“Girls’ night again?” Jacob asked, looking up from his laptop where a physical therapy video played, the instructor demonstrating shoulder mobility exercises with a resistance band.

Ashley nodded, applying mascara in the hall mirror. The lie had become easier with repetition, though something in her still flinched at how smoothly the deception now came. “Melissa broke up with that guy she was seeing. Amy suggested we take her out, maybe get some drinks.”

“That’s nice of you,” Jacob said, his smile genuine as he paused the video. “Tell Melissa she’s better off. That guy sounded like an asshole from what you told me.”

Guilt pricked at Ashley’s consciousness. Jacob’s trust, his complete lack of suspicion, made her betrayal all the more cutting. She tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, a nervous habit she couldn’t quite control.

“Don’t wait up,” she said, crossing the room to kiss him lightly on the forehead. “Might be a late one.”

“I’ve got my therapy exercises and that new sci-fi show to binge, so I’m set.” Jacob caught her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Have fun. You deserve a break from playing nurse.”

Ashley forced a smile, gathering her purse and keys, eager to escape before her expression betrayed her. “Love you,” she called over her shoulder.

In her car, Ashley’s heartbeat accelerated. Carlos’ apartment was across town, in one of those sleek high-rises with floor-to-ceiling windows and a doorman, a setting as different from the homey comfort of her place with Jacob as Carlos himself was different from her husband.

The drive gave her too much time to think, to second guess, to contemplate turning around. This was a significant escalation. Meeting at the gym, moments in his car, those could be compartmentalized as separate from her real life. But visiting his home, seeing where he lived, brought a new dimension of reality to what they were doing.

She almost turned back twice, her hands shaking slightly on the steering wheel as she navigated through evening traffic. But each time, an image of Carlos would surface in her mind, the intensity in his dark eyes, the commanding presence of his body, the way he seemed to see parts of her that Jacob never had, and her resolve would strengthen.

The building was exactly as she’d imagined. Modern, impersonal, impressive in a cold way. The doorman nodded as she gave the apartment number, directing her to the elevator with a professional smile that revealed nothing about what he might think of her late-evening visit.

Standing in front of his apartment door, Ashley hesitated one final time, her knuckles poised inches from the door. This was her last chance to turn back, to recommit to her marriage, to be the woman Jacob believed her to be. The thought flickered briefly before dissolving under the stronger current of desire that had carried her this far.

She knocked.

The door opened almost immediately, as if Carlos had been waiting just on the other side. He stood in the doorway, dressed casually in dark jeans and a fitted gray t-shirt that emphasized the muscular build she’d come to know fully through their training and their secret encounters. His expression revealed nothing beyond mild satisfaction at her arrival.

“You came,” he said, stepping back to allow her entry.

“I said I would.” Ashley moved past him into the apartment, immediately struck by the contrast to her own home. Where she and Jacob had filled their space with color, with personal touches and comfortable clutter, Carlos’s apartment was minimalist to the point of bareness. Sleek furniture in blacks and grays, a single large abstract painting on one wall, floor-to-ceiling windows offering a view of the city lights. No photographs, no mementos, no evidence of personal history or emotional attachments.

“Nice place,” she offered, setting her purse down on a glass-topped console table.

“It serves its purpose.” Carlos moved to a small bar setup in one corner of the living room. “Wine?”

“Please.” Ashley crossed to the windows, needing a moment to compose herself. The city spread out below, a tapestry of lights against the darkness, making her feel both powerful and insignificant.

Carlos appeared beside her, offering a glass of deep red wine. She took a larger sip than intended, grateful for the liquid courage.

“The view helps with visualization,” Carlos said, his own glass held loosely between long fingers. “When I’m preparing for competition, I look out at all those people going about their lives, completely unaware of each other. It reminds me that most opponents are the same. They see what’s on the surface, not what’s really happening.”

It was the most personal thing he’d ever shared with her, a glimpse behind the confident exterior he presented to the world. Ashley found herself unexpectedly touched by this small revelation.

“Is that how you see me?” she asked, turning to face him. “Someone who only sees the surface?”

Carlos studied her. “I think you’re just starting to see beneath your own surface. That’s more interesting.”

The observation hit uncomfortably close to home. Ashley turned back to the window, taking another sip of wine to mask her discomfort. “How long have you lived here?”

“Three years. Since I opened the gym.” Carlos moved closer, not quite touching but close enough. “But you didn’t come here to discuss my living arrangements.”

The directness, so characteristic of him, both unsettled and excited her. With Jacob, conversations circled topics, approached difficult subjects gradually, cushioned with consideration for feelings. Carlos cut straight to the heart of matters, exposing them.

“Maybe I’m just making conversation,” Ashley countered, a feeble attempt at maintaining some control over the situation.

Carlos smiled. “You’re nervous. That’s understandable. This is different from the gym or the car. More deliberate.”

“Yes,” she admitted, seeing no point in denying what he could so clearly read in her body language. “This feels more…”

“Real?” he supplied when she faltered. “Less like something that ‘just happened’ and more like something you chose?”

Ashley nodded, unable to meet his eyes. He had articulated precisely what made this visit so significant, the element of undeniable choice, of conscious decision rather than momentary weakness.

“Good.” Carlos took the wineglass from her hand, setting both his and hers on a nearby shelf. “Choices are important. They define us more than anything else.”

His hand came up to cup her face, turning her toward him. When their eyes met, Ashley saw none of the judgment or disappointment she’d feared, only a dark intensity that resonated with something equally primitive within her.

“Why am I here?” she asked, the question directed as much at herself as at him.

“Because you want something your husband can’t give you,” Carlos answered simply. “Because you’re tired of pretending to be satisfied with less than what you truly desire.”

The words cut through her defenses, exposing the truth she’d been avoiding acknowledging even to herself. Her marriage to Jacob was comfortable, loving, safe, but it had never ignited the kind of consuming passion she’d discovered with Carlos. Jacob’s gentleness, once cherished, now sometimes felt like timidity, his consideration like an inability to take control.

“And what do you get out of this?” she challenged, needing to understand his motivations, to know if she was just another conquest, another body to claim.

Carlos considered her question seriously. “You’re beautiful, yes. And the sex is exceptional. But there’s something more, a hunger in you that matches my own. I enjoy watching you discover parts of yourself you’ve kept hidden.” His voice dropped lower. “And I enjoy being the one to draw them out.”

The honesty in his response, the absence of flowery declarations or manipulative flattery, resonated more deeply than any practiced seduction could have. This was Carlos, direct, unapologetic about his desires, offering no more or less than what he truly felt.

“Kiss me,” Ashley said, the request emerging before she could second-guess herself.

Carlos didn’t hesitate. His mouth claimed hers with immediate intensity, all hunger and possession. His hands moved to her waist, pulling her firmly against him, the hard evidence of his arousal pressing against her stomach. Ashley responded, her fingers threading through his short hair, holding him close as their tongues explored with now-familiar rhythm.

They moved toward the couch without breaking contact. When the back of Ashley’s legs hit the leather, Carlos guided her down, positioning himself above her, his weight supported on his forearms. Their bodies aligned, his hips settling between her thighs, creating delicious pressure exactly where she craved it.

Carlos broke the kiss to trail his mouth down the column of her throat. “I’ve thought about having you here,” he murmured against her skin, sending shivers across her nerve endings. “In my space, away from the constraints of time or discovery.”

Ashley arched into his touch as his hands moved beneath her blouse, tracing her ribs, the undersides of her breasts. “I’ve thought about it too,” she admitted.

He sat back on his heels, looking down at her with evident appreciation. “Show me,” he directed, his tone making it clear this was not a request. “Undress for me.”

The command sent a jolt of arousal through Ashley’s core. Jacob had never directed her this way, had always approached intimacy with careful equality rather than dominance. She found herself responding to Carlos’s authority with eagerness, sitting up to pull her blouse over her head, revealing the black lace bra she’d selected specifically for this encounter.

Carlos watched with intensity as she continued undressing, unzipping her skirt, sliding it down her legs, removing her bra. When she was down to just her matching black underwear, he placed a hand on her thigh, stopping her.

“Slowly,” he instructed, his voice rougher now. “The rest slowly. I want to savor this.”

Ashley complied, hooking her thumbs in the waistband of her underwear, dragging it down slowly, revealing herself inch by inch to his hungry gaze. When she was finally naked, she resisted the urge to cover herself, instead meeting his eyes with a confidence that surprised even her.

“Beautiful,” Carlos said simply, his hand moving to the hem of his own shirt, pulling it off. His chest was familiar territory to Ashley now, the defined muscles, the dark hair narrowing to a trail that disappeared beneath his jeans, but seeing him undress in the privacy of his apartment, with no time constraints or fear of discovery, allowed her to appreciate him in a new way.

He stood to remove his jeans and boxer briefs, his erection springing free, thick and imposing. Ashley’s mouth went dry at the sight, her body responding with a rush of wetness between her legs. Carlos rejoined her on the couch, his naked form covering hers, skin against skin, the contact drawing a soft moan from her throat.

His mouth found hers again, his hand moving between her legs to find her already slick with arousal. “So wet,” he murmured with satisfaction, his fingers exploring her folds. “Always so responsive.”

Ashley gasped as he circled her clit, her hips lifting instinctively to meet his touch. “Carlos,” she breathed, her hands running over the muscled expanse of his back, feeling the power in his movements.

He worked her with skill, building her arousal gradually, drawing out the anticipation. When he finally slipped a finger inside her, then a second, Ashley moaned against his mouth, her body gripping him tightly, welcoming the intrusion.

“I want to try something new,” Carlos said, his voice intimate, his fingers still moving inside her, curling to hit the spot that never failed to make her gasp. “Something you haven’t given your husband.”

Ashley tensed slightly at the explicit reference to Jacob, at the reminder of her betrayal in this moment of pleasure. “What?” she asked, her voice breathier than intended.

Carlos’s free hand moved lower, past where his fingers were buried inside her, until he reached the tight ring no one had ever touched with sexual intent. He circled it lightly, not pushing in, just making his intentions clear.

“No,” Ashley said immediately, instinctively, her body tensing. “I’ve never-”

“I know,” Carlos interrupted, his fingers stilling but not withdrawing. “That’s the point. It would be something just for us. Something he’s never had from you.”

The suggestion should have repulsed her, should have triggered shame or outrage. Instead, to her confusion and dismay, it sent another pulse of arousal through her core. The taboo nature of the act, the explicit claiming it represented, resonated with something dark and primal within her.

Carlos watched her face closely, reading her reaction with uncanny accuracy. “We’ll start small,” he reassured her, his thumb continuing to brush lightly against her rear entrance. “Just my thumb while I fuck you. If you don’t like it, we stop. Simple.”

His directness, the matter-of-fact way he approached something so forbidden, somehow made it less frightening. “I don’t know,” Ashley said, genuinely unsure rather than rejecting outright.

“Trust me,” Carlos said, withdrawing his fingers from inside her, bringing them to her mouth. “Suck.”

Ashley parted her lips, taking his fingers into her mouth, tasting herself on them. The intimacy of the act, the submission it represented, heightened her arousal rather than diminishing it.

“Good girl,” Carlos praised, his approval sending another jolt of pleasure through her body. He withdrew his fingers from her mouth, trailing them down her body, leaving a wet path between her breasts, across her stomach, back to her entrance. “Now let me make you feel good.”

He positioned himself between her legs, the head of his cock pressing against her opening, stretching her gradually as he pushed forward. Ashley moaned at the familiar yet always overwhelming sensation of him filling her, her body accommodating his size easily now.

Once fully inside her, Carlos leaned down, capturing her mouth in a kiss that was surprisingly tender given the carnal nature of their connection. “Look at me,” he directed as he began to move, establishing a rhythm that was controlled rather than frantic. “I want to see your eyes when you come.”

Ashley complied, meeting his gaze as he drove into her. The eye contact added an unexpected layer of intimacy to the encounter, a connection beyond the physical that both thrilled and terrified her. Carlos maintained this visual link as his pace increased, his strokes hitting spots inside her that sent sparks flowing up her spine.

“Carlos,” she gasped, her hands gripping his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as pressure built at her core. “Oh god.”

“Not yet,” he commanded, somehow sensing her approaching climax. He slowed his movements, denying her the friction she craved. “Not until I say.”

Carlos maintained this torturous pace, bringing her to the edge, then easing back, until Ashley was practically begging, her body trembling with the need for release. Only then did he increase his speed, driving into her with renewed purpose.

“Come for me,” he finally permitted, his voice rough with his own approaching climax. “Let me feel you come on my cock.”

The permission, combined with a particularly deep thrust, pushed Ashley over the edge. Her orgasm crashed through her, her inner walls clamping down on his shaft, her cry of pleasure filling the sterile confines of his apartment. Carlos continued to move through her climax, prolonging it, drawing out every aftershock until she was gasping and oversensitive.

As she began to come down from the peak, Carlos withdrew, leaving her empty and disoriented. “Turn over,” he directed, his voice allowing no argument. “On your hands and knees.”

Still dazed from her powerful orgasm, Ashley complied, positioning herself as instructed. The vulnerability of the position, exposed and open to his gaze, sent a renewed pulse of arousal through her despite her recent release. She felt the couch shift as Carlos knelt behind her, his hands gripping her hips possessively.

“Stay still,” he commanded, one hand leaving her hip to position his cock at her entrance once more. “Don’t move until I tell you.”

He entered her in one smooth thrust, filling her completely. Ashley gasped at the intensity, her body stretching to accommodate him in this position. Carlos remained motionless once fully inside, his hands on her hips preventing her from moving back against him.

“Now,” he said, “fuck yourself on my cock. Show me how much you want this.”

The crude instruction, the shifting of agency, sent a shock of both shame and arousal through Ashley’s system. She began to move, pushing back against him, controlling the pace and depth of penetration while he remained stationary. The position granted her a semblance of control while simultaneously emphasizing her submission to his will, a paradox that heightened her pleasure in ways she couldn’t articulate.

“That’s it,” Carlos encouraged, his hands moving from her hips to her ass, spreading her cheeks for a better view of their connection and of her tight asshole. “Take what you need.”

Ashley found her rhythm, her body moving with increasing confidence as she chased a second orgasm. The sight of her fucking herself on his cock must have been intensely arousing for Carlos. His breathing grew heavier, occasional groans escaping his throat when she took him particularly deep.

“You love this, don’t you?” he asked, the question rhetorical rather than seeking confirmation. “Being free to take your pleasure, no restraint, no pretending to be the good wife.”

The explicit reminder of her marital status sent another confusing mixture of guilt and excitement through Ashley’s core. She increased her pace, fucking herself on him more forcefully, as if trying to drive away thoughts of Jacob with physical sensation.

“Answer me,” Carlos demanded, one hand coming down sharply on her ass, the unexpected sting drawing a startled cry from her lips.

“Yes,” Ashley admitted, the confession torn from somewhere deep and primitive within her. “I love it.”

“Tell me what you love,” Carlos pushed, his hand coming down on her other cheek. “Be specific.”

“I love fucking you,” Ashley gasped, her inhibitions dissolving under the dual assault of physical pleasure and forbidden transgression. “I love your cock inside me.”

“Better than his?” Carlos pressed, the question crossing a line they’d previously avoided in explicit terms. “Better than your husband’s?”

Ashley hesitated, some last vestige of loyalty making her pause despite the evident truth. Carlos’s hand connected with her ass again, harder this time, the pain blending into pleasure in a way she’d never experienced before.

“Answer me honestly,” he demanded, his voice carrying both threat and promise. “Or I stop right now.”

“Yes,” Ashley confessed, the admission breaking something loose inside her. “Better than his. Bigger. Deeper. You make me feel things he never has.”

The admission seemed to trigger something primal in Carlos. He gripped her hips again, taking control of their movement. “Stop moving,” he ordered, and when she complied, he reached between her legs, gathering her abundant wetness before bringing his fingers to her rear entrance once more.

He circled her tight ring with slick fingers. “My thumb. While I fuck you. Say yes or no, Ashley.”

The moment of decision crystallized around her, not just about this specific act, but about what it represented. Another boundary crossed, an intimacy shared with Carlos that she’d never given Jacob, another step away from the woman she’d been before Iron Grip Academy entered her life.

“Yes,” she whispered, the single syllable both surrender and liberation.

Carlos made a sound of approval, continuing to circle her entrance with gentle pressure, gradually increasing the intensity. “Relax,” he instructed as he began to push against the resistance. “Bear down slightly.”

Ashley followed his directions, focusing on relaxing the muscles, on accepting this new invasion. She felt his thumb breach the tight ring, just the tip at first, a strange sensation of fullness and intrusion that walked the line between discomfort and pleasure.

“Good girl,” Carlos praised as his thumb sank deeper, stopping at the first knuckle. “How does that feel?”

“Strange,” Ashley admitted, her body adjusting to the unfamiliar penetration. “But not bad.”

“It gets better,” Carlos promised, beginning to move his hips again, thrusting shallowly while his thumb remained in place. “Much better.”

The dual penetration created sensations Ashley had never experienced before, a fullness, a completeness that sent shivers of unexpected pleasure radiating through her body. As her initial discomfort faded, replaced by growing arousal, Carlos increased the depth and speed of his thrusts.

“Fuck,” he growled. “You’re so tight like this. So perfect.”

His praise, combined with the increasingly pleasurable sensations, pushed Ashley toward another climax. Each thrust seemed to hit every sensitive spot simultaneously, the added pressure of his thumb intensifying the friction inside her. Ashley cried out, her body trembling on the edge of release.

“Tell me you’re mine,” Carlos demanded, his rhythm becoming more forceful, more insistent. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” Ashley gasped, the words escaping without conscious thought, driven by pure physical need. “Please, Carlos, let me come.”

“Again,” he commanded, his fingers moving faster against her clit, his cock driving deeper with each thrust. “Say you belong to me.”

“I belong to you,” Ashley repeated. “Please!”

“Come for me,” Carlos finally permitted. “Come on my cock while I claim your ass.”

The crude permission was all Ashley needed. Her third orgasm crashed through her with even greater intensity than the previous ones, her inner walls convulsing around his shaft, her entire body shuddering with the force of her release. She cried out wordlessly, beyond language, beyond thought, existing only in the realm of pure physical pleasure.

Carlos continued to drive into her through her climax, his movements becoming more erratic as his own control slipped. His thumb pressed deeper into her ass, intensifying the sensations still rippling through her oversensitized body, triggering aftershocks that extended her pleasure beyond what she’d thought possible.

“Fuck, Ashley,” he groaned as he approached his peak. “I’m going to come inside you. Fill you completely.”

“Yes,” she urged, pushing back against him, taking him deeper. “Come inside me. I want to feel it.”

Now her permission triggered Carlos’s release. With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself completely inside her, his cock pulsing as he emptied himself in hot spurts that she could feel despite the overwhelming sensations already flooding her system. His thumb remained in place throughout his orgasm, maintaining the dual penetration until the last aftershock had faded.

Gradually, carefully, he withdrew both his thumb and his softening cock, leaving Ashley empty and trembling in the aftermath of the most intense sexual experience of her life. She collapsed onto the couch, her body feeling boneless with exhaustion and satisfaction, her mind slowly emerging from the haze of pure physical pleasure.

Carlos disappeared briefly, returning with a warm, damp cloth that he used to clean her. The gentle care after such raw passion created a dissonance that Ashley found herself responding to emotionally as well as physically. He helped her turn over, arranging her more comfortably on the couch before sitting beside her, one hand lazily tracing patterns on her sweat-dampened skin.

“How do you feel?” he asked, the question surprising in its apparent sincerity.

Ashley considered before answering, taking inventory of her body, the pleasant soreness between her legs, the unfamiliar tenderness in her rear, the small pulses of satisfaction still rippling through her core. “Incredible,” she admitted. “And a little shocked at myself.”

Carlos smiled, satisfaction evident in his expression. “You’re discovering who you really are,” he said, his hand continuing its idle exploration of her body. “The woman beneath the good-wife exterior.”

The observation, uncomfortably accurate, punctured the bubble of post-orgasmic contentment that had enveloped Ashley. Reality began to seep back in. Jacob was waiting at home, trusting and unaware.

“I should go,” she said, the familiar guilt returning like an unwelcome houseguest. She sat up, suddenly conscious of her nakedness, of the evidence of their activities still sticky between her thighs.

Carlos made no move to stop her, watching with that same enigmatic expression as she gathered her scattered clothing. “The bathroom’s through there,” he indicated with a casual gesture. “If you want to clean up more thoroughly.”

Ashley nodded gratefully, collecting her clothes before heading to the bathroom. Like the rest of the apartment, it was minimalist and impersonal, with high-end fixtures but no personal touches, no clutter of toiletries or decorative elements. She closed the door and caught sight of herself in the mirror, expecting to see some visible change, some outward manifestation of the lines she’d crossed.

But her reflection showed only the same Ashley, perhaps more tousled, eyes brighter than usual, lips slightly swollen from Carlos’s kisses, but fundamentally unchanged in appearance despite the seismic shifts occurring beneath her surface. She cleaned herself as thoroughly as possible without a proper shower, dressed, and attempted to restore her hair and makeup to a state that wouldn’t raise questions.

When she emerged, Carlos had pulled on his jeans but remained shirtless, his muscular torso on casual display as he poured himself another glass of wine. He offered the bottle toward her in silent question.

“No thanks,” Ashley declined. “I need to drive.”

“Back to him,” Carlos observed, no judgment in his tone, merely statement of fact.

Ashley nodded, gathering her purse, checking it for her keys and phone. “Yes.”

“Will you tell him where you’ve been?” The question was delivered with the same casual curiosity one might ask about the weather, as if the answer held no particular importance to him either way.

“No,” Ashley replied, knowing Carlos already understood this aspect of their arrangement.

“Good,” he said, surprising her. “Some truths serve no purpose except inflicting pain.”

The statement, unexpectedly philosophical from a man she’d categorized as primarily physical in his approach to life, gave Ashley pause. “Is that how you justify this?” she asked, genuinely curious. “By thinking it’s better he doesn’t know?”

Carlos considered her question seriously, taking a thoughtful sip of wine before responding. “I don’t need to justify anything,” he said finally. “I’m not the one married. But if you’re asking how I sleep at night knowing I’m fucking another man’s wife…” He shrugged. “I believe in honoring agreements I’ve made. I’ve made none with your husband.”

The cold logic of his position, while morally questionable, carried a certain consistency that Ashley found herself unable to argue against, particularly given her own far more hypocritical stance.

“I need to go,” she repeated, unable to formulate a response that didn’t expose the fragility of her own ethical framework.

Carlos crossed to her. He cupped her face with one hand, his touch somehow both possessive and gentle.

“Next time,” he said, the assumption of repetition evident in his tone, “we can try more. If you’re interested.”

“I don’t know if there should be a next time,” she said, the token resistance feeling hollow even to her own ears.

Carlos smiled, seeing through her with clarity. “Text me when you’re ready to admit what you really want,” he said, leaning in to place a surprisingly tender kiss on her forehead. “I’ll be here.”