Late Night, Forced Payment

The insistent buzz of my phone yanked me from the throbbing remnants of the Rugby League match, the roar of the crowd still echoing faintly in my ears. It was Liam, my husband, sending a frantic series of texts about a last-minute work assignment that kept him chained to his desk. "Late, babe, really late," one read, followed by a desperate plea: "You owe me, and I need you now." The words sent a jolt of heat through me, a delicious wave of anticipation that chased away the lingering fatigue. I’d been teasing him all day, pushing boundaries, feeding his desire for a raw, uninhibited encounter, and now, this. This was precisely the kind of attention he craved.

As I pulled into our driveway, the scene before me was a chaotic mix of blue and maroon, the unmistakable colors of the State of Origin rivalry. Our friends, a boisterous group of Queenslanders and New South Wales supporters, had gathered outside, their laughter and chatter spilling out onto the street. Liam was already inside, the scent of his cologne – sandalwood and citrus – a potent reminder of his presence, even before I’d stepped foot inside the house.

A wave of guilt washed over me as I surveyed the scene, realizing the sheer awkwardness of the situation. I had been so focused on pushing Liam, on feeding his urges, that I hadn’t considered the ramifications. Now, trapped here, caught between my desire for immediate gratification and the obligations of hosting, I felt a surge of panic. My carefully constructed facade of nonchalance threatened to crumble.

"Damn," I thought, staring down at my damp blouse, the orange stain a visible testament to our impromptu encounter. The thought of our guests arriving any minute, witnessing this mess, sent a shiver down my spine. "Guess we'll have to wait till after they leave. Hopefully, our team will win, and this whole thing will feel less like a disaster."

I took a deep breath, trying to regain my composure, and headed towards the doorway. The air was thick with conversation, punctuated by the infectious laughter of our friends and the undeniable sound of Liam’s booming voice. He was pouring soft drinks, his movements confident and relaxed. As I walked in, my friend, Sarah, gave me a playful jab on the arm. “Oh, look who decided to join us!” she exclaimed, gesturing to her blue New South Wales jersey. The rest of the group mirrored her enthusiasm, sporting their team colors with pride. Liam, the sole Queenslander among them, looked up at me with a knowing smile, his dark eyes lingering on my face.

“Hi, babe,” he said, his voice laced with a hint of mischief. “So, how’re things at work? Can’t believe you had to stay back because everyone else decided to leave early.”

“I know, right?! But it’s okay because I get a shorter day tomorrow, which means I can sleep in. And anyway, I’m just in time for the game,” I replied, pointing towards the large TV screen where the players were singing the national anthem. The crowd turned, their faces filled with anticipation.

As we settled onto the couch, the familiar scent of beer and chips filled the air. The game was on, and the tension between the states was palpable. But even amidst the excitement, my thoughts kept drifting back to Liam, to the urgency in his texts, to the unfulfilled desire that simmered beneath the surface.

Just as I was starting to relax, a sudden commotion erupted near the kitchen counter. Liam bumped into me, sending a cascade of sticky, orange soda down my front. My white blouse was now soaked and stained, a stark contrast to the pristine surroundings.

“Baby, I’m so sorry! You okay?” he exclaimed, frantically grabbing a dish towel and dabbing at the mess, then using it to clean the counter. “Don’t worry, I’ll just quickly go and change. You guys start watching. All good, bub, I got this. It ain’t so bad.”

I chuckled, pushing him away gently. “Don’t worry, I’m okay. I’ll just quickly go and change and freshen up. You guys start watching. All good bub, I got this. It ain’t so bad.” I dashed into our bedroom, stripping down to my underwear and tossing my blouse aside. The dampness clung to my skin, a reminder of the earlier encounter, as I slipped into a pair of worn denim shorts.

As I stood before the mirror, admiring my reflection, I heard the door to our bathroom slowly close. Liam must be coming in to change his shirt, I thought, a flicker of anticipation igniting within me. Just as I suspected, he appeared moments later, shirtless and with a serious expression on his face.

“Hi, babe,” he said, his voice tinged with a playful challenge. “How’s the view?”

I turned to face him, my heart pounding in my chest. His dark eyes met mine, a silent invitation hanging in the air. I took a step closer, closing the distance between us, and gave him a lingering kiss on the cheek. The scent of his skin, warm and familiar, sent a shiver down my spine. He had a fresh shave, and his lightly scented skin felt incredibly smooth beneath my lips.

“So, how’re things at work?” he asked, his voice low and husky. “Can’t believe you had to stay back because everyone else decided to leave early.”

“I know, right?! But it’s okay because I get a shorter day tomorrow, which means I can sleep in. And anyway, I’m just in time for the game,” I replied, my voice barely a whisper. The thought of Liam’s touch, the feeling of his body against mine, was intoxicating.

As the game progressed, the tension in the room grew thicker. Every tackle, every score, every near miss ratcheted up the excitement. But my focus remained solely on Liam, on the simmering desire that threatened to erupt at any moment.

Just as the score reached a pivotal point, another commotion erupted near the kitchen counter. This time, it was more violent, more insistent. Liam bumped into me again, sending another wave of sticky, orange soda down my front. This time, the stain was darker, more pronounced, a visual representation of the raw passion that surged through me.

“Baby, I’m so sorry! You okay?” he exclaimed, frantically grabbing a dish towel and dabbing at the mess, then using it to clean the counter. “Don’t worry, I’ll just quickly go and change. You guys start watching. All good bub, I got this. It ain’t so bad.”

I let out a nervous giggle, pushing him away gently. “Don’t worry, I’m okay. I’ll just quickly go and change and freshen up. You guys start watching. All good bub, I got this. It ain’t so bad.” I rushed into our bedroom, determined to escape the awkwardness and find some semblance of privacy.

As I stripped down in the ensuite, the cool tiles beneath my feet offered a welcome respite from the heat of the moment. The scent of pine cleaner filled the air, a sharp contrast to the lingering aroma of beer and soda. Looking at my reflection in the mirror, I caught sight of the orange stain on my white underwear, a stark reminder of our earlier encounter. I knew the landlord wouldn't appreciate the polka-dotted carpet, but I couldn't bring myself to care. Not at this moment.

Suddenly, I heard the bedroom door close behind me. Liam must be coming in to change his shirt, I thought, a thrill of anticipation running through me. Just as I suspected, he appeared moments later, shirtless and with a serious expression on his face.

“Hi, babe,” he said, his voice low and husky. “How’s the view?”

I turned to face him, my heart pounding in my chest. His dark eyes met mine, a silent invitation hanging in the air. I took a step closer, closing the distance between us, and gave him a lingering kiss on the cheek. The scent of his skin, warm and familiar, sent a shiver down my spine. He had a fresh shave, and his lightly scented skin felt incredibly smooth beneath my lips.

“So, how’re things at work?” he asked, his voice low and husky. “Can’t believe you had to stay back because everyone else decided to leave early.”

“I know, right?! But it’s okay because I get a shorter day tomorrow, which means I can sleep in. And anyway, I’m just in time for the game,” I replied, my voice barely a whisper. The thought of Liam’s touch, the feeling of his body against mine, was intoxicating.

As the game progressed, the tension in the room grew thicker. Every tackle, every score, every near miss ratcheted up the excitement. But my focus remained solely on Liam, on the simmering desire that threatened to erupt at any moment.

Just as the score reached a pivotal point, another commotion erupted near the kitchen counter. This time, it was more violent, more insistent. Liam bumped into me again, sending another wave of sticky, orange soda down my front. This time, the stain was darker, more pronounced, a visual representation of the raw passion that surged through me.

“Baby, I’m so sorry! You okay?” he exclaimed, frantically grabbing a dish towel and dabbing at the mess, then using it to clean the counter. “Don’t worry, I’ll just quickly go and change. You guys start watching. All good bub, I got this. It ain’t so bad.”

I let out a nervous giggle, pushing him away gently. “Don’t worry, I’m okay. I’ll just quickly go and change and freshen up. You guys start watching. All good bub, I got this. It ain’t so bad.” I rushed into our bedroom, determined to escape the awkwardness and find some semblance of privacy.

As I stripped down to my bra, the cool tiles beneath my feet offered a welcome respite from the heat of the moment. Looking at my reflection in the mirror, I caught sight of the orange stain on my white underwear, a stark reminder of our earlier encounter. I knew the landlord wouldn’t appreciate the polka-dotted carpet, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. Not at this moment.

Just then, the bedroom door swung open, revealing Liam standing before me, shirtless and radiating an intense gaze. He wore a smirk on his face, a silent challenge hanging in the air.

“Now, let’s get this over with,” he said, his voice low and seductive. He reached for me, pulling me into a passionate embrace. As he did, I noticed a mischievous glint in his eyes. Something about this felt different, more intense than our previous encounters. I realized that he wasn't just seeking physical pleasure; he wanted to dominate me, to possess me, to push me to my limits.

As he pulled me closer, I felt his hand grasp my hair, pulling me towards him with unrelenting force. His other hand began to circle my waist, drawing me closer and closer until we were locked in an intimate embrace. He leaned in, pressing his lips against my neck, and I let out a moan of pleasure.

“You were late,” he whispered, his voice a low rumble against my skin. “You owe me… and I want my payment upfront.”

Before I could respond, he thrust himself into me, initiating a frenzied assault that left me breathless and overwhelmed. The sensation was both exhilarating and terrifying, a perfect blend of pleasure and panic. As we continued to escalate the intensity, I realized that Liam was determined to make me pay for my tardiness, to take control of the situation and force me to submit to his every whim.

The next thing I knew, I was being pulled backwards, facing the mirror. Liam’s hand clamped onto my mouth, silencing my protests. He then began to pull me closer, his body pressing against mine. I felt the weight of his desire, the sheer force of his need, as he dominated me. The game was forgotten, the guests unnoticed, as we plunged deeper into a world of raw, unbridled passion. The world outside our bedroom ceased to exist. It was just him and me, lost in the depths of our own desires. And as the last echoes of the State of Origin game faded into the background, I knew that this was only the beginning. This was the start of something new, something dangerous, something utterly captivating. A payment that was both painful and satisfying.

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