Page 3 of All That She Needs

Yet, despite the power she wielded in her professional life, Asha was a different person at home. She was a devoted mother and wife, and in our private life, she was surprisingly completely submissive to me. For those who didn't know us well, this dynamic might have been hard to believe.

Especially with sex. She would kneel at my feet and pleasure me, prioritizing my needs instead of her own. I would tie her up in our bed or spank her ass until it was red and purple, and she couldn't sit up straight for days. I would force myself into her mouth and hold her head there long enough until she tapped my thighs so that I would let her breathe. I would punish her for not obeying something that I asked her for, and I denied her pleasure for days while she served me compliantly every time I wanted it.

She loved being submissive. I could see that in the way she responded. And I loved giving it to her. But after years, especially after we had Chloe, she changed. Her submission sometimes felt strained, almost as if it was too much. There were moments when it seemed like I was forcing her, not because she resisted, but because her passion didn't burn as fiercely as mine. It was as if she was doing it out of obligation, fulfilling a roleas my wife rather than truly wanting me in the same unbidden, scorching way I wanted her. After many years, our lovemaking became dull. Unexciting. Monotonous.

Then suddenly, there was no fire anymore.

We had been married for eighteen years, together for twenty. Before Asha, there had only been one other girl in my life, a girl that I dated for six weeks—until Vanessa came along. But for Asha, as far as I knew, I was the only man she had ever been with. Maybe it was natural for the fire in our relationship to wane after so many years. But for me, that wasn't the case. The pent-up, blazing desire inside me still burned fiercely, desperate to be released. It was a fire that refused to die. Stubbornly and vigorously living inside my chest, inside my head.

And it was that fire, that relentless desire, that Vanessa came into my life to fulfill. She reignited a spark in me I thought was long gone. She became the outlet for the passion that still raged inside me, that I didn't realize I still craved, but couldn't find at home.

My mind kept replaying the last time I was with Vanessa. It went over and over in my head, and it consumed me so much that I could not focus on anything else that went on around me. It was the time when we rented a small cabin by the woods, private and secluded, disconnecting us from the rest of the world. We spent two nights and three days there and practically never left the cabin. The entire time, she wore the threadbare oversized shirt that she used to wear to bed and nothing else, taunting me relentlessly with the way the thin, soft fabric molded her bare breasts, her pebbled nipples poked through, begging to be pinched.

My hands could not stop touching her at every opportunity. I grabbed her when she walked past by me to squeeze her plump ass, massage her breasts, or bite thehardened pebbles over the fabric. She squealed and laughed, trying to push me away, but it only made me come back for more and more and more. I held her from behind when she was cooking, kissing her shoulders, her neck. My hands roamed around her front, under her shirt, until we were both consumed with overwhelming need and couldn't hold back any longer. Dinner was simply forgotten. I pushed my boxers down, plunging myself into her warm, tight hole. She was already drenched and ready for me. She was always ready for me.

We were in the living room, slouched side by side on the couch, while the daylight was still streaming in. She was watching a Netflix movie on the big screen while I was busy devouring her, slipping my hand inside her shirt and caressing her soft skin fervently. I kissed her, licked her and nibbled her nonstop like I was on a mission. I slid my hands in between her legs and began to rub while languidly sucking her succulent nipple, earning her adorable scowl for ruining her concentration entirely. Not long after, her scowl morphed into a lustful expression and her shameless moaning echoed around the room. My mouth joined my hand, and I savored the best fucking taste I ever had in my life.

At night, when we were in bed, we talked and kissed for a long time. Our kisses were slow but filled with deep passion, treasuring every moment, knowing that this was short-lived and we were temporarily living in a dream. I whispered to her, "I love you, Vee. My heart is bursting with my love for you. All I can see is you." And I begged her. "Promise me you'll always stay with me." Then, I would take my time worshiping every inch of her, making sure that she screamed my name again and again.

Two days after we came back to the real world, she told me she was leaving me.

Asha stirred in her sleep, rolling to her side until she faced me. Sensing my presence in the room, her eyes fluttered open, fighting the haze from sleep as she found me sitting there, watching her. Those green eyes, the most mesmerizing I had ever seen, widened as she took sight of me. "You're back," she rasped sleepily, rubbing her eyes. "What time is it?"

"Just a little after 2," I replied softly.

She lifted her head, propping it on her folded forearm as she squinted in the dim light. "Where were you?"

"At a bar," I said, truthfully. I had promised myself that I would never lie to her again. I just needed to figure out how to not do anything that would make it hard for me, to be honest again.

"With whom?" she asked, frowning.

"Alone."

"Not even with Roy?"

I shook my head. Roy was my driver, and he was usually by my side when I was out of home or out of the office. "He waited outside." I wanted to wallow in my misery alone. Even though Roy knew about my affair, as he was the one who drove me to Vanessa's apartment back and forth, and he knew perfectly well how it destroyed me when she left, I still didn't want him to see me falling apart like that.

"Why were you at a bar?" she asked, frowning, and I wondered if she was thinking I was with another woman. But she didn't say it. She never confronted me.

"I needed a drink. Or two. Or three," I said, a bitter chuckle escaping me. I was sober now, but I wished that I still felt the numbness from the six glasses of whiskey I consumed earlier.

"Something wrong?"

"No," I said, shaking my head slowly. My nerves gradually eased as I looked at her. She had a way of calming my perpetually anxious mind. "Not anymore."

"Okay," she said, her voice soft but laced with doubt. I could tell she wasn't entirely convinced by my response.

We stared at each other in silence as I admired her beauty. Her eyes, even filled with worry, couldn't hide the boundless love she had for me. I was reminded once again of how I truly didn't deserve her.

"Come here," I whispered. My voice was gentle as it floated through the room. She heard me clearly, and without hesitation, regardless of how disoriented she still was, she rose from the bed. Her hair was a ruffled mess, her black satin nightgown flowed gracefully over her perfect figure, the color a beautiful contrast to her pale skin. She moved towards me like a serene vision, a silhouette of a goddess.

When she reached me, I gently guided her to sit on my lap. Her hands rested lightly on my chest; her eyes locked onto mine. "What's wrong, Aiden?"

I shook my head. "Nothing is wrong, now that I see you."

"Are you drunk?" she asked, her eyes narrowing as she searched my face for any sign of intoxication. "You reeked of alcohol."

I wrapped my arms around her slim waist, holding her tightly, perhaps too tightly, as if she might slip away if I didn't. Then I buried my face in the curve of her neck, breathing in her familiar scent. She stroked my back gently, her touch soothing as I pulled her even closer. I held on to her with desperate strength, hoping—God, how I was hoping—that she could somehow cure the pain that was tearing me apart.

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