Craving My Sister’s Hot Husband

Choke On It

Seraphina

I can feel him getting close, the way his thighs tense, the way his breathing changes, the way his grip in my hair becomes almost possessive.

His other hand comes up to join the first, both fists tangling in my hair now, holding my head in place.

“Don’t you dare pull away,” he orders. “You’re going to take it. Every f*****g inch.”

Then his hips start to move.

He bucks up into my mouth, driving deeper, and I have to force myself to relax, to breathe through my nose, to let him use me exactly how he needs.

“f**k, f**k—” His control shatters completely. He’s thrusting up now, both hands gripping my hair, holding me steady as he f***s my mouth with wild, desperate movements. “Take it. Take all of it. That’s it, baby, just like that.”

Tears spring to my eyes as he drives deep, hitting the back of my throat with each thrust, but I don’t pull away. I let him take what he needs, let him chase his release, loving the way he’s completely lost to it.

“So f*****g good,” he groans, his rhythm getting erratic. “Your throat feels so good around my c**k. Gonna come—f**k, I’m gonna come down your throat.”

He shoves deep one final time, holding me there as he spills hot and thick directly down my throat. I swallow convulsively around him, taking everything he gives me, my eyes watering but never closing, never looking away from his face.

“Swallow it,” he commands through gritted teeth, even though I already am. “Every f*****g drop. That’s my good girl. My perfect f*****g girl.”

He stays buried deep for another moment, both of us breathing hard, before he finally releases my hair and gently pulls out of my mouth.

I gasp for air, my jaw aching, my throat raw, and I’ve never felt more thoroughly claimed in my life.

“Come here.” He hauls me up into his lap, and his kiss is bruising, possessive, tasting himself on my tongue. “You did so f*****g good for me, baby. So perfect. Took everything I gave you.”

His hands are gentle now, stroking my back, my hair, wiping the tears from my cheeks with his thumbs.

“You okay?” he asks, and there’s genuine concern beneath the dominance. “I didn’t hurt you?”

“No.” My voice comes out raspy, used. “That was perfect.”

“You’re perfect.” He kisses me again, softer this time. “Everything about you is perfect.”

I settle against his chest, feeling thoroughly satisfied even though he never touched me. There’s something powerful about reducing him to that—wild, desperate, completely undone. About being what he needs.

“Let me take care of you now,” he murmurs against my hair, his hand already sliding down to the hem of the shirt I’m wearing.

“No.” I catch his wrist. “This was for you. I wanted to.”

He pulls back to look at me, searching my face. “You sure?”

“Yes.” I curl back against him. “I just wanted to make you feel good. That’s all.”

His arms come around me, holding me close. “You always make me feel good. Everything about you makes me feel good.”

We stay like that while the movie plays on, forgotten. The fire crackles. Rain drums against the windows. And for a perfect, stolen moment, I let myself pretend this is my life.

That I’m not the mistress. Not the sister. Not the secret he has to hide.

Just the woman he loves.

Because I do love him. The realization settles over me with the weight of inevitability. I’m in love with Dominic Ashcroft—my sister’s husband, the man who’s supposed to be forbidden, the one person I should never have touched.

And I’m so completely f****d.

“What are you thinking?” His voice rumbles against my ear.

That I love you. That I want this to be real. That tomorrow is going to break my heart.

“That I wish we could stay here forever,” I say instead.

“Me too.” His arms tighten around me. “But we have tonight. All of tonight.”

“All of tonight,” I echo, and let myself sink into his warmth.

Tomorrow we’ll drive back to reality. Back to Elena and her new strength. Back to Adrian and his knowing eyes. Back to the lies and the sneaking and the guilt I should feel but don’t.

Tomorrow I’ll have to share him again.

But tonight, he’s mine.

And that has to be enough.

Even though I’m terrified it will never be enough again.

We stay on the couch until the fire burns low and the movie ends and another one starts. His hand strokes lazy patterns on my back. My fingers trace the line of his collarbone through his shirt. Neither of us speaks, but the silence is comfortable. Full.

Eventually, he shifts beneath me. “Bed,” he says simply. “Come on.”

He stands, lifting me with him like I weigh nothing, and carries me down the hall to the bedroom. The casual strength, the ease with which he moves me—it all makes me feel cherished in a way that has nothing to do with s*x.

He sets me down gently on the bed and climbs in beside me, pulling me against his chest. And despite everything we’ve done this weekend, this feels like the most intimate moment yet.

Just lying here. Holding each other. Pretending we have forever when we both know we only have hours.

“Sleep, baby,” he murmurs against my hair. “I’ve got you.”

And wrapped in his arms, listening to the steady beat of his heart, I let myself believe him.

Just for tonight.

I love you, I think but don’t say.

Because some truths are too dangerous to speak aloud.

Even here.

Even now.

Especially now.