Chapter 2
Eric returned the next day, suitcase in hand, looking tired from the flight but smiling when he saw me. I met him at the door, kissed him hello, and tried to act normal. Normal was impossible.
“You seem to be in a good mood” he said.
But the glow he noticed wasn’t just my mood. My body felt different—looser, lighter, like someone had unlocked a muscle I didn’t know was clenched for twenty years. My body felt incredibly relaxed.
Over the next few days, the changes piled up in small, undeniable ways.
Eric started noticing that I walked differently. My hips swayed a little more when I crossed the kitchen.
He noticed I was dressing cuter. Nothing dramatic—just softer sundresses instead of my usual yoga pants and T-shirt, a touch of lip gloss, mascara every morning. I told myself it was for me, but I knew better. Every time I passed a mirror, I thought of Austin’s eyes on me.
I kept glancing out the kitchen window toward the guesthouse. Not obvious stares—just quick looks while I washed dishes or folded towels. Once Eric caught me doing it, standing there with a dish towel in my hand, and I turned away fast, pretending to wipe a spot on the counter.
He didn’t say anything at first. He just watched.
By the third evening, the air in the house felt thick with everything unsaid. We were on the couch after dinner, some mindless show playing in the background. Eric muted the TV, turned to me, and said quietly, “Claire, you seem different.”
My stomach dropped. I tried to laugh it off. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know, you just seem different,” he said. “You’re… happy. Really happy. And you keep looking the window.”
I opened my mouth, closed it. My throat felt tight. “It’s nothing.”
“Claire.” His voice was gentle but firm. “Tell me.”
I looked down at my hands. They were shaking. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Then don’t lie to me.”
So I told him.
I started slow—about the power going out, the text from Austin, going over to stay warm. I told him about the flirting, how it felt innocent until it wasn’t. I told him about the kiss. The clothes coming off. The way Austin touched me like he’d been waiting to do it for weeks.
Eric listened without interrupting. His face stayed calm, but I saw his jaw tighten once, twice.
I kept going because stopping felt worse. I told him how Austin had kissed down my body, how his tongue felt, how I’d never been touched like that. I told him about seeing Austin hard for the first time—long, thick, curved upward in a way that made my breath catch just remembering it.
Eric just listened.
Finally after I got it all out, he spoke.
His voice was low. “Was he… bigger?”
I swallowed. “Yes.”
“How much bigger?”
I hesitated.
“A lot. Longer. Thicker. The shape was different. It… it reached places you don’t.”
Silence. Heavy. Then he asked the question I knew was coming.
“Did you come?”
I couldn’t look at him. “Yes.”
“From sex? From him inside you?”
“Yes.” My voice cracked. “For the first time. Ever. I didn’t even know it could feel like that.”
Eric exhaled slowly. “What was different?”
“It wasn’t just the size,” I said, the words spilling out now. “He knew what he was doing. He moved at exactly the right rhythm, the right depth. He paid attention to my body—when I needed it slow, when I needed it harder. He flipped me over, held my hips, pulled me back onto him… and every time he thrust, it hit this spot inside me that just… built and built until I couldn’t hold it anymore. I came so hard I shook. I cried out. I’ve never done that before.”
I finally looked up. Eric’s eyes were dark, pupils blown wide. He was breathing through his mouth. His hands were clenched on his thighs.
He didn’t speak for a long time. The room was so quiet I could hear the clock ticking in the kitchen.
I was waiting for him to blow a gasket.
Then, in a rough voice, he said, “Claire. I’m rock hard.”
My heart stuttered. I’d braced for anger, tears, silence—but not this.
I reached for him, needing to fix it, to make it better. “Eric, I’m sorry. I love you. I don’t want to lose us.”
He shook his head. “Don’t apologize.”
I slid closer on the couch, my hand moving to his lap. I wanted to show him he was still wanted, that this didn’t erase him. I unzipped his jeans, slipped my hand inside.
He was rock-hard. But when my fingers wrapped around him, I felt the warm, sticky wetness already there.
He’d come in his pants. Just listening to me describe what Austin did to me.
I froze, fingers slick with him. Eric’s face went red—embarrassment, shame, arousal all at once.
I didn’t pull away. I stroked him gently, feeling him twitch even though he’d already finished.
“Eric…” I whispered.
He closed his eyes. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“Nothing’s wrong,” I said, and I meant it. “You’re turned on. That’s okay.”
He opened his eyes, looked at me like he was seeing me for the first time. “I should be angry. I should be hurt. But all I can think about is… you with him. And how he made you cum.”
My pulse raced. “Do you want to know anything else?”
He swallowed hard. “Maybe. Later.”
I leaned in and kissed him—slow, soft, full of everything we’d built over twenty years. When I pulled back, I whispered, “I’m still yours.”
He nodded, but the look in his eyes said something else entirely.
Something new had started.
And we both knew it wasn’t going to stop.
