7 || Loving My Brother’s Wife (VII)

Denise is ignoring me. She has been for about a week or two. I lost count. Darius has been home, leaving me no chance to confront her. In my defense, the last time I tried to do that, she bolted out of the kitchen. At this point, I’m not sure I want to do it again. She’s acting like I’m the problem.

My stomach tightens in hunger and I force myself out of the bed. 

No one is home. But I throw on a shirt and a pair of clean shorts. I need a bath but that will come after brunch. Mentally, I sift through the requirements of a recent client as I head into the kitchen. If he doesn’t accept the new adjustments, then I might need to show up at the office later. Maybe the ear-chewing from my boss will get my head back in the game. 

There’s a steel pot and saucepan on the cooker. I remove the lid of the pot. Spaghetti. A reddish sauce is in the frying pan. I scoop some food into a plate, take out a carton of juice and drag a stool to the island to eat.

I haven’t been able to eat at the dining room since I caught Darius and Denise kissing there, his hand between her legs. He’s her husband but really? Making out with him the next day after she was rubbing her pussy against my leg? They could have been more subtle or used their fucking bedroom. But what do I know? 

At the sound of footsteps and a feminine voice, my head raises. The person laughs. Oh, no. 

Denise. I don’t want to talk to her. 

I grab my plate and jump to my feet the second she enters. She looks good in a blue top tucked into a pencil skirt that highlights her curves. In truth, my brother’s hot wife looks good in everything. 

Our eyes meet and I’m the first one to look away. Denise plugs the phone between her shoulder and ear. “Give me a second,” she murmurs to whoever is on the other end of the phone. “Yeah, just a minute. Stay on the line.” To me, she whispers, “Thank God you’re here. We need to talk.” 

Talk? No way. She holds up a finger for me to wait but I’m already leaving the kitchen, brunch abandoned. It might have taken a while but I now get the memo. My brother’s wife is off-limits.

In my room, I open the windows to let in natural light. I did the right thing, yeah? Nothing good will come out of a conversation with her. My fingers mess up my hair. I bang my head against the wall but nothing helps. Maybe I should have waited. What if she had something super important to tell me?  

I pace the length of my room. Fuck it. I need a long, cold bath. So far, cold baths have helped to quell all my dirty fantasies about Denise. With that thought in mind, I jump into the shower. 

Cold water jets down my body. I tug on my hair from the roots, welcoming the pain that travels down to every part of my tense body. This is better than hearing her moans and screams as Darius fucks her every night. He hasn’t hit her since his arrival or she has learned to be quiet. He has been attentive, buying her gifts and shit.

I’m reluctant to leave the comfort of the shower but I have to. I stand in front of the mirror, stare at my cock before tying a towel around my waist. I haven’t been with another woman since that night. Denise fucked me in the head badly. The only sound I want from any woman’s lips is my name chanted like a symphony. And that’s the problem. No one sounds like Denise. No one looks like her. 

Walking into my room, I stop at the vanity to uncap my body lotion. Smelling and looking good is one smooth way into a lady’s panties. Plus, It boosts your confidence. No one wants to fuck someone with body odour. 

Water runs down my temples and drips to my chest, creating more wet trails down my abs. I run the other towel over my hair to absorb the water, use the other to dry my body as well as I can. 

The door squeaks open. A full head of dark curls pokes inside. Denise’s brows furrow as she tries to find me. She catches my eyes and offers me a gorgeous smile. I don’t reciprocate the gesture. 

“David,” she says and enters inside without my permission. My dick greets her presence with a slight jerk. She leans on the door. “We need to talk, David. We can’t keep ignoring each other.” 

That’s quite rich coming from her. She has been doing the ignoring, I only played along. “I’m not ignoring you, ma.” My tone is as flat as my dick. Unwelcoming. “I  don’t have anything to say to you, Denise.” She winces at the use of her full name. I place one hand on my waist. “Leave.” 

Denise throws her hands up in the air. “Okay. I’m sorry, David.” My dick reacts again with a stir. Damn her. She walks further into the room. Bad idea. Her robe slips open and I see she’s wearing that skimpy nightwear. “I shouldn’t have treated you like that. But what would you have me do?” 

The same thing she did when her ‘awesome’ husband was home. Act like I didn’t exist. Cancel an outing we had planned months ago. Lie about being sick to avoid being in the same room with me only to hear her screaming Darius’s name as they fucked. I wouldn’t have her do anything. 

“Nothing.” My dick is fully awake now, reminding me of the thickness hidden by that nightie. One tug and I can see all of her. If her gaze falls below my waist, she might notice the indentation of my dick on my towel. A dick wants what it wants. I point to the door, “I need you to leave my room. Please go.” 

The damned woman crosses her arms over her chest, exposing her rack to my hungry eyes. No bra, just boobs. I clench my hands by my sides. The devil is working extra time but I won’t fall. 

“Leave now, Denise or I won’t be responsible for what happens next.”