Chapter 1: Unseen Thorns
Dave hadn’t meant to spy. He’d come home early from the office, a rare occurrence, with a bottle of Tara’s favorite Merlot tucked under his arm, hoping to surprise her. The sprawling estate they called home was quiet, save for the distant hum of a lawnmower. Tara wasn’t in the kitchen or the sunroom, so he wandered toward the garden—her sanctuary, her escape. That’s when he saw them.
Through the lattice of the rose trellis, Tara’s lithe, tanned body was unmistakable. Her auburn hair spilled over her bare shoulders as she straddled Miguel, the gardener they’d hired last spring. His hands gripped her hips, guiding her with a rhythm that made Dave’s breath catch. She wasn’t just fucking him—she was commanding him, her movements fierce and deliberate, a queen claiming her throne.
Dave froze, the bottle nearly slipping from his grasp. Anger should’ve flared, but instead, a dark heat coiled in his gut. He watched, transfixed, as Tara’s head tilted back, her lips parting in a silent moan. Miguel’s rough hands roamed her curves, and Dave’s mind raced. He should’ve stormed in, demanded answers. But he didn’t. He couldn’t.
“You like that, don’t you?” Tara’s voice cut through the air, sharp and taunting, as she leaned down to murmur against Miguel’s ear. “You think you can handle me, garden boy? Prove it.”
Miguel grinned, his voice a low growl. “I’ve handled tougher weeds than you, señora. Keep riding, and I’ll show you how deep I can plant.”
Tara laughed, a sound like shattered glass, wicked and wild. “Big talk for a man who’s already sweating under me. Don’t come yet—I’m not done playing.”
Dave’s jaw tightened, his fingers digging into the bottle’s neck. He could hear the wet slap of their bodies, see the glisten of sweat on Tara’s skin as she moved with a ferocity he hadn’t seen in years. His own body betrayed him, a hard ache growing as he watched her take control, her pussy grinding against Miguel with a hunger that made Dave’s mouth go dry.
He stepped closer, the gravel crunching underfoot, and Tara’s head snapped up. Her emerald eyes locked on his, and for a heartbeat, time stopped. A smirk curled her lips, not a shred of guilt in sight. “Well, well,” she purred, not slowing her pace for a second. “Look who’s home early. Enjoying the show, darling?”
Dave’s throat worked, words failing him. “Tara, what the hell—”
“Shh,” she cut him off, her voice dripping with challenge as she rolled her hips, making Miguel groan beneath her. “Don’t pretend you’re mad. I can see how hard you are from here. Why don’t you come closer? Or are you just gonna stand there, panting like a horny dog?”
Her words stung, but they burned too, igniting something primal. Dave’s grip on the bottle tightened, his pulse hammering as he took a step forward, the air thick with the scent of roses and raw desire. Tara’s gaze never wavered, daring him, pulling him in. He knew if he crossed that line, there’d be no going back.
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