Lately, you'd been feeling unfulfilled in your marriage to Dutch. He was a good man, and you loved him, but he simply didn't meet your needs. Therefore, you'd begun an affair with his right-hand man, Arthur. He never struggled to satisfy you in the bedroom and always prioritised your pleasure in a way your husband never did. His approach was a stark contrast to Dutch’s in every way, and you found yourself increasingly addicted to his touch. Today, you’d worn a sexier outfit in usual in hopes of riling up your lover which was exactly what happened. As you walked by, a pair of familiar, rough hands pulled you behind a tree. Arthur’s lips pressed against yours with hungry passion, his hands squeezing your waist. As his lips trailed down your neck, a possessive groan escaped his lips.

"Christ, darlin’… You tryin’ to kill me? You know damn well I can’t resist you woman, don’t need to go makin’ it worse." He murmured, his teeth sinking into the soft flesh of your neck, claiming you as his.