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No. This isn’t right. It belongsinher.
“Argh,” I roar as a hot stream of come explodes out of me, probably spattering the shower wall. It comes out so strong. I don’t open my eyes. I’m squirting all over her tits.
My woman reaches up, rubbing the come over her large breasts, making them glisten as wave after wave of hot come spatters her. At the end, she toys with her nipples, making them shine too.
Once it’s over, I collapse against the shower wall, panting with the release.
I am getting hard again already. It’s as if I have to correct the mistake. I have to fuck her deep, savagely, and possessively, firing every drop into her core.
I quickly wash myself, wondering if I can rub away the shame.
Even if Adam wouldn’t try to kill me, Harper is almost twenty years younger than me. The truth is, her age makes me want her more.
She’ll be able to give me more children, and something is intoxicating about the innocent way she whimpered in the car when I touched her, but I doubt she’d feel the same. That’s all I care about. Not what the world thinks. Whatshethinks.
But none of it matters. I can’t act on any of it.
After toweling off, I see I’ve got a text from Adam.
Hey, bro. Would you be able to hang around for a while? Maybe a couple of weeks? I know it’s a big ask, but I need help with some work stuff, and I trust you more than anyone.
I sit on the bed in my towel, my cock aching from what I just did, reading that last line over and over.
CHAPTERFIVE
Harper
When Tiffany gets home from her shift at the laundromat, I tell her what happened.
“I feel bad for sharing it now after the funeral. But it’s like… if I don’t say it, it never happened. And now I’m wondering if it happened at all.”
We sit in the living room, paperback books on the glass coffee table, the TV off. Tiffany decorated the place with artistic wall hangings and furniture covers, and it looks cool, like a college dorm, though I never wanted to go to college.
I wanted to learn on the job, to make my own way, like Adam did.
My brother—the man I think about betraying every time I imagine me and Bryson.
Tiffany gapes at me.
We met in high school and have been best friends ever since. She dresses in an artsy way and loves to pull her hair up into complicated weaves.
When she gestures, her billowing sleeves shift around.
“So, he just grabbed your leg?”
“Yeah,” I murmur. “And then stared at me. Before I knew it, it was over.”
“I don’t think you imagined it. It’s not like you’ve got a history of having hyper-realistic visions, is it? It happened.”
I squeeze my hands together tightly. Even now, hours later, I’m still reliving the moment, playing it in slow motion, the way he leaned across, the closeness of his face, leaning away…
Then his hand claimed my thigh, squeezing harder as I let out one moan and then another.
“He was staring at me like he wanted to go all the way,” I murmur.
“Which is what you want.”
“It’s different now if it’s an option. I don’t know anything about his dating life. What if he does this all the time, touches younger women, sleeps with them, then moves on? I don’t think I could handle that. And there’s Adam… we can’t do that to Adam.”
