The room had gone quiet, the only sounds left were our slow breathing and the faint hum of the air conditioner. Lara rested half on top of me, her bare breasts pressed softly against my chest, one leg draped over my thigh. Her stockings were still on—black lace clinging to her legs, garter straps loose now but still hooked around her hips. My arms were wrapped around her back, fingers tracing lazy lines up and down her spine. We were both naked, skin still warm and sticky from everything we’d just done, but neither of us made any move to get up or cover ourselves.

She lifted her head a little, resting her chin on my sternum so she could look at me. Her dark hair fell forward, brushing my shoulder. One finger started drawing slow circles on my chest, right over my heart. 𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞

"So... you got a girlfriend?" she asked, voice soft and curious. "Not like you want to tell me."

I let out a small breath through my nose, hand pausing on her back.

"Again that question," I said, reminding her gently. "Come on. I already told you—I don’t have anyone."

She curved her lips into a knowing little smile, eyes narrowing playfully.

"I don’t believe you," she said. "I know when a man is lying."

I raised one eyebrow, giving her a half-smile in return.

"Why are you girls so interested in my personal life?" I asked lightly. "You do know it’s outside the contract—creating any kind of relationship outside this room and the hours we’re paid for. I can’t, and I’m not interested in selling my private stuff."

She huffed, turning her face away with an exaggerated pout, cheek squishing against my chest.

"Hmph... meanie!"

I laughed under my breath, the sound rumbling low in my throat. I reached up with one hand, caught her chin gently between my thumb and fingers, and turned her face back toward me so our eyes met again.

"Wha—?" she started, but I cut her off softly.

"You tell me, Miss Married Woman," I said, thumb brushing the edge of her lower lip. "How is it being with your husband?"

Her eyes widened just a fraction—surprised, caught off guard. A fresh blush crept up her cheeks, pink spreading from her neck to the tips of her ears. She opened her mouth, closed it again, then bit her lip like she was deciding how much to say.

I kept my hand on her chin, light but steady, thumb stroking once along her jawline.

"Come on," I said quieter. "Fair’s fair. You keep asking about me... now it’s your turn."

She exhaled slowly, the breath warm against my skin. Her eyes flicked down to my mouth, then back up.

The room felt softer now, the dim white lights painting everything in a gentle glow. Lara lay curled against me, head resting on my chest, one leg still draped lazily over my thigh. Her stockings were wrinkled but still on, garter straps loose around her hips. My arm was wrapped around her back, hand resting low on the curve of her waist. Our bodies were warm, sticky, completely relaxed after everything.

She tilted her head back a little, eyes drifting up to the ceiling like she was seeing something far away.

"My husband is like..." she started quietly, voice thoughtful, "...the most sweet, cute, and innocent type."

I raised an eyebrow, thumb brushing slow circles on her lower back.

"So do you love him?" I asked.

She turned her face toward me, eyes meeting mine straight on—no hesitation, no games this time.

"That’s not even a question, babe," she said flatly. "I love him a lot. More than anything or anyone."

"Ohho... that’s good to know," I said softly, letting my hand slide lower, tracing the dip of her waist and the swell of her hip.

"Yeah," she continued, a small, grateful smile tugging at her lips. "He keeps asking about me, looks after me. Feeds me, cooks for me when I’m sick. He’s surely like an ideal man for me."

Her voice had gone warm, almost fond, remembering him.

I gave her ass a gentle squeeze and pulled her a little closer, our naked bodies pressing tighter together.

"But then yet you’re here with another man..." I said, voice low and teasing, fingers kneading softly into her cheek.

"Ahmm..." She gasped quietly at the touch, then smiled—small, knowing, a little guilty. "About that..."

She shifted, propping herself up on one elbow so she could look down at me properly. One finger started playing idly with my nipple—light circles, no rush.

"There are some hidden feelings and fetishes I’ve realized I cannot overcome," she said, her face slowly closing in until our noses almost touched.

I raised an eyebrow, keeping my tone light but curious.

"And what are those hidden feelings and fetishes?" I asked. "I’m sure it must be more than just sex."

She gave a tiny laugh—soft, almost shy—then her hand drifted lower, fingers wrapping loosely around my dick again, stroking slow and gentle.

"Yeah... you see..." she said, eyes flicking between mine and her own hand, "...I said right that I love fucking around."

"Yeah...?" I exhaled, the slow rub already waking me up again despite how spent we both were.

She nodded, biting her lower lip for a second.

"It’s not just the sex," she admitted quietly. "It’s the... thrill. The feeling of doing something wrong. Of being bad. Of being wanted so badly that someone doesn’t care about rules or rings or anything else." Her voice dropped even lower. "My husband—he’s perfect. Sweet. Safe. He would never push me, never take what he wants without asking ten times first. And I love that about him. I really do."

Her fingers tightened slightly around me, thumb brushing the head.

"But sometimes... I want the opposite. I want rough. I want someone who just takes. Who makes me feel like I’m not in control. Like I’m... owned for a little while." She looked straight into my eyes. "That’s why I come here. To feel that rush. To feel dirty and wanted and bad... without hurting him."

She leaned in closer, lips brushing my jaw.

"And tonight?" she whispered. "Tonight was perfect. You gave me exactly what I needed."

I slid my hand up her back, fingers tangling gently in her hair.

"So you love him," I said quietly, "but you need this too."