confession. I tried to look away, but he didn’t let me. His gaze caught mine and held it like a hand closing over a secret. “Please Asher, don’t do that,” I whispered. “Don’t turn this into something…” “Something real?” he finished quietly, damn it. He has every word to complete every one of my unfinished statements, like he reads my mind. My throat tightened. “It can’t be real.” “Maybe not,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean it isn’t happening.” I hated that he was right. The silence that followed felt alive, pulsing between us; the air in the room grew heavy, filled with words neither of us dared to say. Finally, I whispered, “You’re married. And so am I.” He nodded once. “I know, that’s why I tried to stay away. Forget about my own marriage.” “I think you’re making it impossible for me.” He took another step, close enough that I could smell his cologne. “Maybe I am. But I’m tired of pretending I don’t feel this.” He whispered as his voice dropped lower. “And you’re tired too, aren’t you?” The question cut through me. Because yes, I was tired. Tired of lying to myself. Tired of pretending that my heart didn’t stutter every time he walked in. Tired of the guilt that came not from what we’d done, but from what I wanted to do. I turned away, hiding my face. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.” He hesitated behind me, and then said quietly, “I’m not asking for anything. I just want to understand why the thought of your body won’t leave my head.” His honesty disarmed me. He wasn’t trying to trick me into thinking he loved me, and I like that. I heard the faint shuffle of his shoes as he moved closer. My breath caught when I felt the warmth of him behind me. He didn’t touch me, but his nearness made every inch of my skin hum. “Asher,” I whispered, my voice trembling, “we can’t.” He leaned in, his words brushing my ear. “Then tell me to stop.” “I’m serious….” “So am I.” His tone deepened. “Tell me to stop, and I will. But if you don’t… then stop pretending you’re not feeling this.” My body went still. The right words were ‘no, stop, this is wrong.’ Yeah, that’s just the word, but they refused to move past my lips. My silence was louder than a confession. He knew it, and so did I. After a long moment, I turned around slowly. His eyes caught mine, steady, uncertain, but burning with the feeling that scared me Lust. “This is madness,” I said softly. He smiled faintly. “Then we’re both mad.” He reached up, his hand hesitating before brushing a strand of hair from my cheek. It was barely a touch, but it undid me completely. I closed my eyes, fighting a losing battle. When he spoke again, his voice was barely above a whisper. “You’ve been living in a cage for too long, Poppy. You just forgot what freedom felt like.” My eyes opened. “And what if freedom ruins everything?” “Then maybe it’s worth knowing what it feels like before it’s gone.” And then it happened again. He kissed me. It wasn’t desperate or wild; it was deep. The kind of kiss that feels like the truth I need to face. For a heartbeat, the world stopped spinning. My mind screamed ‘no’, but my heart whispered, ‘finally you’re getting closer to being f****d by the office s*x god!' And your fantasies about coming to reality. Poppy, you’re about to become a w***e just for your husband’s friend… congratulations girl.’ With that thought in mind, I deepened the kiss, exploring every inch of his mouth. god! He tastes like a strawberry. When we broke apart, I realized I was trembling. I stepped back, trying to gather myself. The air in the room was thick with everything we’d said without words. “I have to go,” I managed to say, reaching for my bag. I couldn’t stay in the space with him again for the day, else I might as well give in to the temptation of allowing him to bend me over. “Poppy,” he called softly, and I froze. He didn’t come closer this time. He just looked at me calm, sad, but unflinchingly honest. “Whatever happens after this,” he said, “don’t hate yourself for wanting to feel another man’s c**k in you.” That single line followed me all the way home. ******* When I walked through the door, the familiar scent of home greeted me…. My husband was cooking lunch. Obviously, he didn’t go to school because of the heavy rain that wouldn’t stop pouring. The faint hum of the TV, the safety of it all felt almost painful. “Babe, you’re soaked,” he said when he saw me. “Come here.” He wrapped a towel around me and smiled, warmth radiating from him. “You should’ve called so I could bring an umbrella for you and why did you leave work in this heavy rain. It’s risky driving.” I nodded, forcing a small laugh. “I know, honey; I just couldn’t stay still at work because I missed you.” He kissed my forehead, his touch was so gentle it broke that filthy thought inside me. Because here was the man who loved me, who had never done anything wrong… and I couldn’t meet his eyes without feeling the weight of another man’s breath on my lips. I leaned in, pushing my tongue in his mouth, I moved my hand up under his shirt and as our tongues twisted in each other’s mouth, he casually moved his hand to my boobs, and fondled it softly. I wanted him to feel how hard my n*****s were, and so I took his hand, and moved it until he could feel it. David was smiling as we continued to kiss and then rubbing it he jokingly asked, "You are hyperactive, looks like you have really missed me.” I couldn’t help but smile too, and wanted to feel him in my p***y to bring my brain back from wherever it had gone. I slid my hand, trying to feel his hard on through his pants as we continued to kiss.