Sandra adjusted the silk blouse she had borrowed from Fergus’s closet, a deep emerald color that brought out the fire in her eyes. It clung to her like confidence, layered over the scars of a woman reborn. Her hair was tied into a sleek knot, her lips a shade bolder than usual. It wasn’t vanity. It was armor. “Are you ready?” Fergus asked, standing in the doorway. He looked freshly pressed, but his eyes betrayed concern. “You don’t have to do this today.” “Yes, I do,” she said firmly, gripping the edge of the vanity. “If I don’t, Steph wins. Again.” They had spent the night drafting her statement, something that wasn’t just a defense but a declaration. Sandra didn’t want to be seen as the pitiful wife anymore. She wasn’t a victim. She was a survivor with a voice, and today, she would use it. As they drove back into the city, the outside world felt sharper, louder. Fergus reached for her hand as he consoled and gave it a gentle squeeze. She appreciated it more than she could say. Hi
Morning sunlight spilled across the tiled floor, warming the linen fabric tangled around Sandra’s body. Her eyes fluttered open to find Fergus already awake, dressed in loose cotton pants and a linen shirt, barefoot as he sipped coffee on the balcony. The image of him, backlit by the soft morning glow and framed by ivy-covered arches, felt like something out of a dream—or a life she had never dared to imagine. She sat up slowly, the silk robe clinging to her bare skin. Her body still hummed with the memory of the night before,how safe he made her feel, how gently he had touched her, as if she were something to be handled with reverence, not conquered. Fergus turned just in time to catch her watching him. “My fanstasy,” he said with that boyish smile that always made her stomach flutter. “I was going to let you sleep. You needed it.” “I haven’t slept that well in… years,” she admitted, stepping out to join him. He handed her a steaming tons of espresso, his fingers brushing hers. “I
The next few days felt like a whirlwind for Sandra. Her mind was constantly running a thousand miles a minute, caught between the fresh beginnings she’d started with Fergus and the looming shadow of her past that refused to let her go. The phone calls, the headlines, the constant reminders of the man she had once called her husband—they were relentless, like waves crashing against a fragile shoreline. Fergus, ever the steady presence, did his best to shield her from it all. He kept her out of the public eye, planning quiet, private outings that helped to restore a sense of normalcy. Yet, no matter how much he tried, the pressure was mounting. Steph’s grieve against her wasn’t just public, it was personal, and it was getting uglier by the day. Sandra had hoped, foolishly, that time away from the city would allow her to heal. But as the days wore on, the clumsy media around her didn’t dissipate. It only seemed to grow louder. Articles were printed accusing her of abandoning her marriag
Later that night, alone in her apartment, Sandra reread the last text Fergus had sent: Fergus: “Dinner tonight remember? Can't wait to see your beautiful face, my fantasy” She smiled and typed back—“ 7p.m. I’ll be there.” At dinner, the restaurant was sleek and quiet—clearly chosen for its privacy. Fergus stood as she entered, his dark suit crisp, his eyes softening when they met hers. “You came,” he said. “I said I’d think about it.” “And you thought wisely,” he smiled as he teased. They shared stories, laughter flowing more easily than Sandra expected. She noticed how Fergus listened, not just with his ears, but with his whole presence. When he talked about his family’s business and the pressure to always be perfect, she saw the cracks behind his charm. “I’ve been told I’m too guarded,” he said, whirling his glass of wine. “How do you mean?” Sandra asked. “That I don’t let people in my life.” He replied her. “I get,” Sandra replied. “I used to think being alone would keep
Thin rays of light entered through the hotel curtains and lit up the bedsheets. Sandra slowly opened her eyes and felt the warmth beside her. The body next to her was a solid reminder that the night before was very much real. The faint scent of Fergus clung on her skin and, for a slight moment, she allowed herself to feel the sensation of peace that had stayed hidden from her for way too long. Turning to her side, she looked at the man still sleeping next to her. He looked relaxed and the intensity usually present in his sharp hazel eyes was massively softened. Fergus's arm was wrapped over Sandra’s waist which made her feel a tinge of fear and excitement all at once. She found herself thinking, is this the beginning of something beautiful? The conflicting emotions left her baffled, but was it okay to trust someone again? This part of the world was understandable to her. The warm embrace of a man so unlike her ex husband. Fergus was everything she had ever needed. He was everything k
Sandra kissed his neck, too, her tongue licking his ear, her eyes shut as she began feeling sensations she had never felt before.Fergus's left hand moved to Sandra's breast and squeezed it. She moaned a little. His right hand moved from her waist to her buttocks, squeezing it as well. She moved closer to him and wrapped her hands around his neck, her body full of desire. They were still kissing, and she didn’t want it to stop. Fergus suddenly lifted her and placed her on his lap. The movement caused the bottle of alcohol to fall off the table, causing it to make a shattering sound that snapped her back to her senses.She continued to kiss him. He grabbed her hair and kissed her deeper. She could feel the slight bulge between his legs from under her. She started to move her hips slowly, letting her pussy slowly grind against his clothed dick. Then she moved faster, rubbing herself against his dick, which was hardening by every second.His lips left her neck and moved to her breasts.