The next morning, sunlight slanted through the bedroom curtains. Steve and Nicki lay tangled in the sheets, two mugs of coffee steaming on the nightstand. They’d woken early, still buzzing from the night before, bodies loose and satisfied.
Nicki propped herself on one elbow, red hair a messy halo. “Do you think he heard us last night?”
Steve took a slow sip, eyes twinkling. “Jim? Either he was dead to the world… or he had his ear pressed right against the wall like a teenager.”
She laughed softly, covering her mouth. “God, the thought of him listening…” She trailed off, cheeks pinking. “It shouldn’t turn me on. But it does. A little.”
Steve set his mug down and pulled her closer, kissing her temple. “We’re filthy, both of us.”
“Speak for yourself,” she teased, but her hand slid down his stomach, resting just above his softening cock. “You came so hard when I whispered about him maybe hearing.”
He groaned. “Guilty.”
They finished their coffee in comfortable silence, trading lazy kisses until Steve finally rolled out of bed.
“Run time. Back in forty.”
Nicki watched him pull on shorts and trainers, admiring the familiar lines of his back, the way his legs still looked strong from all those miles. “Don’t be too long.”
He winked and left.
Nicki stayed in bed a minute longer, then slipped into her favourite short silk robe—the claret one, barely skimming mid-thigh, the tie loose enough that it gaped when she moved. She loved how it felt against her skin, cool and decadent, even if it left little to the imagination.
Downstairs, she stood at the kitchen sink rinsing mugs, warm water running over her hands. She didn’t hear Jim come in.
He stepped up behind her, close enough that she felt the heat of him. One large hand slid around her waist, steady and familiar in a way that made her breath catch. He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.
“Morning, sweetie,” he murmured, voice still gravelly from sleep. “I hope I wasn’t too loud on the phone last night?”
Then—casual as anything—his palm patted her arse, a light, affectionate smack through the silk, before he stepped back and pulled out a chair.
“Couldn’t make me a coffee, could you, love?”
Nicki’s heart slammed against her ribs. She turned slowly, cheeks flaming, but managed a small, shaky smile. “You were… a little loud,” she said, voice soft but teasing. “Hard to miss. Sounded like you were having fun.”
Jim chuckled low, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Glad someone enjoyed the show.”
She blushed deeper, busying herself with the kettle, but the words hung between them—playful, loaded.
When she brought the mug over, he took it with a warm “Thanks, darlin’,” his gaze drifting down the front of her robe. The silk had slipped just enough—parted at the tie—so that the inner curve of one small, firm breast was visible, nipple shadowed but unmistakable.
Jim’s eyes flicked up to hers again. He smiled, easy and unembarrassed.
Why is he looking at me like that? She glanced down, realised how exposed she was, and heat flooded her face.
“I’m just… going to get dressed.”
She turned quickly, robe fluttering, and hurried upstairs.
By the time Steve got back—sweaty, glowing—she was in jeans and a soft jumper, hair tied back, pretending to read in the living room. She didn’t mention the kitchen moment. Not yet.
That evening, after another early “tired” goodnight to Jim, they locked the bedroom door and slid under the covers with the phone between them.
They opened the unfinished story from the night before—the one about the husband’s friend and the wife.
Steve started reading again, voice low.
“She couldn’t stop thinking about the way he’d looked at her that morning… robe open just enough… his hand brushing her waist like it belonged there…”
Nicki’s hand found Steve’s cock under the sheet, stroking slowly.
He kept going.
“That night, she waited until the house was quiet. Then she padded down the hall in nothing but panties… knocked softly on his door…”
Nicki shifted closer. “Steve… this morning…”
He paused, thumb brushing her nipple through her nightie. “Tell me.”
“Jim came into the kitchen while I was at the sink. Put his arm around me. Kissed my forehead. Called me sweetie, said he hoped he wasn’t too loud on the phone last night.” She hesitated, then whispered, “I told him he was a little loud… that it sounded like he was having fun. Then he patted my arse. Just… patted it. Like it was normal.”
Steve’s cock jerked in her hand.
“And?” he asked, voice rough.
“My robe slipped open. He could see my breast—my nipple—and at first I didn’t realise. He looked. Thanked me for the coffee. Smiled like nothing happened.”
Steve exhaled hard. “How did you feel?”
Nicki’s thighs pressed together. “Mortified. Heart racing. And… very, very wet.”
He groaned, rolling her onto her back.
“Jesus, Nicki.”
She guided his hand between her legs—already slick again.
“Keep reading,” she breathed.
Steve did, thrusting two fingers inside her as he spoke.
“He pulled her onto the bed… kissed her slowly… told her how beautiful she was… how long he’d noticed her…”
Nicki arched, rocking against his hand.
“Imagine it was me,” she whispered. “This morning. His hand on my waist… lower…”
Steve’s fingers curled, hitting that spot. “You liked it.”
“Yes,” she admitted, shameless now. “Not him touching me—not really—but the idea. Being seen. Wanted. By someone who shouldn’t.”
Steve set the phone aside. He kissed down her body, pushed her thighs wide, and licked her—slow, deliberate circles around her clit.
She gripped his hair. “Don’t stop…”
He didn’t. Tongue and fingers worked together until she shattered, biting her own wrist to muffle the cry.
When she could breathe again, she pulled him up and guided him inside her.
“Fuck me,” she whispered. “While we think about it.”
He thrust deep, steady, possessive.
“Next time he pats your arse,” Steve growled against her ear, “I want you to imagine you’re the woman Jim has been talking to on the phone.”
“Yes…”
“And then as I’ll fuck you hard, you can pretend you’re that woman, and I’m Jim.”
His voice dropped lower, rougher, mimicking the gravelly tone they’d heard through the wall.
“That’s it, darlin’… spread those pretty legs for me… let me see that wet little pussy… fuck, you’re so tight around my cock… take it all, love… come for your Jim…”
The words sent her over the edge again—she clenched hard around him, crying out softly as waves rolled through her. He followed seconds later, groaning deep in his throat, spilling inside her.
They lay panting, bodies slick, the unfinished story still glowing on the discarded phone.
Nicki kissed his jaw. “We’re terrible.”
Steve smiled into her hair. “We’re alive.”
Down the hall, the house was quiet.
Then—a faint click. Jim’s TV turning on, volume low at first… then even lower, as if someone had reached for the remote and deliberately turned the sound down.
Is he listening?
For now, they didn’t know.
But the possibility hung in the dark like smoke.
