His new wife

Lana is in the kitchen.

Spaghetti top. Tight panties. Nothing else. The top is thin enough that her nipples show. The panties cut high and do nothing to hide the shape of her. She is unpacking a box like she has always stood at that counter.

Adam stops in the doorway.

He gets hard immediately. The night comes back with it: her on their bed, the kiss, the chair, her voice telling him to fuck Mia harder, the squirt on the sheet, the sound of her begging before he put her in the wife’s seat. He remembers pounding her breathless the first time, before any of this had a calendar. The body in his kitchen is the same body.

He steps inside.

Lana looks up and smiles like the word is already allowed.

“Husband.”

Adam shuts the door.

“Remember the rules,” he says.

She snaps back, still smiling, instant.

“I remember. Pretend wife for six months. I don’t steal you. I don’t take her place. When she comes back, I go.”

She pours coffee. She puts the cup in front of his chair. She sits opposite him in the panties and the thin top and does not cover herself.

They sit.

The airport is still on him. Mia’s kiss. Remy’s ass under Mia’s hand. Lana’s knee is visible under the table, and the memory of being inside her sits in his lap, obvious.

Lana wraps both hands around her own cup.

“Mia explained her rules,” she says. “I have them. I want yours. If you have specific ones. Requests. Things she didn’t say. Things you want from the wife who lives here.”

Adam looks at her.

The top. The panties. The smile. The coffee she made in Mia’s kitchen.

He starts to explain.