No distractions

Ruby glances toward the front door, then picks up her phone from the side table and checks the screen. Whatever she sees there makes her shoulders ease a fraction. She sets the phone face down, draws a slow breath, and closes the small distance between you on the sofa.

The kiss is sudden and needy. Her mouth finds yours with none of the careful distance she keeps at the office. Soft lips, a quiet sound in her throat, the athletic body leaning in until the warmth of her presses against your side. The scent of her perfume rises strong and close, something clean and warm that settles straight into your head.

She breaks the kiss only enough to speak, her forehead still near yours, voice low and rough around the edges.

“My husband has not reached for me in almost as long. Everything is polite. Everything is scheduled. We talk about the bills and the weekend plans and then we sleep on opposite sides of the mattress. I keep waiting for him to notice I am still here. He does not. Some nights I lie awake and hate how quiet the house is.”

While she talks her hand settles on your thigh. Fingers begin tracing slow, idle lines along the fabric, higher with each pass, never quite reaching the obvious hard outline of your cock but close enough that the heat of her palm sinks through. The perfume keeps wrapping around you, thicker now that she is this near. She kisses you again between sentences, shorter, hungrier, then continues the quiet vent about the polite distance at home, the way she has started feeling invisible in her own marriage, all while those tracing fingers keep moving on your thigh and the thick ache in your trousers only grows harder under the attention.