Scorned GF Fingered To Orgasm By Unfaithful Lover

So there I was, raw and shaking with that lesbian fingering orgasm still rippling through me, and I could barely look at him without my chest caving in from the sheer weight of everything we’d been through, the texts I’d found, the lies I’d swallowed, the way I’d thrown my bag on the floor and screamed at him to get out, but he didn’t leave, he just stood there with this broken look, and before I knew it his hands were on my shoulders, gentle but firm, and he was whispering that he was sorry, that he’d do anything, and I wanted to push him away but my body was already betraying me, my knees going weak as he guided me back onto the couch, and the way he touched my face, tracing my jawline like he was memorizing it, made me forget why I was so angry in the first place, and then his mouth was on my neck, soft and slow, and I could feel his breath hot against my skin while his hand slid down my stomach, teasing the waistband of my jeans, and I remember thinking this was wrong, that I should stop him, but the second his fingers slipped inside my underwear I just gasped and arched into him, and he took that as a sign, pulling me closer, working me with this desperate, apologetic rhythm, his thumb circling that sensitive spot until I was wet and trembling, and I grabbed his wrist, not to push him away but to hold him there, to keep him exactly where he was, and he looked at me with those sorry eyes and said “let me fix this,” and I just nodded, biting my lip as he pushed one finger in, then two, curling them just right, watching my face as he did it, and the room felt like it was closing in around us, all that anger melting into heat, and when he started stroking me faster, pressing deep and hitting that perfect angle, I felt that familiar pressure building low in my belly, and I whispered his name like a prayer, and he whispered back that he loved me, that he was sorry, and that’s what pushed me over the edge—that mix of betrayal and forgiveness turning into this blinding wave of pleasure, my back bowing off the couch as I came undone on his hand, moaning through it while he kept going until I had to beg him to stop, and afterward he just held me, my face buried in his chest, and I hated how good it felt to forgive him, but god, actions really do speak louder than words.