My cheeks flush when I open the doors and step onto the balcony, pulling the sleeves of the white button-up down to lessen the bumps on my skin. I walk towards the railing in utter admiration, leaning my elbows against the metal rod for support, the fresh air soothing the lump I had in my throat. The city quietly sleeps, you see, but still remains alive. Lights flood every street corner and premise perceived, overshadowing sins we attempt to hide. I can hear them from afar, the loud moans in bedrooms, the erotic screams in houses, the hot sighs in cars, the dirty whispers in alleyways. We become sinners at our best, commit scandals and infidelities once the moon arises, unable to withhold our cravings for lust and ecstasy, a satisfaction our jobs can no longer bring us. So we tuck in our children and wish them sweet dreams, kiss our husbands and wives goodnight…only to sneak off and embrace another lover at night, a complete devil in disguise.
If my husband wasn't committing these sins at the moment, I wouldn't be here. If my husband actually loved me like he said he always did, I wouldn't have let this man seduce me the night of our fight. I wouldn't have let him charm me, touch me, kiss me, taste me, eat me…fuck me. I wouldn't have moaned in his ears, screamed his name… begged him, pleaded him, desired him…I wouldn't have fallen for someone who is willing to give me everything I want, everything I need. If my husband wasn't eating pussies and pounding ass holes of various women every night, this man wouldn't be mine. I wouldn't be his.
I hear soft yet heavy footsteps approach the balcony, getting closer and closer to my body, causing my breath to quicken. I don't have to turn around to know who it is.
He doesn't say a word once his bare chest presses against my back. His lips tickle my ear, and I bite my bottom lip when he licks and nibbles on the lobe. I can't help but lean to the side, wanting him to run his soft tongue along the length of my neck, closing my eyes as he sucks and marks my skin.
"What are you thinking about, baby?" he questions, his hand coming around to unbutton the shirt I wore, his shirt, grazing his soft fingers along my now naked torso, my breasts.
I gasp at the sensation, warmth spreading along my body once I feel something hard press against my lower back, "It’s who…my husband."
He pauses his movements, "And why is that, love?"
"I was thinking about what you said earlier," I sigh as he continues what he's been doing to me, suddenly massaging my breast in his palm, teasing my nipples.
"And what was that?" he whispers, unclipping my hair, running his fingers through the soft strands.
I turn around and attempt not to blush at his nakedness, his wet hair, his fresh showered scent. His eyes are already hungry for me, his lips parting in a desire to taste me, to take me against this railing and let all those who dare to watch do so.
I look him in his lustful, dark eyes, and run my fingers through his messy hair, "About needing him to see, about needing him to know."
I move away from him and walk inside the hotel room. We've created a mess; white bed sheets sprawled all across the mattress, tangled, dirty, filled with heat. The headboard has nail marks, scratches, little dents and chips on the edge of the wood as if we've attacked it. If I wasn't paying attention, he would have broken it…and the desk too.
I was about to reach for my phone on the nightstand, but then he grabs my hand in his, yanks me towards him, backs me up to a wall, and slams my back gently against it. I gasp once he closes the distance between us, his lips almost touching my own, feeling his warm breath on my tongue.
"Say it," he whispers, his fingers slowly moving down my body to grip my upper thigh, "tell me. Don’t be shy."
I stare into his eyes with intention. I want him to see the change in me, want him to notice that something dark and murderous crawls inside of me. It's ripping through my flesh with sharp snarled teeth, starving for a delicious meal, for blood, hungry for two.
I move my face closer to his, and slowly lick his full upper lip with the tip of my tongue, "I want revenge."
He caresses the warmth between my legs, spreading them open so he can feel me and play with my heat, "And?"
"I…I want him to suffer," I moan.
He wraps his strong hand around my throat, lightly choking me before gripping my chin. My breath hitches when he intensifies the pressure with his other hand between my legs, creating a rhythm I want more of, a pleasure I can't help but desire.
"I want him to fucking pay," I say firmly.
He groans before roughly pressing his mouth against my own, tasting and swallowing me, devouring the inner corners of my mouth as he licks and sucks my lips. And I kiss him back, hungrily, needing him as if he was the only air I could find. I moan when he pulls apart, and watch his eyes focus on my swollen mouth.
He smiles, moving my chin from side to side, "You're such a good fucking girl, you know that?"
Before I can respond, he releases me, and quickly picks me up from the floor, wrapping my legs around his waist.
I don't waste any time.
I kiss him as he moves us to the bed, feeling the mattress beneath me, devouring a man who always knows what's best for me. When he's finally inside me, I dig my nails into his upper back, into his hot, sweaty flesh, making him bleed and groan as he takes me over and over and over again, screaming his name, cursing into red walls and wet window panes, thirsting for more, craving his sex. My God, I never want him to be done with me. I never want him to stop.
And once we finally catch our breaths after many hours of explicit actions and positions, my phone vibrates on the nightstand.
My husband is calling.
I let it go to voicemail.
"So when are we going to kill him, baby? When will your husband finally get what he deserves?" he pulls my hair to the side, biting my shoulder.
I smile, "I want his blood. Tonight."