My husband's mistress is a man 2

My husband's mistress is a man 2


The office was quiet except for the rhythmic ticking of a minimalist gold clock on the far wall.

June Gray sat at her sleek glass desk, legs crossed, a manicured finger slowly circling the rim of her coffee cup. Her silk blouse was pristine, her pencil skirt hugging her frame just right..always the vision of composure, elegance, and silent menace. The city skyline glinted behind her through floor-to-ceiling windows, casting diamond-like patterns across the floor.

Her secretary tapped lightly at the door before stepping in. “Ma’am,” he said with a subtle nod. “I have what you requested.”

“Finally,” June murmured, extending a hand without looking up.

A manila folder was placed delicately into her palm.

She opened it with slow, deliberate grace. Inside were photos, screenshots, transcripts…names and faces confirming what she already suspected. There was Elias, her beloved husband. And there was Avery, his favorite waiter-turned-mistake.

A slow smile spread across her lips, a smile that had made grown men flinch.

She dropped the folder onto the table as though it were yesterday’s news.

“Predictable,” she said under her breath, then raised her eyes to her assistant, Zane, who was still standing obediently at the door. “Come here…”

Zane’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “Yes, mistress,” he replied, voice smooth as velvet.

He turned and locked the door with a soft click, the sound final and familiar. Then, without hesitation, he lowered himself to the floor and began to crawl…slow, graceful, reverent.

His designer slacks brushed the floor as he moved toward her desk like a servant approaching a throne.

June leaned back in her chair, her legs still crossed, one brow arched. "You've been such a good boy lately," she said, voice low and rich. "Tell me, do you think you deserve a reward?"

"If it pleases you," Zane whispered, reaching her feet. He pressed a kiss to her stiletto, then another to her ankle. "It would be an honor to serve you."

June smiled, brushing her hand through his perfectly tousled hair. Zane was a living sculpture..flawless skin, those long lashes, that jaw. Pretty boy didn’t even begin to cover it.

“God, look at you,” she murmured. “So polished at your desk... and on your knees, like you were made to be.”

He kissed her calf, nuzzling closer. “Only for you, mistress.”

“That little whimper you make,” she cooed. “I swear it’s better than morning espresso.”

Zane let out the softest sound in response, and June’s grin widened.

“What would you like to do to me now?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

Zane’s voice trembled, arousal and devotion coiled tight in his tone. “I’d be honored to taste you, mistress.”

June didn’t speak. She just slid her chair back a few inches and parted her legs, the slit of her skirt shifting open just enough to show silk stockings and the delicate lace of her black thigh-highs.

Zane moaned softly..almost a sigh..and pressed his face to the inside of her thigh, kissing the skin like it was sacred. He worshipped her slowly, reverently, his mouth trailing from knee to hemline.

June ran her fingers through his hair again and tilted her head back. “Slow,” she commanded. “Make it last. Make me forget who I am.”

Zane obeyed.

His hands slid up her calves, brushing against her stockings as his mouth continued its pilgrimage. When he reached her inner thigh, he paused, nose brushing lace.

“God, you smell like power,” he whispered.

June let out a low, sultry laugh. “Then consume me.”

He did.

His tongue teased, coaxed, adored. He worshipped with lips and breath and just enough pressure to keep her aching for more. June gripped the edge of her chair, nails biting into the leather as her head lolled back in pleasure.

Zane always knew what she liked.

He knew when to tease, when to take, when to stay soft and when to press harder. She gasped when his fingers slipped under the lace, spreading her soft, flushed,dripping pussy open for his tongue. The sound that left her throat was sharp, guttural, not at all the composed laugh of a senator’s wife.

But here, with Zane, she didn’t have to be anything but woman and want.

“God, you’re good,” she whispered, biting her lip. “Better than him. Always have been.”

Zane moaned against her, the vibrations making her shudder.

She rocked her hips gently, guiding him. He stayed firm, tongue and mouth relentless, drinking in her scent, her taste, the power that pulsed from her like perfume.

He didn’t stop when she gasped.

Didn’t slow when she gripped his hair and rolled her hips harder into his face.

He groaned and sucked harder, hungrier, until she cried out and came with a sharp breathless curse, thighs trembling around his head.

When she sagged back in her chair, exhaling like she'd just finished a bottle of wine, he licked her clean..gentle, reverent, precise.

Finally, June opened her eyes, chest rising and falling with slow satisfaction. “You’ve earned your raise.”

Zane looked up, flushed and glowing. “I’d take it in kisses if you’d allow it.”

June laughed..a rich, throaty sound..and reached down to pull him up by the tie.

“You’re insatiable,” she purred.

“For you? Always.”

They kissed..slow, deep, like honey melting on the tongue.

When they pulled apart, June brushed his cheek.

“File that folder away. I want Elias to think I haven’t seen it yet.”

Zane nodded, brushing his lips against her hand. “As you wish.”

“Good boy,” she whispered.

He smirked, fixing her skirt with care before walking to the file cabinet..shirt untucked, cheeks flushed, knees red from the floor.

June turned back to the window.

Let Elias play games. She was playing her own.

And she wasn’t planning to lose.

The soft purr of the luxury sedan filled the silence as Zane pulled up to the curb outside the Gray estate. It was almost 9 p.m. The neighborhood was bathed in gold lamplight and trimmed hedges. June sat quietly in the passenger seat, one heel dangling off her foot, the hem of her skirt still just slightly askew from their earlier office entanglement.

Zane killed the engine.

June didn’t move.Neither did he.

The air between them cracked like static.

Zane turned his head slowly to look at her, his jaw tight, lips parted slightly like he was trying to speak but couldn’t decide if words were necessary.

June glanced at the house, then at the tinted windows surrounding them. Her voice was low, deliberate.

“Unbuckle.”

Zane obeyed. Not even a blink of hesitation.

June shifted in her seat to face him fully, one hand sliding across his chest as she leaned in. “We don’t have time to be slow.”

“We never are,” he said, voice thick.

She climbed into his lap, hiking her skirt up over her hips, straddling him with practiced ease. The center console groaned under the shift of weight, but neither of them cared. Her mouth found his neck…hot, demanding..and Zane moaned low, hands flying to her thighs, gripping them tight.

“Boss...”

“Shut up,” she whispered into his skin. “I don’t need talking. I need this.”

Her hand slid down, unfastening his pants. Zane gasped, his head dropping back against the headrest as she freed him from his slacks. He was already hard, already leaking,cute, thick and pink fat cock, and she smirked at the sight.

“I swear, you get off on the danger,” she murmured.

“Only when you’re the danger,” he choked out, breath hitching as her fingers wrapped around him.

June leaned in and kissed him..open-mouthed, hungry, their teeth clicking slightly from the force. He kissed her back like a drowning man surfacing, like her mouth was oxygen.

She reached down, dragged her lace panties to the side, and sank onto his Cock with a gasp.

Zane’s hands flew to her waist.

“Fk,” he whispered. “You're so..”

“Don’t talk.”

She rolled her hips once, twice, then set a rhythm that made the entire car shudder with each movement. It was rough. It was desperate. It was filthy.

Zane held her tight, head buried against her chest as he tried to keep his composure…but June didn’t want composure. She wanted wreckage.

“Dont just sit there…Touch me,” she ordered.

His hand slid between them instantly, fingers finding the slick heat where their bodies met.

She gasped. Her hands went to the window for leverage, palms flat against the glass, her breath fogging it up in waves.

“Faster,” she hissed.

Zane obeyed her.

The slap of skin against skin was muffled by the closed car, but the air was thick with heat and panting and moaning. It was chaos and precision all at once..his fingers, her rhythm, the grind of their bodies lost in the night.

“Don’t you dare cum first,” she warned, her voice cracking.

“I’m trying…”

“Try harder.”

She tightened around him, hard, and Zane cried out.

June was close. She bit her lip, grabbed his shoulders, and rode him harder..sharp, deliberate, every thrust stealing the breath from her lungs.

“Now,” she breathed. “I’m Cumming,Cum with me.”

Zane moaned against her throat. “Yes, mistress..”

They came together…her back arching, nails dragging down his chest, his arms wrapped around her like she was the only thing keeping him alive.

She trembled in his lap, panting, lips parted.

Slowly, she rested her forehead against his. They stayed like that for a moment, flushed and wrecked and silent.

She finally smiled. “You’re addictive.”

“You’re destructive,” he whispered, voice still raw.

She climbed off him with feline grace, fixing her skirt like nothing happened.

He buttoned himself up, breath shaky.

June opened the door. The cool night air rushed in.

Before stepping out, she leaned back in and kissed him once…soft, deep, final.

“Goodnight, Zane.”

“Goodnight, mistress.”

She walked up the driveway, heels clicking like war drums.

And Zane sat there in the driver's seat, dazed, dazed and desperate for her all over again.