Chapter 1
The night in Thornfield was alive with flashing neon lights as a sleek black GLS sped across the elevated highway. Inside the car, a track titled "The Life in Bloom" played on repeat. Edmund Thorne had a penchant for Eliza Wildwood's music, much to the amusement of his friend Amelia Hart, who often teased him about his outdated taste. Nevertheless, he remained unfazed, insisting he enjoyed her voice—seductive, with a hint of languid charm. As he spoke, his brows furrowed slightly, casting a sidelong glance at Amelia. She understood his meaning all too well. Amelia Hart and Edmund Thorne were both graduates of Avalon Academy. Their story began when Amelia entered as a freshman during Edmund's junior year. At the freshman welcome party, her eyes locked onto the dazzling figure center stage—the host, a guitarist, and the president of the student council. Edmund shone brighter than anyone else in the crowd. He had a knack for everything, including charm. He was the quintessential unattainable guy—handsome, athletic, and financially well-off. He often had girls blushing and approaching him, and he deftly handled their flirtations, skillfully bantering until they were a flurry of giggles. However, they all remained “friends,” as he liked to say. “This is how the game works,” Edmund had said to his closest buddy, Vincent Darrow, as they swam one day. "Why give up a whole forest for a single tree? Just let me be." Those words echoed from the first semester of his junior year, but in the second week of the following semester, before an audience of peers, he made a clichéd yet romantic declaration of love to Amelia, strumming that very same guitar. “Why do you like me?” she asked him in bed that night, her curiosity tugging at her. “Because you’re beautiful,” he replied, his gaze sweeping over her. Her skin was creamy and delicate, reminiscent of unblemished jade, the curve of her chest and slim waist igniting a primal heat within him. “Is that really all?” She felt a twinge of disappointment. “Beautiful enough that I could never stand the thought of anyone else having you.” He slipped off his jacket, revealing sculpted muscles, leaned down, and pecked her lips before presenting himself with a bold expression. “Isn't that enough?” Amelia later found it hard to recall their first night together; it had been anything but gentle. Edmund was far from tender, if anything, he was rough. He quickly bypassed foreplay and plunged straightforwardly into their shared experience, her body tight and unprepared. His thrusts were forceful, driving deep and unabashed, leaving her physically awakened. The experience wasn’t exquisite, but a phrase he uttered that night struck a chord deep within Amelia's heart. “When I first saw you, I thought that if I could be with you for a lifetime, I wouldn’t want anyone else.” True to his vow, Edmund hadn’t touched another woman since. The infamous playboy transformed into the model boyfriend, bringing Amelia along to social events, brushing off other girls' advances, and notifying her of his whereabouts whenever they were apart.
Chapter 2
In the secluded classroom during the holiday, and in the garden behind the school after class, Edmund Thorne released himself across Amelia Hart's curvaceous chest and the corners of her alluring lips. These events occurred long ago, yet each time they replay in his mind, it feels like it happened just yesterday. The years in between have been monotonous, lacking any memorable moments. After graduation, Edmund landed a job at Oldstone Consulting, boasting a handsome salary in a role that came with great expectations—so busy he barely had time to check his bank account. Amelia drifted through her college life before taking on a role in event planning at Hart Industries. That same year, she got married. Her wedding was a fairy-tale dream come true, adorned with a profusion of flowers, a nearby lawn, and a fountain, all celebrated by family and friends. Vincent Darrow, slightly tipsy, sobbed at the reception like an old heartbroken poet: “Edmund, you pledged to frolic in the flowers with Eliza, how the hell did you get married before me?” They moved into the same upscale apartment, with spacious terraces revealing the sparkling lights of Thornfield. They shared the same bed. Amelia counted silently. Eight years together, five of those married. Time had transformed her from an innocent coed into a strikingly beautiful young woman. Edmund had become a true elite in the city, yet their physical connection had grown increasingly mundane. Amelia recalled their last intimate moment at school—June's last day, just after a rain shower, the playground slick and glistening. Edmund pulled her behind a massive banyan tree, kissing her hungrily, then seized her face, taking her completely. The air was humid and sticky, the perfect breeding ground for desire. Amelia cried out for Edmund to slow down, but her body was practically exploding with need. She bit down on Edmund, the warmth of their mingled passion soaking her thighs and his pants. Later. Much later. On the day they moved into their new home, amid the chaos of unpacking on the sofa, they attempted to make love but found it awkward and unfulfilling. They retreated to their bed. The second time, the third time... from then on, intimacy became a routine affair in their soft, large bed—a web of warmth that felt more like a trap, while genuine closeness dwindled. Edmund always worked late, coming home after midnight, hurriedly taking a shower before collapsing into bed. Amelia barely had a chance to chat with him; when he was awake, she was asleep, and when she woke up, he was already gone. Any rare free time he had was spent at the gym or playing basketball with friends. Men need a release. A few times she found herself awake at night, hearing faint moans drifting from the living room, the flickering light hinting at indistinct actions, only to discover fresh crumpled papers in the trash the next day. They were just getting by, telling themselves that this was how most marriages were. But then the status quo was shattered. Three months ago, Edmund received another promotion. Not only did his salary increase, but suddenly he also found himself with more free time. The hours once consumed by work were now faced with Amelia, who remained stunning, each inch radiant, yet she no longer stirred his desire. “Why did we end up like this?” Amelia asked, half-drunk on their anniversary night. Edmund smiled weakly, “Like what?” Amelia yanked the silky fabric from her body, her skin still as beautiful as when they first met, glowing like ivory in the moonlight. But Edmund’s expression remained indifferent, paralleled by a complete lack of enthusiasm below. Amelia let her hands fall, squatting down with trembling hands obscuring her face. “Tastes change,” Edmund replied after a moment. “Eliza used to love soda, but as she grew older, she preferred tea and wine.” He stroked her hair gently. “But I can assure you that I still hold on to that original cup of soda.” “What do you prefer now?” Edmund paused, as if hesitant to answer. Amelia’s eyes were red, “I want to know.” “Something sexier… or let’s say wilder. I used to enjoy that feeling of conquest; sweet, tearful girls were so charming. Now, I suddenly find myself drawn to something more untamed.” Amelia turned her face towards him, catching sights of a focused Edmund, his eyes narrowed, lost in thought. Despite the warm spring breeze on the terrace, Amelia felt a chill run through her. Edmund chuckled softly. “Forget it. Don’t take it to heart. We'll figure it out.” “What are you thinking about?” Edmund’s voice broke into her reverie. Amelia snapped back to reality, her voice dry, “How much longer?” “Just two traffic lights away,” he said, his tone flat, but his fingers drummed excitedly against the steering wheel, his eagerness evident. Amelia bit her lip, “You still haven’t told me—what does he look like?” “About your height, a little darker-skinned, works out a lot, nice butt…” Edmund began to describe until he caught her expression, realizing where the confusion lay. “You mean the doctor?” Amelia turned to gaze out the window. “Don’t worry; I won’t hand my lover over to some nobody,” Edmund said with a tinge of guilt. “You’ll see when we get there.”
Chapter 3
When Edmund Thorne brought up the idea of "wife swapping," he never expected Amelia Hart to agree. He knew his wife well; with a stunning figure and captivating beauty, she had a gentle, nurturing disposition. The wildest thing she had ever done in their life together was frolic with him in passion, always shy and soft-spoken, her climax punctuated by a bashful flush on her cheeks. So when Amelia Hart said, "Let’s give it a try," Edmund was taken aback, his astonishment overshadowing any joy he might have felt. While Amelia was undeniably enchanting, even the most luxurious of delicacies can grow tiresome; he craved something different. He longed for the thrill of a new experience, perhaps someone like Katherine Blanchard. Edmund first met Katherine's husband, Alaric Stone, at a friend’s gathering. Alaric worked at the renowned Thornfield Private Hospital and was rumored to have significant stakes in it and connections to a number of influential companies. He commanded attention at the dinner party. Despite Edmund’s inflated sense of self, he couldn't deny that Alaric was striking—a bookish yet strong man, with an impressive height and a physique that revealed itself just right when he was at ease. After several more meetings, however, Alaric seemed reluctant to engage in socializing; he struck as the kind of person disinterested in making friends, which kept Edmund from pursuing a deeper connection. One evening at Brightwater Inn, while enjoying a drink and letting the alcohol lift his spirits, Edmund stepped outside for some fresh air and spotted Katherine Blanchard waiting to pick up her husband. He wasn't accustomed to the type of woman who radiated confidence like Katherine. She was behind the wheel of an SUV, dressed in fitted athletic gear and sneakers, her honey-toned skin taut against her contoured curves. As she exited her vehicle, Edmund caught sight of her deep neckline and felt instantly entranced. Katherine sauntered over, unabashedly tapping him on the shoulder. “Hey there, handsome. Got a smoke?” Still under the haze of his drink and charmed by her playful demeanor, Edmund suddenly regretted never picking up the habit. “What's your poison? I can grab you a pack,” he offered. “Nah, I’m good,” Katherine replied, her eyes sparkling. “I’m just waiting for someone. Should be down any minute.” Almost instantaneously, Alaric appeared at the entrance. He spotted Katherine and Edmund standing closely together and raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh, you two know each other?” The evening had been a heavy one for Alaric, as he indulged in drinks to celebrate a new investment project tied to him. Seeking a quick escape, he nudged Katherine to join him, groaning slightly as he rubbed his temples. “Let’s catch up another time, yeah? I need to head home.” Katherine, still bubbly, playfully tugged at Edmund. “Come on, help a girl out.” Her fingers brushed against his arm, and it sent a shiver through him, leaving him somewhat entranced by her allure. That night, instead of rushing to bed after his shower as usual, Edmund found himself sitting in his home office, replaying scenes of Katherine’s figure outlined in her snug black clothing. He couldn't shake thoughts of her ample curves and the enchanting way she smiled.
Chapter 4
After venting his frustrations, Edmund Thorne couldn't help but resent his choices. Back in school, he had plenty of chances with women, but how had he never crossed paths with someone like Katherine Blanchard? Damn it, marrying too early had its drawbacks. Sure, Amelia Hart was attractive—great body, lovely face—and sex with her was decent enough. But it didn’t excite him anymore. During their intimate moments, he often found himself fantasizing about Katherine, imagining her playfully licking him and begging for more, her sultry eyes pleading for him to take her hard. Reality snapped back as he looked down at Amelia. She was fine, no doubt, but woefully lacking in the kind of uninhibited talk and wildness he craved. It bored him after a while. His interest in Katherine naturally led him to pay more attention to Alaric Stone. They often found themselves at the same dinners, vacationing together, sneaking in questions about Katherine whenever they could. One night, amidst drinks and laughter, Alaric teased him, “You’ve seen Katherine Blanchard once, and yet you care about her more than me. Is she that captivating?” Edmund's heart raced at the mention of Katherine. Glancing at Alaric, he saw the drunken haze in his eyes. “Maybe you’re right,” he chuckled, fueled by the alcohol. “With a beauty like that at home, I’d hardly leave for a night out.” “Oh?” Alaric said, taking off his glasses, casually pulling out a cigarette. “Don’t you have a pretty wife?” “Every beauty is unique,” Edmund replied, smirking. “My wife is just... shyer.” “Everyone has their flavor,” Alaric said with an intentional smile. “So, why not try a different taste now and then?” Edmund froze for a second, but Alaric was already lifting his glass, clinking it lightly against Edmund's as if sealing a secret. “This is the place,” Edmund declared as he parked the car neatly outside Morton Manor. It looked like a lavish spa retreat, rumored to have natural hot springs. The hotel’s design was classic European, with Japanese-style gardens and bathhouses blending seamlessly, exuding comfort. Amelia followed him out of the car, taking her time. She watched Edmund stride ahead, his excitement palpable, while an odd feeling churned within her. She hadn’t pictured herself sleeping with another man. The only reason she might’ve agreed was that article on “swinging to reignite the spark in marriage” she had read on her phone. “What’s wrong?” Edmund asked, noticing her hesitation and reaching back to take her hand. He had dressed her in a soft, flattering silk dress that hugged her curves, topped with a beige cashmere coat. Once they stepped inside and she removed her coat, she would be completely revealed. He knew Amelia wasn’t thrilled about this game, but perhaps compliments from a stranger would give her the confidence boost she needed. After all, after eight years together, her heart couldn’t possibly hold affection for anyone else. They approached the front desk and checked in. The staff handed them different wristbands, indicating they'd be separated for the day. One went left, the other right. “Maybe we should just forget this,” Amelia said tightly, clutching his sleeve. Edmund halted. He towered over her, wrapped in a tailored coat held together by buttons she had fastened herself, which would soon be undone by another woman. He wondered what she would look like, how intoxicating her allure might be. Suddenly, regret washed over Amelia, especially since she had refused to look at any photos of the women he could be meeting. “Don’t worry,” he said, wrapping her in his arms and placing a soft kiss on her forehead. “It’ll be fine.” Understanding her habits well, he watched as she instinctively fished her phone from her coat pocket, sticking it in her palm securely. “Just meet her first. If it doesn’t feel right, call me, and I’ll come get you,” he said softly, his voice holding an almost pleading tone that was rare for them. “Okay?” Amelia merely nodded, unable to voice her concerns. “You look incredible,” he reassured her, “trust me, Alaric Stone will be crazy about you, babe.”
Chapter 5
Amelia Hart nervously pushed open the door to the Noble Suite at the Brightwater Inn. The spacious room was infused with a faint scent of cologne, and the lights were dimmed, with only a few alluring lamps casting a soft glow, enough for her to discern the lavish furnishings. “Is anyone here?” Amelia called out, but there was no response. She wandered from room to room, noting the intricate glass designs and the excessive number of mirrors—three just in the bedroom, including one on the ceiling and two on the walls. It was clear this room was meant for romantic encounters. The thought of being here, moments away from intimacy with a stranger, made Amelia's cheeks flush. Assured she was alone, she sank into the settee, anxiously watching the clock tick towards 8 PM. She had been waiting for what felt like an eternity. In an effort to distract herself, she flicked on the TV, but after flipping through every channel twice, she found nothing but noise and turned it off in frustration. Getting up, she grabbed a bottle of wine from the bar and poured herself a glass, gulping it down without much thought. Amelia wasn't a heavy drinker; a little alcohol usually made her tipsy. However, perhaps due to the weight of her thoughts that day, one glass left her cheeks flushed while her mind remained clear. It was already 8:20 PM. What was Edmund Thorne doing now? His date hadn’t arrived either. A flicker of hope surged through her but dissipated quickly—Edmund valued his time above all else. If the woman he had invited wasn’t here, he would certainly be on the phone. They had to be together by now. Edmund was used to being seduced by women; Amelia didn’t know how to arouse his interest. He came too quickly, and by the time he was through, she often still felt dry, leading to discomfort afterward. This left her somewhat frightened of intimacy at times. Were Edmund and that woman experiencing the same thing? The thought made Amelia uneasy. She found herself unexpectedly weak. She could not envision Edmund with another woman; all her mind could recall was their first time together—his brow beaded with sweat, his gaze fixated on her as he murmured, “I never want to touch another woman.” His voice had been husky and alluring. What a beautiful memory. But the reality was drastically different. The man who made her feel special pushed her into the hands of another, all while reminding her to look charming and gentle, offering her as if she were a gift. Meanwhile, he was in the other room, immersed in passion with a curvy stranger. Amelia almost thought she could hear the creaking of the mattress, the unmistakable sound of them entwined. She swirled her glass, having downed more than half the bottle already, and it wasn't even 8:30 PM yet. Undeterred, she poured herself another glass, thinking that if she drank enough to get drunk, the thought of her painful predicament would seem more bearable. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Jumping to her feet, Amelia felt warm from the wine, and she suddenly couldn’t remember where she had tossed her coat. Now, she was only dressed in a snug silk dress that barely concealed her curves. The low neckline left too much exposed, spilling slightly over. Above, her delicate collarbones contrasted with the gentle curves of her waist and bottom, creating a figure that was both slender and voluptuous. The wine had also flushed her skin a light pink, bringing out a rarely seen sultriness in her eyes. When Alaric Stone stepped inside, this was the sight that greeted him. “Starting without me?” he chuckled. Alaric was not what Amelia had imagined. She had assumed that a man who would scheme something as bold as a wife swap would be lecherous and uncouth. Yet Alaric merely glanced at her, taking in her form before turning toward the bar. Feeling an unexplained surge of bravery, she followed him. “You must be Alaric Stone,” she said. Alaric skillfully retrieved two tall glasses and a decanter, deftly opening a bottle of wine. “Did your husband arrange for another man to join you tonight?” Amelia could only shake her head. “You’re late.” He looked up, a knowing smirk on his face. “I think you were just too eager.”
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