This pain, snaking like black tendrils through her chest, sank deeper and deeper the longer she watched. She was caught between it and the erotic nearly hypnotic scene before her.
She cringed at the way the words rolled off the woman’s tongue. They were a raspy whisper that sounded ugly to her ears. But the worst part is that they seemed to encourage his hips to move with more passion and aggression than she thought her husband capable of.
He was still handsome even now. The muscles of his back straining, his ass flexing as he pumped himself into the woman beneath him. Sweat on his back glittered in the light and it looked sexy on him, it looked right. Him with that woman… Fucking her… It all seemed right while she felt wrong in every way.
The pain in her chest twisted a little more, but she couldn’t turn away or put a stop to anything. So, she watched.
Leaning against the door, sapped of all strength, she watched and imagined that it was her feeling the thick slide of her husband’s cock. He’d always been capable of drawing out her passion. He’d fit himself against her and pump slow and easy until she’d moan in breathy ecstasy. This woman he treated differently, not like a delicate flower who’d break if he pushed too hard.
In spite of her pain, that space between her thighs tingled with awareness. Of remembered sex and release.
The other woman keened as he drilled her, the bed vibrating and the sharp slap of skin doing nothing to drown out the noise.
She pressed her side harder into the wood of the door, praying it would keep her from shattering into a billion pieces. Not yet, she could fall apart, but not until she saw the total abandon on his face when he came. Then she’d pack her things, find a place to stay, and cry herself to sleep.
The signs showed themselves. His hips jerking erratically, the burbled moans spilling from his lips. She waited a moment more before moving forward on shaky legs. Each step brought her closer, closer, until she could smell his sweat and the musky tang of sex.
Clearing the foot of the bed, she circled around, slowing her steps as the other woman’s face came into view.
She was pretty, all blonde hair and full lips. Lips that opened wide in a gasp when their eyes met. The fear in the depths of the woman’s eyes should have comforted her, but all she felt was that suffocating pain in her chest.
It was easy to ignore the blonde’s panicked cry and focus on her husband. God, he was beautiful like this. Sweat dotting his brow and damping the brown hairs at his temples made him look otherworldly as he tumbled into his release. He threw his head back, groaning his satisfaction with each jerk of his hips.
She didn’t even realize she’d gasped aloud until he opened his eyes and found her.
“Fuck!” He trembled from surprise and pleasure, his orgasm holding him in its grip. “Claire.”
It was impossible to speak past the lump closing her throat, instead she turned to leave. She’d return later, now she needed a safe place to release the flood of feelings choking her.
She just kept walking. Out of the room, out the house, out of this life. Away. His passion filled face played on a loop in her minds eye. All she could think was he’d never once fucked her like he wanted her that much, had never looked so sated from her after. The happiness she’d imagined her life to hold looked cold all of a sudden.