Chapter 19

Her thoughts were racing, a tumult of confusion and need. She knew she had to get out of there before her husband woke up, before he found out about their transgression. Jasmine carefully extricated herself from the tangle of limbs, her movements silent and precise. She slid out of bed, her body feeling both heavy and weightless.

Her eyes fell upon one of Dante’s oversized shirts, discarded on the floor. Without thinking, Jasmine grabbed it, pulling it over her naked body. It hung off her in a way that was both comforting and alien, like a stolen piece of his identity. The fabric was warm from his body, and Jasmine took a moment to breathe in the scent of him before she hurried out of the room.

The hallway was dim, the early morning light barely reaching the corners. Jasmine’s heart was in her throat as she tiptoed down the hall, her bare feet making no sound on the cold wooden floor. She could hear the muffled sounds of her husband moving around in their bedroom. The thought of him discovering her in such a state made her stomach churn.

And then, she heard it: the click of the doorknob from her own room. Jasmine froze, her heart hammering in her chest like a drum. She held her breath, waiting for the inevitable discovery. The door creaked open, and her husband emerged into the hallway.

“Jasmine?” His voice was thick with sleep, a hint of concern in his tone. “Is that you?”

Her own voice was shaky as she replied, “Yes, honey. I didn’t feel well last night, so I slept in the guest room.” Jasmine’s mind raced, trying to come up with a believable lie.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t even realize,” he said, his eyes squinting in the low light. “You looked a bit off at dinner.”

“It was probably just something I ate,” Jasmine said, trying to keep her voice calm. “But I’m feeling much better now, thank you.”

Her husband yawned, stretching his arms over his head. “Well, that’s good,” he said, his eyes dropping to her disheveled form. “But maybe you should take it easy today.”

“I will,” Jasmine said, forcing a smile. “I think I’m just going to take a shower now.”

He nodded, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Alright, I’ll get the coffee started,” he said before turning and heading down the stairs. Jasmine listened to the sound of his footsteps fade away before she let out a shaky breath.

Dante stirred, the warmth of Jasmine’s body missing from his side. He sat up, the reality of the situation crashing down on him like a ton of bricks. He took in the sight of her empty space in the bed, the sheets rumpled and stained with their passion. He couldn’t believe what had happened. His cock was still semi-hard, a testament to the vividness of his dream.

But as he looked around, he noticed that Jasmine’s clothes were scattered on the floor, and the unmistakable scent of sex hung heavy in the air. He picked up her panties, the musky scent of her arousal making his heart race. It wasn’t a dream, it was real. His mother had been here, they had done it. The guilt and excitement mixed within him, a potent cocktail that made him feel both sick and alive at the same time.

With a trembling hand, he brought the lace to his nose and inhaled deeply. The smell of her filled him with a hunger that was insatiable. He could still feel the warmth of her pussy, the way she had clenched around him, milking his hard cock. The memory of her cries of pleasure, the way she had called him baby, echoed in his ears.

He stood, pulling on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, the fabric sticking to his sweat-drenched body. His cock was still semi-hard, straining against the fabric. He needed to get downstairs, to make sure everything was okay.

As he descended the stairs, the smell of coffee brewing filled the house. His father was already dressed, ready to leave for work. He looked up from his newspaper, his eyes briefly scanning over Dante’s disheveled form before returning to the headlines. “Morning,” he said, his voice gruff with the early hour.

“Hey, Dad,” Dante managed, his voice a little too cheerful. He tried to act nonchalant, like he hadn’t just fucked his mother moments ago.

“Your mother’s not feeling well,” his father said, frowning. “Said she’d be fine, but I told her to take it easy today.”

Dante’s heart skipped a beat, his stomach doing a somersault. “Oh no,” he said, trying to keep his voice even. “What’s wrong with her?”

“Don’t know,” his father shrugged. “Said it was something she ate. She’s in the shower now, should be out in a bit.” He took a sip of his coffee, his eyes never leaving the paper. “Make sure you check on her, okay?”

“Don’t worry, Dad,” Dante said, his voice thick with the promise of what was to come. “I’ll take good care of her.”

His father nodded, seemingly oblivious to the double meaning behind his words. “Thank you, son,” he said, before gathering his things and heading out the door.