Chapter 40 The Relapse
Marcus lasted less than twenty-four hours after his admission. The moment he whispered to Lucy that he could not stay away, the last fragile barrier inside him collapsed. The withdrawal had been a pathetic, short-lived illusion. By the next morning, the hunger returned with ferocious intensity, as if punishing him for even attempting to resist.
Elena left for a morning yoga class, kissing him goodbye with a hopeful smile and a reminder about her upcoming medication schedule. The second the door closed behind her, Marcus felt the shift. His body responded instantly, blood rushing hot and urgent. He tried to fight it for ten minutes, pacing the living room, telling himself he could be stronger today. But the need was already winning.
He found Lucy in the laundry room folding clothes. She turned at the sound of his footsteps, and the look in his eyes told her everything. No words were necessary.
Marcus crossed the small space in two strides and pulled her against him. The kiss was urgent, almost violent in its need. He lifted her onto the washing machine, shoved her shorts aside, and thrust into her without preamble. Lucy gasped, gripping his shoulders as he drove deep and hard, the machine’s edge digging into her thighs.
This was not gentle. This was pure, unrestrained relapse. He fucked her with fast, powerful strokes, the sound of their bodies meeting echoing off the walls. Lucy wrapped her legs around him, meeting every thrust, her breath hot against his neck.
“You couldn’t even make it one full day,” she panted, a mix of triumph and frustration in her voice. “One day of trying to be good, and you’re already back inside me.”
Marcus groaned and fucked her harder, the truth only fueling the fire. He came quickly, flooding her while the machine vibrated beneath them. But he didn’t stop. He stayed hard, kept moving, and took her again right there, chasing a second release before the first had even finished.
The relapse did not end with the laundry room. It consumed the entire day.
When Elena texted that she was stopping for groceries and would be home later, Marcus used every minute. He took Lucy in the kitchen, bent over the counter where Elena prepared breakfast every morning. He took her again in his home office, her moans muffled against his shoulder while he sat in the same chair he used for work calls. By early afternoon, he had her in the guest bathroom, her legs wrapped around his waist as he drove into her against the sink.
Each time was faster, more desperate. The guilt that had once slowed him down now seemed to sharpen the pleasure instead. He fucked her three times before lunch and twice more before Elena’s expected return. Lucy took everything he gave, her body marked with his fingerprints, her voice hoarse from trying to stay quiet.
“You’re going to get us caught,” she warned during a brief pause, even as she stroked him back to hardness.
Marcus didn’t care. The addiction had taken full control. He needed her constantly now, multiple times a day, as if the more he had, the more he required.
By late afternoon, the house carried the faint scent of sex no amount of airing out could fully erase. Marcus had lost count of how many times he had taken Lucy. His body ached, yet the hunger refused to fade. Elena remained completely oblivious, returning home with bags of groceries and a tired but content smile.
She chatted about her day while putting things away, completely unaware that her husband had spent the day buried inside her daughter in nearly every room of their home. Marcus helped her with the bags, forcing himself to act normal, but his mind kept flashing back to Lucy bent over the kitchen island just hours earlier.
The contrast was maddening. Elena moved around the kitchen with gentle domestic grace, while Lucy’s taste still lingered on his tongue. The double life had become dangerously routine, and the ease of it terrified him as much as it thrilled him.
That evening, after dinner, Elena curled up beside Marcus on the couch. She rested her head on his shoulder and sighed contentedly at first. But after a few minutes of comfortable silence, she lifted her head and studied his face.
“Everything okay between us?” she asked softly, her voice carrying a note of genuine concern. “You’ve been… different lately. More distant in some moments, but then so attentive in others. It feels like you’re somewhere else even when you’re right next to me. Is there something you’re not telling me?”
Marcus’s heart slammed against his ribs. He forced a reassuring smile and pulled her closer, kissing her temple. “I’m just tired from work, babe. Nothing to worry about.”
Elena nodded slowly, but the doubt in her eyes lingered. She rested her head back on his shoulder, yet the question hung in the air between them like smoke.
Marcus held her tightly, but his gaze drifted toward the hallway where Lucy’s door stood closed. The relapse had been total and relentless. He had taken her multiple times throughout the day while Elena remained blissfully unaware.
But now Elena was asking the question he feared most. She was beginning to sense that something fundamental had shifted in their marriage.
The double life was no longer sustainable, yet Marcus could not bring himself to end it.