My Latin Dancer Wife - Chapter 9: Chapter 9

Fiona Lowell was stunning—delicate features, porcelain skin without a single flaw, and curves that defied her petite frame. She had that classic hourglass figure—full breasts, a tiny waist—and a voice like honey, sweet with just a trace of Southern charm. When she pouted? Impossible to resist.
"Kevin, come on," she whined, clinging to my arm at dinner, her body pressed against mine. "It's almost the end of the month, and I'm still way behind on my quota. You have to help me."
She barely touched her food, too busy working me over.
I smirked. "It's not that I don't want to. But this commission's over ten grand—half the office is fighting for it. What do I get out of it?"
"You're terrible!"
She smacked my arm playfully, but her eyes said everything.
After dinner, we caught a movie. Then, inevitably, a hotel room.
I won't lie—Fiona's body was unreal. And knowing she was Kyle's wife? That just made it hotter. I took her hard, over and over, until she collapsed against me, breathless.
"Kevin, you're awful," she murmured, her legs trembling. "I can barely move."
I took a drag of my cigarette, grinning. "Funny, I don't remember you complaining earlier. In fact, I'm pretty sure you were begging for more."
"Stop!"
Blushing, she buried her face in the sheets, giggling as she swatted at my chest.
After that first night, there was a second. Then a third. Even after the contracts were signed, we kept meeting—sometimes at her suggestion.
One night, tracing lazy circles on her bare back, I asked, "Aren't you worried your husband will find out?"
She scoffed. "Him? Please. I never wanted to marry him—my parents forced me. And he's useless. Always out with his loser friends running that pathetic food truck. Who knows what he's really doing?"
Curious, I prodded. "So you two never…?"
"Just the wedding night." She rolled her eyes. "Ten seconds. Pathetic. After a few tries, I kicked him out. Last I checked, he was still jerking off to porn."
Suddenly, I almost felt bad for her. No wonder Kyle drowned himself in work—he couldn't even satisfy his own wife.
Our affair lasted over a month.
When I finally got bored, I sent Kyle the videos. "Your wife's incredible. Since you couldn't handle her, I did. She told me you're a joke—ten seconds. She's done with you. She's mine now."
He lost it.
Confronted, Fiona didn't even flinch.
"I gave you chances!" she spat in front of both their families. "You failed. Should I just suffer forever? If you've got a problem, we can divorce right now."
Kyle stood there, humiliated, with nothing to say. His deepest shame? Now everyone knew.