I found out you cheated. The texts were right there… filthy messages to her. After everything, after all I gave you… you thought you could get away with it.
So I went to the gym... not to cry, but to plot. My trainer had always flirted, always given me those looks like he wanted more. Today… I let him have it. I whispered in his ear between sets, “Wanna come home with me… and help me teach someone a lesson?”
When we walked through the door, you were sitting on the couch. your face dropped. Confusion, panic, guilt… all written across your face.
I didn’t say a word. I just pulled my trainer in by the waistband, kissed him like I’d been starving for it.
Clothes hit the floor. His hands gripped my thighs, my back arched as he devoured every inch of me like he’d been waiting forever. I moaned, loud and shameless, locking eyes with you as my trainer’s strong body pinned me down.
I made sure you saw everything — every stroke, every scream of pleasure, every moment my body trembled under a man who actually knew how to please me. I’d glance over my shoulder, smirk, and whisper things like “This is how it’s supposed to feel.”