A diversion

He lunged at Sara the moment she stepped through the door, his body a coiled spring of **** need. "I missed you so fucking much," he growled, his hands already tearing at her blouse, sending buttons skittering across the hardwood floor. He spun her around, bending her over the back of the couch, his hard cock pressing insistently against the soft fabric of her travel skirt. "I've been going crazy without these," he rasped, his hands roughly mauling her heavy DD breasts, kneading them like dough. "Couldn't stop thinking about this perfect fucking body."

Sara gasped, a thrill shooting through her at his raw aggression. This was the passion she craved, the possessiveness that proved she was his one and only. "God, yes, Dejan," she moaned, pushing back against him, her body responding instantly. "Show me how much you missed your tits."

He yanked her skirt up and her panties down, not bothering with foreplay. He drove into her with a single, powerful thrust that stole her breath. The couch groaned under their combined weight as he pounded into her, his grip on her breasts almost painful, his grunts of effort mixing with her cries of pleasure. Hidden in the downstairs toilet, Clara could hear every rhythmic slap of skin, every guttural word of praise Dejan lavished on Sara's body. She pressed a hand to her mouth, her heart aching with a toxic cocktail of jealousy and a deep, programmed devotion. After what felt like an eternity, she heard them move to the bedroom. Seizing her chance, she slipped out the back door, melting into the twilight.

Dejan fucked Sara with a ferocity born of panic and relief, channeling the adrenaline of his near-discovery into a performance of a lifetime. He brought her to a screaming orgasm, his own release a moment of pure, triumphant possession. As they lay tangled in the sheets, sated and breathless, his phone buzzed silently on the nightstand. He glanced at it while Sara was in the bathroom. The message was short and stark: "I'm out." A wave of relief washed over him, followed by the intoxicating chill of his own audacity. He had pulled it off. He had both of them.