I told myself I was done with Jody the day I married Nick. But some men don’t take no for an answer—and some women don’t really want them to.

Even after the wedding, Jody’s name kept lighting up my Facebook messenger. Reminders of how he used to own me. I should have blocked him. But the way his words made my body ache? I couldn’t. I told myself I was just being friendly, that I had it under control. But the truth? His attention thrilled me. The secrecy, the danger—it was intoxicating.

Then, one humid afternoon, the doorbell shattered the silence.

I opened it, and there he was, taller, broader, his cocky grin twisting my stomach into knots. In his hand, a thick ivory envelope. His wedding invitation.

"Couldn’t let you find out from someone else," he murmured, eyes dragging down my body like I was already naked.

I forced a smile. "Congratulations."

But he didn’t leave. Instead, he stepped inside, kicking the door shut behind him. The air turned thick, suffocating.

"You miss me?" he asked, fingers brushing my ass.

I should’ve pushed him away. But my pulse raced under his touch, my breath already ragged.

His grip tightened. "Say it."

"...Yes."

That was all he needed.

His mouth crashed onto mine, rough and demanding. I whimpered as his hands yanked my shorts down, his fingers sliding between my thighs—soaking before he even touched me. We didn’t make it to the couch. He pushed me against the wall, hiking up my dress as I clawed at his belt. There were no words, no apologies—just raw, reckless need

"Still drip for me," he growled, shoving me against the wall. "Even after playing a good wife."

I couldn’t lie. My body never forgot him.

He unbuckled his belt, his cock springing free—thick, flushed, already leaking. No condom. No hesitation. Just pure, raw hunger.

"Beg for it," he ordered, slapping his length against my clit.

"Please fuck me"

He didn’t make me finish. In one brutal thrust, he was inside, stretching me, ruining me. I cried out, nails digging into his shoulders as he fucked me like he was punishing me—for leaving, for marrying someone else, for still being his.

"Take it," he snarled, slamming deeper. "You know this pussy’s mine."

I nodded, God, I did.

My thighs trembled, my moans turning shameless, sloppy. He pistoned into me, sweat-slick skin slapping together, his groans filthy in my ear.

"Gonna fill you up," he promised. "Make sure you remember."

I came first—a white-hot burst, clenching his hard cock like a vice. He cursed, hips stuttering, before burying himself to the hilt. Hot cum pulsed inside me, thick and claiming, dripping down my thighs when he finally pulled out.

He tucked himself away, smirking as he wiped my slick from his cock with my skin .

"See you soon, baby."

Then he was gone.

I slid to the floor, legs shaking, his cum still leaking out of me. Taking a quick break before my 3 kids come back from school.

And I knew—no matter whose ring I wore, Jody would always own this pussy.