Chapter 7 Shame
Claire
His thrusts were brutal, relentless, and I completely fell apart. "I… I can’t take any more," I gasped, pleading. "I’m close," he growled, "fuck, cum for me." That pushed me over the edge. I came hard, my body convulsing as waves of release flooded out of me, shaking me harder than I’d ever experienced.
I felt him lose control too, his warmth spilling deep inside me as he came undone with a groan.
Exhausted, I collapsed onto the bed, chest heaving, trying to catch my breath in ragged gasps. Then I heard his voice, laced with disbelief: "I came?"
But I barely registered it. Shame was already crashing over me like a tide. I sat up slowly, glancing down at the mess between my legs—his release mixed with mine, slowly leaking out.
"I need to wash," I muttered, my eyes empty and dull.
He shot up from the bed like he’d been burned, dragging a trembling hand through his hair. His face had gone ashen, eyes wide with something that looked a lot like disbelief. “Fuck,” he hissed under his breath, and I knew, God, I knew he hated what we’d done every bit as much as I did.
He stumbled back, chest heaving, and pointed vaguely toward a door. “Bathroom’s… over there,” he muttered, then turned and staggered out of the room like he couldn’t get away fast enough.
I forced myself off the mattress, legs shaking, and peeled off the ruined shirt and bra as I walked. The second I stepped under the shower and twisted the knob, the tears came just as hard as the water. Hot, ugly sobs tore out of me.
I was disgusting.
I was no better than my husband.
I had cheated. With a man almost half my age. I was pathetic, weak, vile.
Still crying, I dropped to my knees in the spray and shoved my fingers inside myself, scrubbing frantically, trying to dig him out of me. My walls were swollen and tender, every touch a fresh stab of pain and shame. I knew I couldn’t get pregnant, I’d had my tubes tied years ago, but that didn’t stop the self-loathing from swallowing me whole.
When there was nothing left to cry, I shut off the water, found a towel, and wrapped it around myself like a shroud. Back in the bedroom, a neat stack of clean clothes waited on the bed, his clothes. Beside them, a note.
“Your things are soaked in cum. Wear these or leave smelling like a whore. When you’re done, let yourself out.”
I crumpled the paper and threw it across the room, but he was right. I couldn’t walk out reeking of sex. So I pulled on the oversized turtleneck and sweatpants, drowning in them, drowning in everything.
The living room was empty. My discarded clothes lay in a pathetic heap on the floor; I didn’t even glance at them. I grabbed my bag and headed straight for the door.
Once I opened the door and stepped out of the house, I breathed a shaky sigh of relief. What happened here stays here, I told myself. I kept walking, legs carrying me straight to the gate. It swung open as soon as I got there and when I stepped through, it shut behind me closing everything out.
Or so I thought.
Liam
I watched her on the monitor as she walked out, shoulders trembling with shame. But I wasn’t the same guy I’d been an hour ago. My eyes were wide, heart pounding, and I still couldn’t believe what had just happened to me.
In my entire life, I had never once ejaculated. Not with anyone. I’d slept with more women than I could count, some of them stunning, tried every kind of porn, jerked off until my hand cramped, nothing. Doctors confirmed it: lifelong anejaculation. Therapy, specialists, every treatment under the sun, still nothing.
And then today, for the first time ever, it happened, inside her. The pressure built so hard and fast I didn’t even realize what was coming until my hips jerked and I released, deep, unstoppable, shocking. After all these years, it finally happened, and not with some perfect fantasy girl, but with a broken, married older woman who hates herself right now.
I watched the monitor as she hurried to her car and drove away. A low, almost bitter laugh escaped me. I pressed my palms to my face, shook my head, and let the laugh fade into a slow breath.
This just got interesting, Mrs. Claire.
You’ve woken up something I didn’t know was there.
And now that it’s awake… for you.
We’re nowhere near done.
Claire
I slipped through the front door that night clutching my bag like a shield. Before I could even kick off my shoes, Riette came bounding down the stairs.
“Mom, where were you? Your phone’s been off for hours,” he said, voice sharp with worry. Then he stopped halfway down, eyes narrowing as he took me in. I swallowed hard and painted on a smile that felt like glass.
“Sorry, sweetheart. Battery died,” I lied.
He came closer, studying the oversized turtleneck and sweatpants that obviously weren’t mine. “What are you wearing?” he asked, then softer, “Mom… did something bad happen?”
His hand settled on my shoulder, gentle and warm, and I nearly shattered right there. My boy, my youngest, only fifteen, the last one still at home while his siblings were away at college. He’d been alone with just me and Ian for months. Of course he’d been scared.
I shook my head too fast. “No, baby. I was walking and a car sped through a puddle, drenched me head to toe. Someone lent me these so I wouldn’t drip all the way home.”
He exhaled, tension easing from his shoulders, and I pulled him into a hug before he could look too closely at my face. He folded into me like he always does, arms tight around me, trusting me completely.
I held him close and breathed him in, my sweet boy who still smelled faintly of the steak he’d had for dinner.
And inside, I died a little more.
Because I was hugging my son while still feeling numb from what I had done.
I was the worst kind of mother.
I was the worst kind of person.
Luppy, the nanny hurried over the moment I let go of Riette and reached for my bag. “Welcome home, ma’am,” she said softly.
“Thank you,” I answered, forcing a quick smile. I turned to my son. “I’m going up to change now, okay?” I needed these clothes off my body immediately.
Riette nodded with a small smile. I patted his cheek and headed straight up the stairs to my room.
Luppy followed and set my bag on the bed. “Should I bring your dinner here, ma’am, or will you wait for sir?”
I shook my head. “I already ate on the way.”
She lifted an eyebrow, she knew that wasn’t like me, but only said, “Okay, ma’am. I’ll leave you then,” and walked out.
The door closed. I collapsed onto the bed, curled into a tight ball, and the tears poured out. Then I remembered the clothes. I shot up, yanked off the turtleneck, and flung it across the room. Stood up, shoved the pants down, tears blurring everything.
But suddenly I caught my reflection in the mirror and froze.
Slowly I walked closer. My neck was covered in red marks, clear fingerprints wrapped around it. I turned. My butt was the same, bright, unmistakable prints where he had spanked me.
My eyes went wide.
Ian must never see this.
Just then a knock jerked me upright.
“Ma’am, if you’re done, sir called. He said he can’t reach you,” Luppy said through the door.
“Okay,” I answered, voice trembling as I reached into my bag and pulled out my phone.
I had switched it off the moment I got to Liam's front gate, I didn’t want any disturbance from anyone. It was stupid of me; I really thought it would be quick. Now panic gripped me. Don’t tell me Ian is already on his way.
The second the phone came on, I called Ian.
“Honey, why didn’t you pick your call?” he asked the instant he answered.
“It was dead,” I lied again. His side went silent for a moment, then he sighed.
“Ah, I was worried sick,” he said.
Hearing that made me bite my lip hard to stop the tears. This all happened because of him. I had slept with another man because of him.
“Yeah, I’m sorry,” I forced out.
“I’m calling to tell you I’m caught up with work,” he continued. “I don’t think I’ll be able to come home today.”
I almost laughed. Who does he think he’s fooling? I know damn well it’s because of his mistress, but still I swallowed it down and answered like always.
“It’s okay,” I said, trying to sound calm.
“I love you,” he said.
Liar. I almost screamed it, but I swallowed that too.
“I love you too.”
I ended the call. Fresh tears spilled down my face and I pressed my hand over my lips to keep any sound from escaping.
But on the bright side, thank God he isn’t coming home, or else he would have seen my body marked by another man.