The Woman Trapped in a Sexless Marriage - Chapter 19: Chapter 19
You are reading The Woman Trapped in a Sexless Marriage, Chapter 19: Chapter 19. Read more chapters of The Woman Trapped in a Sexless Marriage.
The office clock struck eight as I walked in. Being his personal secretary meant my morning routine - organizing documents, sorting through last night's faxes, while a steady stream of employees knocked with their reports.
By mid-morning, I finally caught my breath and remembered the unsigned file. When I stepped into his office, that familiar mischievous grin made my cheeks burn. "You're impossible," I muttered under my breath.
Then he did the unthinkable - locked the door and pulled me into his arms. My protest died in my throat as his hands slid under my dress, his fingers working magic on my breasts until I was clinging to him, our lips locked in a desperate kiss. When he tilted his chin down, I knew exactly what he wanted. Face flaming, I sank to my knees, unbuckling his belt with practiced ease. This man had ruined me - and I loved every sinful second of it.
Later, as we left work, I glared at him. "You owe me new pantyhose!" The wind whipped at my white chiffon skirt, forcing me to hold it down while he smirked.
"Sweetheart, I'll buy you a dozen." Our shadows merged in the golden sunset, and for that moment, everything was perfect.
But six months later, the cracks appeared. Business dinners. Late meetings. Empty excuses that left me lonelier than before. To fill the void, I signed up for swimming lessons at an exclusive club - specifically requesting a female instructor.
This morning, I stood poolside in my barely-there pink swimsuit (the saleswoman had insisted my curves didn't need padding) when a deep voice interrupted my search.
"Miss? I'm afraid Coach Watson is out today." The head coach - all tanned skin and sculpted muscles in red briefs - extended a hand. "I'll be taking your lesson."
Despite my reservations about male instructors, his professional smile and... impressive physique had me nodding. As we warmed up, my eyes kept betraying me, drawn to the noticeable outline in his trunks. And he wasn't exactly behaving either - his gaze kept dropping to where my swimsuit plunged dangerously low.
In this empty morning session, with just the two of us, the air felt charged with something far more intense than chlorine.
By mid-morning, I finally caught my breath and remembered the unsigned file. When I stepped into his office, that familiar mischievous grin made my cheeks burn. "You're impossible," I muttered under my breath.
Then he did the unthinkable - locked the door and pulled me into his arms. My protest died in my throat as his hands slid under my dress, his fingers working magic on my breasts until I was clinging to him, our lips locked in a desperate kiss. When he tilted his chin down, I knew exactly what he wanted. Face flaming, I sank to my knees, unbuckling his belt with practiced ease. This man had ruined me - and I loved every sinful second of it.
Later, as we left work, I glared at him. "You owe me new pantyhose!" The wind whipped at my white chiffon skirt, forcing me to hold it down while he smirked.
"Sweetheart, I'll buy you a dozen." Our shadows merged in the golden sunset, and for that moment, everything was perfect.
But six months later, the cracks appeared. Business dinners. Late meetings. Empty excuses that left me lonelier than before. To fill the void, I signed up for swimming lessons at an exclusive club - specifically requesting a female instructor.
This morning, I stood poolside in my barely-there pink swimsuit (the saleswoman had insisted my curves didn't need padding) when a deep voice interrupted my search.
"Miss? I'm afraid Coach Watson is out today." The head coach - all tanned skin and sculpted muscles in red briefs - extended a hand. "I'll be taking your lesson."
Despite my reservations about male instructors, his professional smile and... impressive physique had me nodding. As we warmed up, my eyes kept betraying me, drawn to the noticeable outline in his trunks. And he wasn't exactly behaving either - his gaze kept dropping to where my swimsuit plunged dangerously low.
In this empty morning session, with just the two of us, the air felt charged with something far more intense than chlorine.
End of The Woman Trapped in a Sexless Marriage Chapter 19. Continue reading Chapter 20 or return to The Woman Trapped in a Sexless Marriage book page.