Sleeping with My Cheating Husband's Friend

Sienna

"FIVE THOUSAND dollars. You come with me tonight," I said, waving the check in front of the young man's face as he placed the drink in front me.

His hand trembled just slightly. I didn't take the drink. Not yet. Not until I made my terms clear. I reached out, one finger hooking the collar of his crisp, white shirt. My nails pressed lightly, almost teasingly, but the pressure was enough to claim control.

"I said…" I repeated near his lips. "You will come with me tonight."

His eyes flickered with hesitation. For a second, I wondered if he would back down. But then he nodded, a small, almost imperceptible motion of compliance.

I released his collar, letting my hand drop to my side, and spoke again, calm and commanding. "Kneel."

He obeyed immediately, dropping to his knees on the plush carpet. Both hands held the glass out toward me as if presenting a treasure, though it was nothing more than an ordinary drink.

I leaned forward and took it, tilting my head back and drinking half of it in a single motion. The warmth spread down my throat, a faint burn that seemed appropriate.

He looked up at me, wide-eyed, and asked cautiously, "Are you upset?"

For a heartbeat, my mind flashed to Marcus, my husband, his handsome, charming face, the lies he'd told, the women he'd brought home. I let a smile form on my lips, though it was cold, detached. I lifted my foot and pressed it onto the young man's shoulder, feeling the fabric of his shirt stretch slightly under my heel.

"How do you plan to please me?" I asked.

He swallowed hard. "Anything… whatever you want," he whispered.

I studied him briefly, measuring, assessing. His age, his build, the faint nervous tremor in his hands. Through a brief conversation, I learned the basics, age, hometown, his experience. Then I asked for something more practical.

"Medical report."

His eyes widened. He fumbled with his phone, swiping to find the file and holding it out for me. But before my fingers could touch the screen, a larger hand snatched the device away.

We both looked up.

Nate.

Of course it had to be him. One of Marcus's closest friends. Calm. Sharp. Dangerous in a way that made my pulse quicken even as I tried to remain composed. He glanced at the medical report on the screen, his expression neutral, then gave a small, teasing remark.

"Seems like you're in a good mood tonight," he said casually.

I withdrew my foot from the young man's shoulder and waved at him without expression. The boy didn't hesitate, he grabbed his phone and fled, the door clicking shut behind him.

Now it was just Nate and me.

I reached for my bag, ready to leave, but he moved first, sitting beside me on the leather chair. The air shifted between us, charged, intimate, like the space itself had narrowed to only where we sat.

"Why are you here?" I asked, curious and cautious.

He leaned closer, his voice low, teasing. "Are you doing this to punish your husband?"

A smirk tugged at my lips, though I didn't let it fully bloom. He already knew. Nate already knew about Marcus's affair. The thought sent a ripple of satisfaction through me. The young man I had just hired, his purpose, fleeting though it was, would soon reach Marcus's ears. The plan was already in motion.

Nate's fingers brushed against my ear, pinching the lobe lightly, breaking me from my thoughts. We were close now, noses nearly touching. His green eyes bore into mine with that unnerving calm certainty.

"Do you blame me for not telling you sooner?" he asked.

I said nothing. Words would only complicate it.

"Marcus's lovers," he continued, pressing just a little, voice steady, deliberate, "they're just flings. He won't leave you. Not for them."

I pushed his hand away, forcing the air back into my lungs, steadying my pulse.

He didn't back down. Instead, he showed me his phone, his own medical report, displayed for emphasis. Then he leaned closer once more, voice low and insistent.

"We can have sex," he said.

The words hit me, deliberate, bold, impossible to ignore. My mind raced, anger, curiosity, anticipation, the faint stirrings of something dangerous that I couldn't name.

I froze for a moment, assessing him, assessing myself. He wasn't asking. He was stating. Offering. Provoking. Testing me in the way only Nate could.

"You're insane," I whispered, though it carried no real accusation.

He smirked, almost approving, leaning back slightly but never breaking eye contact. "Maybe. Or maybe I just see things clearly. I see what you need."

I swallowed, a sudden awareness rising in my chest, a mix of caution and thrill. He was dangerous.

Nate… he challenged, he pushed, he read me, and he knew exactly how to make me respond.

Before I could even find the words to respond, Nate spoke again, calm, deliberate, like he'd already read the thoughts spinning in my head.

"Marcus won't find out."

The certainty in his tone made me freeze for a heartbeat.

"Excuse me?" I asked, incredulous, "You...why would you even say that? Given… your friendship?"

He leaned back, one arm draped casually over the edge of the chair. His gaze didn't waver, steady, unyielding. "Yes, I'm his friend," he said simply, "And yes, I know it's complicated. But there's a difference between friendship and loyalty. Sometimes, loyalty has to bend to reality."

I frowned, confused, and maybe slightly irritated. "Reality? You're offering to sleep with me, so he won't know?"

His lips curved into a small, knowing smile. "Exactly."

I laughed, "You don't even make sense."

"Not yet," he admitted, his tone casual, "But think about it. If you sleep with me tonight, it's not just about pleasure, Sienna. It's about power. It's about making him feel something he hasn't yet, the sting of betrayal by someone he trusted."

I blinked, incredulous. He's… insane.