The cool tile of the kitchen floor pressed against Rebecca's back as she stared at the ceiling, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. The weight of what just happened slowly began to settle in. The guilt was there, coiled up in the pit of her stomach, but so was the undeniable satisfaction humming through her body. She turned her head to look at Dick, lying beside her, his arm lazily draped across his chest, eyes half-closed, his breath steady.
The silence between them stretched, but it wasn't uncomfortable. For once, Rebecca didn't feel the crushing loneliness that usually hovered over her like a shadow. She was drained, her body aching in all the right ways, but there was something more—a sense of relief, of release, like a weight had been lifted from her chest.
She rolled onto her side, propping herself up on one elbow to look at him. His eyes were closed, his face relaxed in a way that made him look almost innocent, a far cry from the intensity he'd shown just moments ago. A small, guilty smile tugged at the corners of her lips. She shouldn't be happy. She shouldn't feel this good, not after what they'd done.
But damn it, she did.
"You're quiet," Dick murmured without opening his eyes, his voice rough, almost teasing.
Rebecca let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head slightly. "Just... thinking."
"Don't," he said, his voice a lazy drawl. "Not right now."
She bit her lip, staring down at him, the warmth from their shared moment still lingering in her body. He made it sound so simple, so easy to just forget about everything—the years of neglect, the constant disappointments, the guilt gnawing at her.
"I can't help it," she admitted softly, though her tone was more playful than conflicted. Her fingers traced a small circle on his chest, barely touching him but enough to feel the firmness of his skin. She felt the shift in his breathing under her hand as he cracked an eye open, a half-smirk curling on his lips.
"I didn't take you for someone who overthinks things," he joked, knowing how much of an overthinker she was, his hand moving to rest on her waist, fingers brushing lightly over her skin.
Rebecca's gaze flicked to his hand, then back to his face. "I didn't think I'd be here, either."
"You mean on the kitchen floor?" he quipped, smirking wider now.
She chuckled despite herself, rolling her eyes. "You know what I mean."
He let out a low hum, his fingers tightening just slightly on her waist. "Maybe you overthink because you haven't had anyone give you a reason not to."
Rebecca blinked, taken aback by the simplicity of his words. There it was again, that strange blend of confidence and understanding that he seemed to carry with him now, like he saw through all her defenses, all her insecurities. It should have made her uncomfortable, but instead, it was... liberating.
"I guess not," she murmured, her thumb idly stroking his skin. "But that doesn't make this... easier."
"I didn't say it would be easy," Dick replied, his voice calm. "I just said you don't have to overthink it."
Rebecca let out a shaky breath, her eyes drifting to the window, where the late evening light cast long shadows across the floor. She was standing at a crossroads, caught between the guilt of her actions and the undeniable desire for more. She knew she should feel ashamed, should be thinking about Rick, about her daughters, about everything that could fall apart if this went on any further.
But right now, lying here with him, those thoughts felt distant, almost irrelevant.
"Do you regret it?" she asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper, almost afraid of the answer.
Dick's eyes opened fully, his gaze locking onto hers. "No."
The answer was immediate, firm, and it sent a jolt through her. She'd expected hesitation, maybe even a half-hearted attempt to brush it off. But there was none of that. He was certain.
"And you?" he asked, his voice lower, more serious now.
Rebecca hesitated for a moment, the word yes on the tip of her tongue. She should regret it. She should feel ashamed, guilty, like she'd betrayed everything she was supposed to stand for.
But as she looked at him, lying there so calm and unbothered, she realized the truth. No, she didn't regret it—not really. Maybe she would tomorrow, maybe even in an hour. But right now?
"No," she whispered, her voice barely audible, but the word carried more weight than she expected.
He smiled, just a little, but didn't say anything more.
"Did you have to call Rick?" Rebecca asked, half-pouting as she shifted beside him. The memory of what had just happened—his demand, her compliance—lingered, sending a shiver through her. At the time, it had been exciting, a rush of adrenaline. She'd called Rick mid-sex, trying to keep her voice steady, playing the role of the perfect abandoned wife while Dick's cock inside her, keeping her grounded in the illicit reality of the moment.
Now, though, as the haze lifted, the recklessness of it made her heart race for a different reason.
Dick didn't move. "Yeah, I did," he said, eyes half-lidded. "And you liked it."
Rebecca's face flushed, her body betraying her with the warmth that spread across her skin. She couldn't deny it. The thrill of calling her husband, knowing what she was doing, knowing what Dick was doing—it had been intoxicating.
"It was... dangerous," she murmured, as if saying it aloud might absolve her of the guilt creeping back in.
"That's what made it fun." Dick's voice was steady, matter-of-fact, and he shifted, propping himself up on one elbow. He was looking at her now, dark eyes tracing the lines of her face. "You like pushing the edge, Rebecca. You're not as stuck as you think."
Rebecca swallowed hard, her gaze dropping to his chest, unable to meet the intensity in his eyes. He was right, of course. She'd crossed lines she never imagined crossing. Yet here she was, still wanting more.
She sighed, pushing herself upright, the cool air from the kitchen floor sending a chill through her. "I should go and take a bath," she muttered, though her body was slow to follow the words.
"You could," Dick said, not bothering to stop her, but there was a challenge in his tone. "Or you could stay."
Rebecca bit her lip, torn between the voice in her head screaming for her to leave and the pull of the man beside her. "I don't know how to do this," she admitted quietly. "I've never—"
"You're overthinking again." Dick cut her off, sitting up fully now, his gaze locked onto hers. "Don't complicate it. This is simple. You want it, or you don't. That's it."
Rebecca's pulse quickened. Simple? There was nothing simple about this. About him. About what they were doing. But the way he said it, the calm certainty in his voice, made it seem... possible. Like it didn't have to be a mess of guilt and fear. Like it could just be about what she wanted.
"I..." she started, but her words trailed off. She didn't know how to finish the sentence.
Dick didn't wait for her to find the words. He leaned in, his hand slipping back to her waist, pulling her closer until their faces were inches apart. "You don't have to explain it," he whispered, his breath warm against her skin. "Just stay."
Rebecca's eyes fluttered shut for a moment, her body leaning into him almost unconsciously. It would be so easy to stay. To let herself forget everything else. But then the image of Rick flashed in her mind, and her eyes snapped open, guilt crashing back into her chest.
"I... I can't," she stammered, pulling away, standing up too quickly. The rush made her dizzy, but she steadied herself against the counter, not daring to look back at him. "I can't do this right now."
Dick didn't argue. He didn't beg her to stay or try to convince her otherwise. He just watched her, his face calm. "Alright," he said simply.
Rebecca grabbed her clothes from the floor, hurriedly pulling them on as the weight of what they'd done settled over her like a heavy blanket. "I will see you later," she muttered, more to herself than to him. "I need to think."
Dick stood up slowly, stretching, his movements unhurried. "Take your time," he said lazily. "You know where to find me."
Dick left Rebecca's house quietly, slipping out the back door and into the cool night air. His mind wasn't clouded with second thoughts or guilt. That wasn't how he operated anymore. He knew what he wanted, and tonight was a significant step toward that goal.
Rebecca had been more than willing, even if she wouldn't admit it to herself yet. The hesitation, the guilt—those were just remnants of a life she no longer fit into, like a snake shedding its skin. She'd be back, he knew that. The way she kissed him, held onto him like he was the only solid thing in her unraveling world, told him everything he needed to know. The cracks in her perfect suburban life were wide open, and he was more than ready to step in and take what Rick had left neglected for years.
Reaching his front door, he pushed it open. Feeling Rebecca's perfume still lingering on his clothes. The irony wasn't lost on him—the same man who was supposed to be the pillar of her life was too busy chasing his career, oblivious to the fact that his wife was now wrapped around Dick's finger.
"Pathetic," Dick muttered under his breath. Rick had it all, the perfect family, the successful career, the respect of his peers, and yet he'd let his wife rot in that empty house, desperate for any scrap of attention. But that was the thing about men like Rick—they were blind to the details that mattered.
He climbed the stairs slowly, careful to avoid Carla and others. Tonight had been a win. Not just physically, though that had its perks, but because he'd secured his place in Rebecca's life in a way that went beyond just lust. She needed him now, maybe more than she realized. And that need would only grow.
[Quest Complete: "Love Through Cuckoldry"
Objective: Win over Mrs. Avery's heart by offering her the love and attention she craves. Slowly cuckold Mr. Avery by becoming the emotional and physical support she needs.
Reward: 20 Netori Points.
Unlock Special Ability: Emotional Rejuvenation – You can now passively enhance emotional connections with women, making them more dependent on you for validation and intimacy.]
Entering his room, Dick whistled low, tossing his jacket onto the chair by the desk. "Nice one," he thought, stretching his arms behind his head. Tonight had gone better than expected.
He kicked off his shoes, flexing his toes against the cold floor. His phone buzzed, pulling him out of his thoughts. Glancing at the screen, he saw another message from Paige.
Paige: You alive?
Dick rolled his eyes, thumbs moving over the screen lazily.
Dick: You text like a clingy ex.
Paige: Don't flatter yourself. I just want to make sure my trainer doesn't ditch me tomorrow.
Dick chuckled, tossing the phone onto the bed beside him. Paige was persistent; he'd give her that. The screen lit up again with another message.
Paige: And?
Dick: Tomorrow, 11 a.m. I know.
Her reply came faster than he expected.
Paige: You better.
The next morning, Dick woke up to the sharp beep of his alarm. First day of classes. He rolled out of bed for a quick shower and washed away the lingering scent of Rebecca's perfume.
His phone buzzed as he pulled on a clean shirt. Paige again. She was relentless.
Paige: Ready for school hot shot?
He sent a simple "yeah" back. He'd deal with her later. Dick grabbed his bag, slung it over his shoulder, and headed out.