Chapter 13: Shadows After Midnight
622 Words
The clock read 2:13 a.m.
Mike lay in bed, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling like it had answers. Diana's soft breathing was steady beside him, her head nestled into his shoulder. He hadn’t moved for hours, afraid that any shift in his body might summon the storm waiting just down the hall.
But the storm didn’t wait.
He heard it—the sound of bare feet on the hallway floor.
Soft. Deliberate.
A few seconds passed, and then the bedroom door creaked open.
Mike froze.
He didn't need to turn his head to know who it was.
Karen.
He heard the door close gently behind her. He felt her presence long before he saw her. There was something heavy in the air now, humid and charged, like the quiet before lightning struck.
Slowly, he turned his head.
Karen stood at the foot of the bed. Her robe was gone. She wore only a silk camisole and underwear that barely qualified as clothing. The moonlight from the window kissed her skin, highlighting every curve like it was sculpted from shadow and fire.
He didn’t say a word.
She lifted a finger to her lips. "Shh."
Then she climbed onto the bed.
Mike's breath hitched.
She crawled up slowly, her eyes locked on his. He could hear his own heart pounding in his ears. Karen moved with quiet purpose, not even glancing at Diana sleeping just inches away. It was like she was daring him to make a sound.
She straddled him again.
Mike felt her warmth immediately, her thighs wrapping around his hips, her weight pressing down. She didn’t grind yet. Not this time. She just sat there, her hands flat on his chest, feeling the rapid thump of his pulse.
“You’re awake,” she whispered.
“Karen... don’t.” His voice was barely audible.
“I won’t go far,” she breathed. “I just want to feel you.”
Her hips shifted slightly. Just enough. The friction sent a surge through him so powerful, he almost gasped.
He gritted his teeth. His hands gripped the sheets instead of her. If he touched her now, even by mistake, it would be over.
Diana stirred.
Karen froze.
Mike held his breath.
But Diana only shifted in her sleep, rolling over to face the other direction.
Karen smiled.
And then she began to move.
Slow. Intentional. Her hips circled in gentle waves, just enough to drive him mad. Mike clenched his jaw, his body screaming under the weight of her rhythm. Every fiber of his being wanted to give in. To grab her. To thrust upward and end the torture.
But he couldn’t. Diana was right there.
Karen leaned down, her lips a whisper from his ear. "You want me to stop?"
He couldn't answer. He didn’t trust his voice.
She moved harder.
He squeezed his eyes shut. His legs trembled. His body was betraying him again, rising to meet her rhythm no matter how tightly he fought it.
“I think you like this more when she’s right next to you,” Karen murmured.
Mike let out a low, broken sound. Not a moan. Not a plea. Just pain.
And desire.
He was seconds away from losing it. From reaching up and ripping away every boundary that had kept this madness contained.
But then...
Diana stirred again.
Karen stopped.
She looked down at him, her lips curved into a wicked grin. She leaned down, kissed his neck once—soft and slow.
Then she climbed off, just as silently as she had come.
Mike lay there, paralyzed.
The door closed.
The silence returned.
But inside Mike, everything was screaming.
He had survived the night.
Barely.
But for how much longer?
- Writer
