Chapter 13: Weekend Promises

Elena was still sprawled on the couch, completely naked, when she heard the front door open.

Her heart stopped.

Edward.

She didn't have time to grab anything. The blanket was too far. Her clothes were scattered across the living room floor. In a panic, she simply closed her eyes and went completely still, pretending to be asleep.

The couch beneath her was still damp — evidence of how hard she had come just minutes earlier. Her thighs were sticky, her pussy still swollen and sensitive. She could feel the cool air against her bare skin and prayed Edward wouldn't notice how obviously aroused she looked.

The footsteps came closer.

Edward stepped into the living room and stopped. For a long moment, there was only silence. Elena could feel his eyes on her — roaming over her naked body, her full breasts, the curve of her ass, the glistening wetness between her legs.

He had come home early today. For once, he wasn't exhausted from back-to-back surgeries. He had actually planned to surprise her, maybe take her out for dinner, maybe finally spend some real time together like they used to. But instead, he found her like this — naked, flushed, clearly having just finished pleasuring herself.

A complicated wave of emotions hit him at once.

Guilt. Desire. Sadness. And underneath it all, a raw, aching hunger.

She's so beautiful, he thought, his cock already hardening in his trousers. Even like this… especially like this.

He walked closer, his footsteps soft on the carpet. Elena kept her breathing slow and even, praying he would just leave her alone. But then she felt his presence right beside the couch. He was looking down at her — really looking.

Edward reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair from her face. His fingers lingered for a second against her cheek.

"Sorry, Elena…" he whispered, voice thick with regret. "I will make sure to give my whole weekend to you. I promise."

Elena's heart clenched.

Weekend…

The word echoed in her mind. This Saturday night — the same night she had promised to have dinner with Caleb. The same night she was supposed to go out with another man while her husband finally wanted to spend time with her.

She didn't know what to do.

Part of her wanted to open her eyes right then and tell Edward everything — about how lonely she had been, about how she had started doing things she never thought she was capable of, about the guilt and the thrill that now lived inside her like a second heartbeat.

But she couldn't.

So she kept pretending. She let her body relax completely and actually drifted off, the exhaustion from her intense orgasm finally catching up with her.

Edward watched her for a few more seconds, his cock straining painfully against his zipper. He wanted her so badly. He wanted to wake her up gently, spread her legs, and bury himself inside her the way he used to when they were younger and less exhausted by life.

But she was already asleep.

With a quiet sigh, he bent down and carefully lifted her into his arms. She was warm and soft against his chest. He carried her to their bedroom, laid her down gently, and pulled the covers over her naked body.

"I'm sorry," he whispered again, kissing her forehead.

Then he left the room.

Edward wasn't tired tonight. For once, his body wasn't screaming for sleep after a brutal shift. He had energy. He had time. And now he had nowhere to put either of them.

He changed his clothes, grabbed his keys, and left the house again.

The bar was loud and dimly lit, exactly what he needed. He ordered a whiskey and sat at the counter, trying to quiet the storm in his head. The guilt was already eating at him — not for leaving, but for the way he had looked at Elena while she slept. For how hard he had gotten just from seeing her naked and used.

He was on his third drink when a girl slid onto the stool beside him.

She was young — probably early twenties — with long dark hair, full lips, and the kind of confident smile that came from knowing exactly how attractive she was. A university student, judging by the textbook peeking out of her bag.

"Hey," she said, tilting her head. "You look like you could use some company."

Edward glanced at her, then at the drink in his hand. He should have said no. He should have gone home.

Instead, he shrugged. "Sure. Why not?"

She smiled wider and signaled the bartender. "Whatever he's having for me too."

They drank. They talked — or at least she talked while he listened. She was studying biology, of all things. She laughed easily, touched his arm when she spoke, and leaned in close enough that he could smell her perfume.

After the fourth round, she stood up and held out her hand.

"Dance with me?"

Edward was too drunk to refuse. Too hard from earlier.

He let her pull him onto the small dance floor. The music was slow and sensual. She pressed her body against his immediately, arms looping around his neck, hips swaying in a way that left nothing to the imagination.

She was touchy — hands sliding down his back, pressing against his chest, occasionally brushing lower. Edward's head spun. Between the alcohol and the memory of Elena's naked body on the couch, his self-control was hanging by a thread.

One song bled into another.

She looked up at him through her lashes. "You're really handsome, you know that?"

Before he could answer, she rose onto her toes and kissed him.

Edward didn't pull away.

The kiss was hungry, desperate. Her tongue slid against his, and suddenly they were moving — off the dance floor, out of the bar, into the cool night air. They barely made it to the nearest motel before they were tearing at each other's clothes.

The room was cheap and dimly lit, but neither of them cared.

The moment the door closed, she pushed him onto the bed and climbed on top of him. She was aggressive — riding him hard, hips rolling with a confidence that surprised even Edward. Her young body moved with purpose, taking what she wanted, moaning loudly every time he hit deep inside her.

Edward gripped her hips and let her use him. For the first time in months, he wasn't thinking about work or exhaustion or guilt. He was just feeling — the tight heat of her pussy, the way her tits bounced with every thrust, the filthy things she whispered in his ear.

She came first, clenching around him with a sharp cry. Edward followed seconds later, emptying himself deep inside her with a groan that came from somewhere raw and desperate.

They collapsed together, breathing hard.

The girl curled against his chest with a satisfied smile. "That was fun," she murmured sleepily.

Edward didn't answer. He was already drifting off, the alcohol and the orgasm pulling him under.

When he woke up the next morning, the bed beside him was empty.

Sunlight streamed through the cheap motel curtains. His head pounded. For a few seconds, he didn't remember where he was.

Then it all came flooding back.

The bar. The girl. The sex.

Edward sat up slowly, a sick feeling settling in his stomach.

What the fuck did I do?

He had cheated on Elena.

The guilt hit him like a physical blow. He had come home early for her — to finally be the husband she deserved — and instead he had ended up fucking some random university student in a cheap motel.

He ran a hand over his face, trying to steady his breathing.

Then he noticed his phone on the nightstand.

There was a new contact saved.

Ana.

Edward stared at the name, his blood running cold.

He didn't remember saving it. He didn't even remember exchanging numbers. But there it was — a new entry with a local number and the name "ana" typed in.

His hands started to shake.

What the hell had he done?

End of Chapter 13

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