She feels the slickness of her own arousal as it coats his shaft, a physical mark of her surrender. She isn't just a wife anymore; she is a woman who has been conquered, her body having betrayed her most public and most shameful way.
She stares at the ceiling, tears of pure embarrassment streaming down her temples, feeling the heavy, wet reality of her defeat.
The laughter of the man who just dismantled her soul still echoes in the humid air of the bedroom. Mike doesn't give her a moment to recover or to hide her face in the pillows.
With a firm, commanding grip on her waist, he pushes her backward. Marielle's legs, still trembling and weak from the violent eruption of her orgasm, can barely support her.
She falls back onto the silk sheets, her body sinking into the mattress as she lies there, completely naked, drenched in a mixture of her own sweat and the torrential spray of her release.
