Married to my Ex-wife's boss

Chapter Twenty-one

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

He contemplated running back in. What the heck? His stomach churned by the sight and his tongue bittered

Had she always been this stupid? He let the wonder crawl round his chest

He had never seen such behavior in her—he had never cared to notice, blind as he has been.

How could she come in such a state? He began to suspect that she must have lost her mind. Or was there another reason for such behavior?

He cocked his head, looked into the peephole again and was blessed with the unmistakable sight.

He shrunk back to think, eyes darting everywhere in confusion and forehead successfully creased to its fullest.

The doorbell rang again, twice. He shifted uneasily. He wasn't one to allow wandering naked ladies into his home.

It hadn't been fully two months since he had returned to the usage of the house. So he could bet his teeth that nothing of such had ever happened.

How she had suspected the house he now lived in was still beyond him.

And the gates? Had he left it open? He started with an alarm. He peered through the peephole again but couldn't see beyond the nude figure.

Wasn't she afraid of someone catching her naked?

Yes, it might be a private apartment where only he lived in. It wasn't as private—public as their former shared apartment.

But she still would have been afraid of stumbling at the wrong apartment. Or had he been watched all this while.

His hands stilled as he tried to turn the knob. Was he doing the right thing? He wondered, fingers stiffening and stomach knotting.

There was so much about Sandra that he didn't know.

Then, it rang the third time and he had no choice but to grudgingly turn the knob.

Once the knob gave way, she pushed herself inside, into his body leaving the door wide. He was taken aback and he shifted. What was that for? He started in surprise

“Hi, sweetheart, miss me?” She spoke, sounding drunk, eyes rolling back and lips slouching.

But he smelled no alcohol in her breath. She wasn't drunk. Although she behaved like one, reeling from here to there, trying to claw her way to him.

He shifted backwards, eyeing her warily, disgust flying like bile to her throat.

Notwithstanding, she drew closer, sending her hands running down her body—her laps and stomach.

He had never understood her to be this shameless. It felt like her brain had evaporated.

“What are you here for, Sandra?” His tone was heavy with other things but lust. In the state she was, she could never arouse anything higher than a disgust from him.

And it was working.

He cringed his nose, eyeing her from the white of her eyes, wondering about the best method he would use to fling her out his house.

“Are you okay?” he spoke out after a long pause.

“David, stop pretending,” she rolled her eyes, taking a step further as he retreated. “I know you want this, and you know that too,” she bit her lower lip and drew closer, again, pointing to her standing nipples.

David's chest tightened with rage, his eyes feeling like they had been contaminated. Something must be done.

“You're…,” he stopped, heart beating hard with the entwining of former love and new hatred.

“Just take a look at this,” she trailed her fingers to her pussy!!!!

He could no longer have it. It was the most demeaning thing that he had seen in months. He looked away.

“Sandra, you're getting worse,” he began, swallowing the other words in.

“What happened to the cold, stubborn Sandra who handed the divorce mercilessly?” He said, an emotion twitching in his voice.

“Well, then, I needed a break. You know, you were a convict and so on,” she stood still, looking sternly at his turned neck and getting ready to turn it back to her.

“But now, I want you,” she began, a step forward to do it. But there was no need. He turned to regard her with dismay.

But she was far from caring. She wanted him and would get him against all odds.

“I want to taste your dick in my three lips,” she rolled her eyes, and sucked her lower lip.

“I want to feel your inches deep inside of me”.

David recoiled. Her last sentences had waved past him. So he was now a tool to be used and discarded?

To be wanted and then unwanted?

His mind was made up. The animal before him did not deserve any attention.

His heart boiled, chest compressing as much air as possible and fist tightening with the confusing rage that had tormented him for weeks.

“I don't want you. You're now a sorry whore before me,” his eyes blazed with a thousand fury flames and his lips trembled.

“You don't mean that, do you?” She replied, laughter edged in her voice. “I can see it in your eyes,” she waved it off with her hands.

Do you want this hot body? Take it”. She giggled, rolling her eyes at him. “Just take it. I'm handing it over to you on a platter”

“Get out, you piece of shit. Out!!” He thundered, his whole being vibrating with the command. She looked like a possessed demon.

And his heart, however much it had pined for her, could not succumb to such nonsense.

Her expression moved quickly from surprise to alarm and then to anger. “Take me now, while I'm right within your reach,” she spat bitterly, her standing nipples cowering to the atmosphere.

“Don't make me change my mind!!” Her chest rose. “You should be thankful that I'm even back to your broke ass,” the words splattered faster than he could hear.

“You know I rarely show interest in sex; that I never show my horniness. Don't make me retrace my steps” she spoke through gritted teeth, nose flaring and blowing out heat.

“Then keep hiding them,” he spat back with a trembling voice.

“You're obviously now on the streets. I don't deal with strippers like you,” he fired, moving boldly towards her.

“Now, leave, if you're done ranting!” He pointed to the door but stopped in tracks.

“Roseline?”