Chapter 6 THE HUNGER THAT HAUNTS

It started with a message.

"I still think about that night. Don't you?"Michelle.

Drake stared at the screen longer than he should have. His thumb hovered above the keyboard, but he said nothing. What could he say? That he hadn't stopped thinking about it? That he hadn't been able to make love to his wife since?

He hated that truth.

He hadn't meant to fall back into Michelle's arms. It just... happened. That night had been a blur of desire and regret.

Two weeks earlier.

They met in a café near Madison Avenue, away from the familiar streets where Beauty might be recognized. Drake had texted Michelle only to vent tell her how his marriage was on the rocks, how Beauty never wanted him anymore, how he felt like a man with a body full of fire and no one willing to feel the heat.

Michelle had leaned forward, eyes gleaming. "You were always the one who loved too hard."

"You knew that and still left me."

"I didn't leave, Drake. You chose her. The virgin church girl. But she could never do what I did for you."

Drake looked away, swallowing guilt and arousal.

Michelle leaned in, brushing her fingers across his knuckles. "You remember how I used to ride you until you begged me to stop?"

His breath hitched.

"Remember how I'd suck you so deep you forgot your name?"

"Michelle" he warned.

She smiled. "Come upstairs with me."

They barely made it through the hotel door before their clothes were on the floor. She dropped to her knees, lips wrapping around him like she'd waited years for this moment. Drake grunted, gripping her hair, letting out sounds he hadn't made in months.

Michelle didn't just have sex she worshipped him. Every stroke, every moan, every kiss was laced with possession.

Then she straddled him, lowering herself onto him inch by inch. Drake's hands flew to her waist, holding her like she might vanish.

They moved like animals urgent, wild, pent-up. And when he came inside her, it was with a cry of both release and shame.

Afterwards, she curled beside him, tracing his chest.

"I missed this," she whispered.

He didn't answer. Guilt already started dripping into his soul like acid.

"I'm still the only woman who gets you, Drake. Don't fight it."

---

Back home, Beauty stood in front of the mirror in silence.

She touched her own neck. The spot where Drake used to kiss her before heading to work. That hadn't happened in months.

She wore his favorite red nightgown tonight. She lit candles. Even cooked his favorite dinner.

He never came home.

Her hands clenched the counter. The room spun.

She wasn't stupid. She knew.

He'd found someone who gave him what she couldn't. Or wouldn't. Or hadn't understood how to.

She tried to be enough. She'd tried to give herself, even when she didn't feel ready. But it was never enough.

And now, the woman who saved herself for marriage was alone in her own bed, rejected by the man who once begged for her body.

---

Days later, Sam called Drake out for drinks.

"You look like hell," Sam commented, handing him a bottle.

Drake nodded. "I did something I shouldn't have."

Sam smirked. "Michelle?"

Drake looked up in surprise.

"Come on," Sam said. "You think I don't know when a man's been fed right? I saw it in your walk."

Drake didn't laugh.

"I have someone better," Sam said. "You need variety. Michelle knows your past. You need someone with no strings."

Drake frowned. "What are you talking about?"

Sam dialed a number. "Come over. Now."

Twenty minutes later, she walked in.

Tracy.

Dark skin, long legs, glossy lips, wearing a low cut black top that left little to the imagination.

Her eyes locked with Drake's instantly.

She smiled like a woman who already knew the ending.

"Drake, meet Tracy," Sam said. "She's... unforgettable."

Drake's heart pounded.

Tracy walked up slowly and extended a hand. "Heard you've been stressed."

Drake shook it. Her skin was warm, smooth.

Her voice, even warmer. "I relieve stress. Deeply."

She sat beside him, crossing her legs.

"I can do things your wife won't dream of," she whispered.

Drake should have walked away.

Instead, he let her touch his knee.

And everything inside him stirred.