Jose’s breath grew harsh, uneven, his body rigid with resistance one second and leaning into her the next. Jose’s resolve fractured. The soft sound she made—the way her body shivered against him—was more powerful than any prayer or reason. His hand flexed, pressing harder into her, his fingers rubbing over the wet fabric until she gasped.

His hand squeezed, fingers spreading, thumb brushing across sensitive skin until her knees almost gave way.

“Aline…” he groaned, warning himself more than her.

My husband doesn’t touch me. Doesn’t see me. But you—” She grabbed his hand again, shoving it up under her dress, against the slick heat of her bare pussy, no...