Chapter 3 : Playing with Brother’s Fire

Hearing his formal tone right after what had just happened in this very room felt surreal. My eyes drifted to the spot by the dressing table where his brother had stood naked just moments ago. A sudden coldness settled over me.

"Everything is fine," I said shortly, my voice flat.

"You sound distant," Walton noted, though there was no real worry in his voice, just a mild observation. "Is the staff taking care of everything?"

"Yes, Walton. Look, I have a really bad headache right now," I lied, gripping the edge of the mattress. "I was actually just about to go back to sleep."

"Oh. Right. Well, take some medicine. I’ll try to call you later this week."

"Okay. Bye."

I hung up before he could even reply, tossing the phone back onto the bed. A heavy sigh escaped my lips. Four months of marriage, and that was all we had. A cold, distant conversation across the ocean.

Trying to calm my racing thoughts, I stood up and walked back into the bathroom. The water Charles had used was still sitting in the tub, a frustrating reminder of his invasion. I drained it completely, watching it disappear, and turned the taps back on to fill the tub with fresh, hot water just for myself.

Once it was full, I let the green gown slip from my shoulders and stepped into the steam, sinking down until it covered my chest.

The heat enveloped my skin, but it couldn't wash away the image burned into my mind. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Charles standing there. The raw, heavy build of his body. The sheer size of his dick. A sudden, dizzying rush of heat spread between my thighs, making my breath hitch.

My hand moved almost on its own, sliding down beneath the warm water. I brushed against myself, and a sharp gasp escaped my lips. I was so incredibly sensitive. I tried to think of Walton, to force myself to be a good wife, but my mind instantly rejected him. Instead, it was Charles's deep whisper that echoed in my head: You can touch it if you want.

I began to move my fingers, imagining his heavy frame pinning me down just like in my dream, his hard cock finally filling the empty, aching void inside me. The guilt was suffocating, tearing at my conscience, but the intense craving was too powerful to stop. I arched my back, moaning out softly into the empty bathroom as a fierce, trembling release crashed over me.

An hour later, I forced myself to go downstairs for breakfast. I had dressed in a simple, high-necked outfit, trying to feel presentable, but my knees still felt slightly weak.

As I walked into the dining room, the clinking of silverware made me freeze. Charles was already sitting at the long table, fully dressed in a crisp suit, looking completely normal. Two servants were moving quietly in the background, pouring fresh juice and setting down plates.

"Good morning, Isabela," he said smoothly, his tone perfectly polite, as if nothing had happened. "I hope you slept well."

"Morning," I murmured, keeping my eyes down as I took a seat across from him. My heart was hammering against my ribs all over again.

He didn't say anything provocative out loud. He played the part of the respectful brother-in-law perfectly in front of the staff. But the moment the maid turned her back to fetch more toast, I felt his gaze shift. I looked up, and he slipped me a slow, knowing glance, his eyes dropping to my lips before locking back onto mine.