Chapter 977: Wine Spiked With Aphrodisiac

Barry leaned back in his chair, swirling the whiskey in his glass as he launched into another story about his business ventures. His voice was smooth, confident, the kind of tone that made it clear he was used to being in control.

"You know, Jack, I’ve been thinking," he said, his eyes narrowing slightly as if weighing an idea. "A guy like you—sharp, connected—could be a real asset. Maybe we could start a new business. What do you say?"

I kept my expression neutral, but my telepathy picked up the unspoken addendum in his mind:

[Or at the very least, keep him close. A man with his skills could be useful...]

Across the room, Kate stood up from the couch, stretching her arms above her head in a way that made her blouse ride up just enough to tease.

"You two keep talking shop," she said, her voice dripping with playful indifference.

"I’ll get dinner started." She shot me a glance—just a flicker of her dark, heavy-lidded eyes—before turning toward the kitchen.

As she walked away, her hips swayed with deliberate exaggeration, the fabric of her skirt clinging to her thighs with every step. The way she moved wasn’t just walking; it was an invitation.

I shifted in my seat, my pulse quickening. Barry, oblivious, continued rambling about market trends, but my attention was glued to the kitchen doorway.

The clatter of pots and pans was punctuated by the occasional hum of Kate’s voice—she was singing something low, breathy, the kind of tune that made my imagination run wild.

Kate’s thoughts (telepathy):

[God, I hope he’s watching. The way his eyes followed me... I could feel them burning into my skin. Barry hasn’t touched me in months—just excuses, pills, and that pathetic look of defeat every time he fails.]

[But Jack? He’s different. I saw what he did to Jennifer. The way he took control, the way she moaned... I need that. I need to feel a real man inside me, stretching me, making me scream. And if Barry sees? Even better. Maybe it’ll light a fire under him. Or maybe... maybe I won’t even care.]

The scent of garlic and spices began to fill the air, but it was nothing compared to the intoxicating aroma of Kate’s perfume—something floral, musky, the kind of fragrance that lingered in the back of my throat.

My fingers twitched, itching to reach out, to pull her against me and see just how far she’d let this go.

Barry finally paused, rubbing his temples. "You know, Kate’s been acting strange lately. Distant. I think the stress of my work is getting to her."

I nearly laughed. If only he knew.

Kate’s thoughts (telepathy):

[Stress? Oh, Barry, you have no idea. The only stress I have is the ache between my legs, the way my body craves something you can’t give me. I’ve tried, God knows I’ve tried—toys, fantasies, even pretending it’s you when I touch myself. But it’s not enough. Not after seeing Jack. Not after imagining those hands on me, that mouth—]

A sharp clang from the kitchen cut off her thoughts. She let out a soft, frustrated sigh, her fingers gripping the countertop.

Kate reappeared in the doorway, her cheeks flushed from the heat of the stove—or maybe from something else. "Dinner’s ready, boys," she purred, her voice dropping an octave. "Hope you’re hungry."

We moved to the dining table, and as I sat down, Kate leaned over me to place a steaming dish on my plate. Her blouse gaped just enough to give me a perfect view of her cleavage, the swell of her breasts rising and falling with every breath.

The heat of her body radiated against my shoulder, and when she straightened, her fingers brushed against my neck—accidentally, of course.

"Here you go," she murmured, her lips dangerously close to my ear. "Extra serving for our guest."

I inhaled sharply. She smelled like sin—warm, sweet, with an undercurrent of something dark and hungry.

Kate’s thoughts (telepathy):

[Oh, he likes what he sees. I can tell. His pulse is racing, his fingers are clenched around the fork like he’s trying not to grab me. Good. Let him want me. Let him ache for it. The wine will do the rest... that little something extra I slipped in.]

[Just enough to make him dizzy, to make him need me. And when Barry walks in on us—when he sees his wife riding another man, moaning his name—maybe, just maybe, he’ll remember what it’s like to be a man.]

Barry, still clueless, reached for the wine bottle. "Kate, grab the glasses, will you?"

She didn’t move right away. Instead, she let her gaze linger on me, her tongue darting out to wet her lower lip. "Of course, darling," she said, her voice syrupy. "But I already poured Jack a glass." She nodded toward the crystal goblet in front of me, the deep red liquid catching the light.

I lifted it to my lips and took a slow sip. The wine was rich, velvety, with a strange, metallic tang beneath the oak. Kate’s eyes darkened as she watched me swallow.

Kate’s thoughts (telepathy):

[Yes, drink it. Let it work. Let it make you hot, make you desperate. I want you to lose control. I want you to take me right here on this table while Barry watches, helpless.]

[And when you’re deep inside me, when I’m clawing at your back and begging for more, I want him to see what a real man looks like. Maybe then he’ll stop making excuses. Maybe then he’ll finally fuck me like he used to.]

Barry poured himself a glass, oblivious to the storm brewing right in front of him. "To new partnerships," he said, raising his drink.

I smirked into my wine. "To new partnerships," I echoed, my voice low.

Kate’s fingers tightened around the back of her chair. The night was just beginning.

I let the last sip of wine linger on my tongue, swirling it like a promise before swallowing. My smirk never wavered as I set the glass down with a deliberate

clink

.

"To new partnerships,"

I repeated, my voice a dark, velvety growl that made Kate’s breath hitch. She shifted in her seat, her thighs pressing together under the table, but I didn’t miss the way her fingers twitched, as if she were already imagining them wrapped around my cock.

The air between us was thick enough to choke on—saturated with the scent of her perfume, something sweet and musky, like honey laced with sin. I could practically taste her arousal, sharp and tangy, like the first drop of pre-cum on my tongue.

Dinner was a blur of flavors I barely registered. My focus was on the way Kate’s tongue darted out to wet her lips every time she caught me staring, the way her blouse strained against her tits as she leaned forward to "accidentally" brush against me.

I took slow, measured sips of the wine, letting the liquid coat my throat while my mind replayed the filthy thoughts I’d plucked from her head earlier. She wants me to ruin her. And fuck, I was going to enjoy every second of it.