Chapter 5

To sell my husband's things, I hosted a garage sale on the evening of Sunday, and it went better than I expected.

People came, went through the things I had to sell, and surprisingly, my husband's stuffs sold faster than I thought it would. Letting go had been harder than I imagined, yet with each item I sold, the weight on my chest loosened just a little bit.

Now everything had been sold out, everything except for my late husband's bike.

It leaned in the corner, polished, untouched, as if waiting for him to walk in and take it out for a ride. Many had asked about it, even touched it, but no one had bought it. My chest ached at the thought of selling it anyway. Maybe fate wanted me to keep this one thing, something to remind me of him every time I opened the garage.

I sighed, staring at the empty boxes, and the tables I would have to pack up. I felt like leaving it till tomorrow, but then again... tomorrow was Monday, and if I didn't tidy up the garage now, I would probably not do it in a month's time.

I immediately went to work, packing up the boxes and folding tables, and as I worked, a feeling I had gotten earlier rose up in me. During the garage sale I had this feeling that someone was watching me, but I didn't think anything of it, because well... I was surrounded by people.

I glanced over my shoulder, heart beat harder. The yard was empty. I was the only one in my garage and yard.

"Get a grip," I muttered under my breath, shaking off the chill. It was just nerves.

I shook off the feeling and continued with cleanup. Once I was done, I proceeded to shut the garage door.

The garage door rumbled shut with a metallic groan. And that's when I heard it. Footsteps... I turned around immediately, and I saw him, the stranger from the sex toy shop.

"How... what are you doing here?" My voice cracked even though I tried to sound calm, the words catching in my throat.

He didn't hurry. He walked toward me as though the entire world belonged to him, each step echoing in the garage until it felt like the sound came from inside my own head. His dark eyes traveled slowly over me, the weight of his gaze making my stomach clench.

"I'm interested in that bike." His head tilted toward it, his lips curving into a lazy grin. "And I'd also love to fuck the owner's wife too."

My throat tightened. How was it that just the mere word "fuck" was enough to get me tingling with want? My knees nearly buckled.

Ignoring the heat between my thighs, I responded calmly, "The bike is yours for three hundred."

His gaze narrowed, while he closed the distance in two steps, the heat of his body radiating against mine. His hand lifted, fingers grazing my cheek with the softest touch, a caress that felt more dangerous than a blow.

"Don't ignore me," he murmured, his voice low, coated with hunger. His lips hovered near my ear, his breath hot enough to make my skin prickle. "I thought we were past that."

I froze, my breathing sharp. He leaned in, his voice a whisper. "Or have you forgotten my cock already?"

My gaze fell to the floor. I couldn't meet his eyes. My chest rose and fell too quickly, my lips parting as the air grew thin.

His hand slipped beneath my shirt, and my airways tightened. He cupped my breast, the bra doing little to soften his touch. His thumb rolled over my peak, and I bit back a gasp.

"There's no way you could forget me or my cock that easily," he murmured, his eyes locked on me even as his thumb rubbed my tit through my bra.

My fist tightened, my breathing ragged.

"But if you did forget my cock," he moved his face lower to my chest, then he licked my hardened nipples through my shirt. "I never forgot your body."

My breasts swelled against the fabric, desperate to be freed, but he didn't give me that mercy. Instead, he pressed harder, his mouth covering my nipple, sucking greedily through the bra, through the shirt, until it was soaked with his spit.

"Fuck, your tits are perfect... so fucking big." He groaned into my chest.

I trembled, shame prickling hot at the back of my neck. My body betrayed me— arching into him, offering more. The wet fabric clung tighter, each drag of his tongue and teeth against the barrier sending jolts down to my pussy.

"Ohhh... ohhh God," I moaned helplessly, my eyes fluttering shut.

He groaned into my chest, the vibration rumbling against my aching tits. My nipples burned, stiff and tender, rubbing raw beneath the wet layers of cloth. He switched to the other side, his mouth covering my other breast, "I could suck this heavy tits forever." He rumbled, feasting on my swollen nipples.

I glanced at my husband's bike from the side, and it felt like he was there, watching, while I let a younger man hungrily take my breasts.

Every sound echoed in the closed garage—the soft suck of his mouth, the wet slap of his tongue, my broken gasps.

When he pulled back, both nipples stood sharp and throbbing, outlined against the spit-soaked fabric. He looked at them like a man starving.

His fingers slid behind me, quick and sure, and the clasp of my bra gave way. The straps slid down my arms, and in seconds the thin fabric was bunched under my shirt.

Then he bent, tugging my shirt upwards just enough to bare me, and his mouth latched onto my breast.

The heat of it made me jerk, a cry tumbling out of me before I could swallow it back. His lips sealed tight, his tongue swirling around my nipple, wetting it until the cool air made me shiver. He sucked hard, and the sound of it echoed in the closed garage.

"Oh—ohhh God," I gasped, my head falling back.

He wasn't gentle. His mouth devoured me, pulling hard as though he wanted to claim every inch of my breast.

I clutched at his shoulders, nails digging in, as I held onto him, my legs wobbling.

He shifted, cupping my other breast, his mouth closing over it in a slow suck while his fingers pinched and played with the other.

"Ahhh—ahhh—yes—ohhh," I cried, my hips bucking forward without thought, grinding into him as my body begged for more.

My moans grew higher, "Please... oh please," I whispered, my voice hoarse, begging without even knowing what for.

And still, he didn't stop. His mouth worshipped me like I was the only thing he needed to live, sucking and biting, his tongue flicking my nipples until I nearly screamed from the intensity.

His mouth finally left my tits, both of them swollen and wet, aching for more. I was shaking, gasping, my whole body trembling as though he had just fucked me raw— when all he had done was mouth-worship my tits.