Evelyn's Deception
Copyright© 2025 by Wtriplet
Chapter 3
Thriller Sex Story: Chapter 3 - Evelyn's Deception is a twisty erotic thriller that draws inspiration for the classic 90s genre as well as more contemporary films like Unfaithful and 365 days. Daniel is a young successful lawyer, Evelyn a femme fatale playing the role of his trophy wife. A home invasion throws their picture perfect life into chaos. As loyalties shift, and the tension builds, old secrets are exposed.
Caution: This Thriller Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Heterosexual Fiction Crime Mystery Cheating Masturbation Oral Sex
Present: Morning, Spring 2025
Evelyn moved around the home with her usual grace. Dressed in a white t-shirt and a pair of matching short white shorts, her hair was pulled into an efficient ponytail. Today, the quiet of the countryside felt a little heavier, her mind replaying the previous day’s events with a mix of exhilaration and unease.
She moved to the sink, rinsing a cloth, her thoughts drifting to the gym: Ryan’s chiseled jaw, his muscular frame, his nervous smirk as she teased him about private sessions. “I expect you to push me,” she’d said. She laughed to herself, thinking about how forward she had been.
Next, her mind turned to Lauren, her laughter echoing from the phone call. Lauren’s bold persona mirrored the wildness Evelyn had left behind—the birthday clubbing proposal, “Let’s hit the clubs, just us,” a temptation Evelyn knew spelled trouble. The memory of their past nights—dancing till dawn, the press of bodies, the rush of freedom—clashed with her current responsibilities, yet the idea tugged at her.
As she gathered her keys for a shopping trip, Mr. Richardson—or Dave—came to mind. His aggressive flirtation had stirred something dangerous and trouble-making. “Drop by the office anytime,” he’d said, his eyes tracing her figure, and she pondered whether to lead him on, to show up and see how far she could push. The power she’d felt as his wife looked across—the control Dave had over her to act however he wanted in front of her.
At the grocery store, pushing a cart through the aisles, her mind drifted to the night. After Daniel’s quick, unsatisfying climax, she’d slipped to the bathroom, the shower’s steam a veil for her secret. The memory threatened to spill over again, her body warming, as she stood in the produce section, a cucumber in hand, her mind lost in the sensation. She looked around, embarrassed, hoping no one had seen her moment of confusion.
Present: Afternoon, Spring 2025
Evelyn had been planning to sunbathe outside when there was an unexpected knock at the door. With a towel in her hand, she froze and looked toward the entrance.
A big man with a commanding presence stood on the porch. He was about 6’3”, his strong physique visible beneath his leather jacket. His dark eyes and dark beard framed his fierce face. He dripped with rough, scary charm with his short, ruffled brown hair. He stood defiantly, his eyes on the door as though he could sense her presence, holding a battered duffel bag.
“Who are you?” she called through the door, her voice firm, her hand resting on the lock, suspicion coiling in her chest.
“Marcus,” he replied, his voice deep and gravelly, carrying a hint of authority. “I’m here about a job—Daniel hired me for some work around the place. Said to check in today.”
Evelyn’s brow furrowed, her mind racing. Daniel hadn’t mentioned anyone, and the man’s imposing presence set her on edge. “I don’t know anything about that,” she said, her tone sharp. “You can’t come in. Return in a few hours when my husband’s home.”
Marcus’s eyes narrowed slightly, his intensity undimmed, but he nodded reluctantly. “I’ll be back around six.” He turned, his boots heavy on the porch steps, his figure retreating toward a motorcycle parked on the street, the duffel bag slung over his shoulder.
Evelyn watched through the peephole until he was out of sight, her heart pounding, her suspicion lingering. She locked the door, double-checking the bolt, her mind a whirl of questions. Who was he? Why hadn’t Daniel warned her? The encounter left her uneasy, as she looked down at the towel in her hand.
Present: Late Afternoon, Spring 2025
An hour later, sunbathing plans had been abandoned—the thought of going outside not sitting well with Evelyn—as she prepared for a shower. She moved through the living room, adjusting cushions, her thoughts drifting back to Marcus’s arrival. His rugged looks—those intense eyes, that scarred cheek—had stirred something inside her, a flicker of attraction she quickly suppressed, her suspicion outweighing any curiosity. She walked to the bedroom and through toward the bathroom, lifting the t-shirt over her head.
In the bathroom, the steam rose as she turned on the shower, the water hot against the tiles, the mirror fogging as she stepped under the spray. Her brunette hair darkened with water, clinging to her shoulders, her eyes closing as she let the heat soothe her tension. Her hands roamed her body, tracing the curves of her breasts, sliding down her hips, her fingers brushing her clit as the memory of the previous night’s self-pleasure surged.
Another knock at the door shocked her out of the moment, the sound cutting through the rush of the shower. Evelyn froze, her heart racing, the steam swirling around her.
Her anxiety rose as she turned off the water, dripping from her brunette hair, now darkened and clinging to her shoulders in wet strands. She stepped out and wrapped a white robe around her perfect figure, the fabric barely concealing her breasts. The knock came again, sharper this time, and she tightened the robe, her bare feet silent as she moved toward the front door, her mind racing with suspicion.
Peering through the peephole, she saw Marcus again, his imposing figure filling the porch. Parked, this time on the lawn, was the same black motorcycle, the sight sending a chill down her spine. His duffel bag was slung over his shoulder, but his posture was more aggressive now, his fist raised to knock again as she watched.
“Open the door,” Marcus called, his voice deep and gravelly, laced with a menacing edge. “I need to talk to Daniel—let me in to wait.”
Evelyn refused, her voice steady despite the fear coiling in her chest. “No. I told you to come back when my husband’s home. You can’t come in. Leave now, or I’ll call the police.”
A flicker of irritation crossed his face, but he stepped back. “Fine,” he growled, his tone grudging. “I’ll be back when he’s here.” He turned, his boots heavy on the steps, the motorcycle’s engine roaring to life as he mounted it, the sound fading into the distance, leaving an uneasy silence in its wake.
Evelyn checked the lock on the door again, her hands trembling as she turned and leaned against it, her mind a whirl of dread. She moved to the living room, her robe brushing the floor.
Barely ten minutes later, a deafening crash shattered the quiet, the sound of splintering wood coming from the back door. Evelyn rushed toward the kitchen. The sight that greeted her froze her in place: Marcus stood in the doorway, a pistol gripped in his right hand, its barrel pointed directly at her. “Shut the fuck up,” he barked.
Evelyn stopped still, her hands raising slightly instinctively, eyes wide with terror as she nodded, her voice stolen by fear. He gestured with the gun, motioning her back toward the living room. She stumbled forward, her robe slipping slightly, her mind racing for escape.
In the living room, he pushed her onto the beige sofa and produced a pair of handcuffs from his duffel bag, securing her wrists behind her back with a click that echoed in the silence. The metal rubbed against her flesh, her body trembling as she sat, her eyes fixed on the floor.
Marcus paced, his presence filling the room with a suffocating dominance. His crude comments cut through the tension. “So, while I’ve been locked up, Daniel’s been out here with a tight piece of ass like you,” his eyes raking over her, undressing her in his mind, lingering on the curve of her hips, the swell of her breasts beneath the robe. “I bet you fuck really good with an ass like that.”
Evelyn’s stomach churned, her reluctance to meet his gaze a shield against his violation. She mumbled, her voice barely audible, “You can just take whatever you want and leave. I have almost $300 in my purse—I can give you that. You can take whatever else you want—jewelry, please, just go.”
Marcus laughed, a harsh, guttural sound that sent a shiver down her spine. “But that wouldn’t be any fun, would it?!” he sneered, stepping closer, his gun still in hand, his breath hot with menace. “Plus, me and Daniel got some things we need to discuss. Just sit tight, sweetheart—Danny boy will be home soon, won’t he?!”
The wait stretched into an agonizing eternity. She remained largely silent, her eyes darting to the windows, searching for help that wouldn’t come. Marcus lounged in an armchair, his gun resting on his thigh, his crude remarks punctuating the silence. “Ol’ Danny boy, hey?! Wow,” a grin spreading across his face as he looked at Evelyn.
Present: Evening, Spring 2025
The front door opened and Daniel stepped inside. The home was unusually darkened, the curtains drawn, and he paused, his eyes narrowing behind his glasses as he called, “Evie?” His voice carried a hint of concern, his briefcase dangling from one hand.
Evelyn’s head snapped up, her fear breaking into a desperate yell. “Look out!” she cried, her body straining against the handcuffs.
Before Daniel could process her warning, Marcus surged from the side, his movements swift. He crossed the kitchen in three strides, the gun now holstered to his belt as he swung a fist, connecting with Daniel’s jaw with a sickening crack.
Daniel staggered, his briefcase clattering to the floor, his cry cut short as Marcus’s next blow landed in his stomach. “What the—!” Daniel gasped, his body doubling over, but Marcus was relentless, his fists a blur of violence, blood spraying from Daniel’s nose, his face swelling with each merciless strike.
Evelyn screamed, her voice hoarse, her eyes filled with tears as she watched, helpless, the sound of flesh against flesh a horrifying symphony.
Marcus dragged the shocked and battered Daniel by the arm, his strength overpowering, leading him to a spare bedroom down the hall. The room was sparse, with a double bed featuring thick wooden bedposts. Marcus shoved Daniel onto it and produced another set of handcuffs.
With a grunt, he secured Daniel’s wrist to the post, the metal clinking as it locked, Daniel’s breath ragged, his face a mask of blood and confusion. “Don’t fucking make a sound,” Marcus growled, pulling the gun from his belt and pushing it against Daniel’s head, before pushing him down on the mattress. He left him there, the door slamming shut behind him.
Returning to the living room, Marcus loomed over Evelyn, his eyes glinting with a cold promise. He leaned close, his breath hot against her ear. “Do what I say, and I’ll consider letting you live”. His words were a chilling ultimatum as Evelyn’s heart sank.
The living room was soon silent, the sofa where Evelyn sat a stark contrast to the panic on her face. Her hazel eyes were wide with fear, darting to Marcus as he loomed over her, his muscular, stocky frame controlling the space with menace.
Evelyn’s wrists were irritated by the handcuffs, the metal biting into her skin, but her voice trembled as she broke the silence. “What do you want with us?” she asked, her gaze flickering to the floor, avoiding his piercing stare.