YEARN FOR YOU

Secret Hours

Lizzy had started lying without hesitation.

She told her colleagues she was staying behind to finish reports. She told Cherry she was exhausted and going straight home. In truth, she waited until the office was empty, heart already racing, then walked into Freddy’s office like it was the only place she belonged.

Tonight, the moment the last person left, Freddy locked the door and pulled her against him. Their kiss was immediate and hungry. His hands slid under her blouse while she unbuckled his belt with familiar urgency.

He took her over the desk first — deep, controlled strokes that made her grip the edge and moan into her arm. But afterward, he didn’t let her leave. He sat in his chair and pulled her onto his lap, still inside her, arms locked tightly around her waist.

Lizzy rested her head on his shoulder, breathing him in.

“You’re quiet,” he murmured.

“I’m thinking.”

“About what?”

She hesitated. The truth sat heavy on her tongue. “About how dangerous this is. About how someone could find out. About how I don’t want it to stop even though I know I should.”

Freddy’s hand stroked slowly up and down her back. When he spoke, his voice was low and serious.

“I don’t want it to stop either.”

The confession settled between them, heavier than any of the filthy things they had done. Lizzy closed her eyes. For the first time, the attachment felt real — not just lust, but something that was starting to root itself deeper and more dangerously.

When he finally drove her home, he held her hand the entire way. At her door, he kissed her forehead instead of her mouth.

“Same time tomorrow,” he said softly.

Lizzy nodded, chest tight.

She was falling.

And the more she fell, the more she feared what would happen when it all came apart.

---

Across the city, Cherry was already in bed with her phone, heart restless.

Richard had been texting her nonstop.

**Richard:**

*I can’t stop thinking about you.*

*About the sounds you make when you come.*

*About how wet you get just from my voice.*

Cherry’s thighs pressed together. She was already touching herself before he even asked.

**Richard:**

*Show me.*

*I want to see how wet you are for me right now.*

She obeyed without hesitation. The photo she sent was shameless — fingers spreading herself open, glistening and ready. His reply came almost instantly.

**Richard:**

*Fuck.*

*I’m stroking my c**k looking at this.*

*I want to bury myself inside you until you can’t think straight.*

Cherry’s breathing turned uneven. She pushed two fingers inside herself, then a third, f*****g herself to the rhythm of his words. But even as pleasure built, a quiet anxiety sat under it.

He still refused video calls.

He still never showed his face.

And every time she almost asked again, the fear of losing him stopped her.

**Richard:**

*Talk to me. Tell me how it feels.*

“It feels so good,” she whispered into the voice note, voice already shaking. “But I want it to be you. I want your c**k. I want you to stretch me open and ruin me.”

His next messages were filthier. More possessive. He told her exactly how he would f**k her, how he would hold her down, how he would make her come until she cried. Cherry came hard with his name on her lips, body trembling, phone still pressed to her ear.

Even after the orgasm faded, she didn’t feel satisfied.

She felt emptier.

Addicted.

She scrolled back through their chat, re-reading every dirty promise, every late-night confession. The more she gave him, the more she needed. The thought of a day without his messages already made her chest tight with panic.

Cherry turned onto her side, phone clutched to her chest, and stared at the ceiling.

She was in too deep.

And the most terrifying part was that she no longer wanted to climb out.