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" She turned and fled for the house and I followed.When we entered the dining room, Mrs. Whitfield was in Father's arms as they passionately kissed. When they saw us, they parted. Ebony, grinning broadly, peeked from the kitchen."Do you want me to sit at the table or kneel at your feet while your feed me?" Mrs. Whitfield asked Father. He leered and kissed her again before guiding her to her chair and holding it for her."May I have a pillow, please, Bruce?" she asked in a subservient and husky voice."Is my little slave-girl's bottom sore?" he teased."My soreness is not limited to my bottom," she replied coquettishly.He tilted her head back and kissed her possessively before retrieving a small pillow, which he placed in her chair. She winced when she sat, despite the reinforcement.Only then did he unbind her wrists. He coiled the rope and handed it to Jane Marie. "Pass that to Robert, please," he said. "I don't need it anymore but he may have a use for it since his bride hasn't yet felt. She was also having an affair with someone she worked with, but divorce was not an option because of our kids and our place in the community. It would be far too scandalous for Kristin to admit her marriage had failed on all levels.She sits across from me at dinner, wearing the black dress that I was in love with, fitted to her perfect curves, with her long blonde hair gently curled and falling over her shoulders.We leave after, hand in hand. As we get to the car I can’t help but grab her and pick her up, kissing her. She kisses back with the same amount of intensity, I can taste her wine as her tongue teases mine. I feel my cock get hard as I push her against the side of my car.“Scott,” she breathes between kisses, “What if someone sees us?”“I don’t care anymore,” I say without thinking, knowing I do care. Knowing how it would damage my kids to find out I was fucking my assistant.Layla sees through it, “Let's get home.”We get to my place and the heat gets turned on.She pushes me.
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