A Taste Of Sin

DOMINIC

I can still taste her pussy juice on my tongue.

That’s the first thought that hits me as I stand at the stove, stirring marinara sauce like a good husband. Like a man who didn’t just have his face buried between his wife’s twenty-one-year-old sister’s legs couple of hours ago.

Could she be sleeping now or will she join us for dinner? My mind races. I want to be near her every fucking time

My cock is still half-hard. Has been since Elena’s voice shattered the moment and I had to pull away from Seraphina, leave her trembling and unfinished on the counter where I’m supposed to prepare family meals.

I scrubbed my mouth raw afterward. Used mouthwash until my gums bled. But I can still taste her—that sweet, addictive taste that’s nothing like anything I’ve ever had before. Nothing like Elena. Nothing like any woman who came before.

Seraphina tastes like sin. Like everything I shouldn’t want but can’t stop craving.

My cock twitches just thinking about it.

“That smells amazing, baby,” Elena says from the table behind me.

Baby. She calls me baby like I’m a good man. Like I deserve endearments and trust.

I don’t deserve any of it. Because all I can think about is how Seraphina called me daddy while I finger-fucked her. How her voice went breathy and desperate when she begged me to let her come.

“Almost ready,” I say, and my voice sounds normal even though inside I’m falling apart.

Footsteps on the stairs.

My entire body goes tight. I don’t need to turn around to know it’s her. I can feel Seraphina’s presence like a physical thing, like the air changes when she’s near.

At first, I thought it was just guilt. Just my conscience screaming at me for noticing my wife’s sister. For cataloging the way her body changed as she grew from nineteen to twenty-one.

But it’s more than that. Seraphina has an effect on me that no woman ever has. She walks into a room and my cock gets hard. She says my name and I want to bend her over the nearest surface and fuck her raw. She looks at me with those eyes and I forget every fucking reason why I shouldn’t.

“There you are!” Elena’s voice is bright with hope. “I was looking everywhere. Dominic said you went for a walk?”

“Just needed some air,” Seraphina says, her voice sliding over me like silk.”but I’ve been back and in my bedroom for a couple of minutes.”

I turn around and force myself to look at them sitting together.

Seraphina’s blonde hair falls in waves past her shoulders. Her face is delicate—heart-shaped with high cheekbones and full lips that were wrapped around my fingers hours ago. And those eyes. Hazel. More gold than green in this light. They’re locked on me right now with an intensity that makes my cock throb.

She’s wearing a yellow sundress, simple and innocent-looking, but I know what’s underneath. Those breasts—full and perfect, the kind that overflow in my hands. I can see the outline of them through her dress, see her nipples pressing against the fabric. And that ass. Sweet Jesus, that ass. Round and curvy, the kind that could bring any man to his knees. I’ve gripped it while I fucked her, watched it bounce, left handprints on the pale skin.

My cock is fully hard now, straining against my slacks.

“I made pasta,” I manage, bringing plates to the table. “Your favorite, Seraphina.”

“Thats so sweet of you.” She says, a soft innocent smile playing on her face. “Thank you.”

I sit down across from her. Mistake. Now I have to watch her eat, have to see that tongue dart out to lick sauce from her bottom lip and remember what that tongue felt like on my cock.

“This looks amazing,” Elena says, taking a bite. Her smile is genuine, full of hope. “I actually have an appetite for the first time in weeks.”

I watch my wife enjoy the meal I made, and listen to her talk about feeling better, about the future. She’s so trusting. So grateful. So completely unaware that the man sitting across from her is imagining fucking her sister.

Part of me—the worst part—catches myself wondering what if Elena doesn’t make it? What if the treatment fails? What if she just slips away peacefully and leaves me free to have Seraphina without guilt, without sneaking?

The thought makes me sick. But it doesn’t stop me from thinking it.

“I was thinking,” Elena says, reaching across to take my hand. “Maybe we should plan a trip when I’m better. Somewhere warm. The three of us.”

The three of us. All I can picture is Seraphina in a bikini, that body on display while I have to pretend I’m not dying to touch her.

“That sounds wonderful,” Seraphina says, and her eyes meet mine across the table. There’s a challenge there. A promise.

“We could go to the coast,” Elena continues, her voice full of excitement. “Or that place in Napa we talked about?”

“Anywhere you want,” I say to Elena, but I’m looking at Seraphina.

Her tongue darts out again, slow and deliberate, licking her bottom lip.

My cock jerks in my pants.

“I want to do normal things again,” Elena says, and her voice cracks slightly. “Happy things. Not just doctors and medication and fear.”

The vulnerability in her voice cuts through my lust for just a moment. This is my wife. The woman I promised to love and protect. The woman who’s fighting for her life while I’m fantasizing about her sister.

“We will,” I promise, squeezing her hand. “I swear we will.”

“Actually,” she says, brightening, “I’m feeling good enough that we should celebrate properly.”

She stands and comes to me, cupping my face in her hands. Her touch is gentle, loving. Everything I don’t deserve.

“I love you,” she says. “Thank you for being exactly who you are.”

The irony would be funny if it wasn’t so devastating.

Then she kisses me. And all I can think about is how this mouth was just between Seraphina’s legs, how I’m kissing my wife with lips that tasted her sister’s cunt.

Over Elena’s shoulder, I see Seraphina watching. Those hazel eyes are dark now, burning with jealousy.

She wants this. Wants to be the one I claim openly.

My cock throbs despite the guilt choking me.

Elena pulls back, smiling. “I’m getting tired. The medication is kicking in.”

“Let me help you upstairs.”

I support her weight as we climb. She’s lighter than she should be, frailer, but getting stronger every day.

I settle her into bed, make sure she has everything she needs. She’s asleep within minutes, a small smile on her face.

I stand there looking at her, my wife, the woman I vowed to cherish, and I feel like the worst kind of monster.

But not enough to stop.

I leave the bedroom and head to my study. I need to work, need to clear my head, need to do anything except think about Seraphina down the hall.

The study door is cracked. I push it open and freeze.

Seraphina is sitting in my chair wearing a white silk nightgown so sheer it might as well not exist. I can see everything, those full breasts, nipples hard against the fabric, the curve of her waist, the shadow between her legs.

That blonde hair falls loose around her shoulders. Those hazel eyes lock on mine, and my cock goes rock hard instantly.

“Hello, Daddy,” she says in a sultry play, her voice like honey. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

“What are you doing here?” My voice comes out rough.

“You know what I’m doing here.” She uncrosses her legs slowly, deliberately. She’s not wearing anything underneath. I can see her pussy, bare and perfect, still soaked.

Every drop of blood in my body rushes south.

“The question is,” she says, standing, “what are you going to do about it?”

The nightgown clings to every curve as she walks toward me. Those breasts bounce slightly. Those hips sway. That ass moves in a way that makes my mouth water.

She stops right in front of me, close enough that I can smell her—vanilla and something darker, something that makes my cock throb painfully.

“I fucked myself thinking about you after you left me unfinished,” she says, tilting her head back to look at me. “But it’s not enough, because nothing feels as good as your cock. So what are you going to do about it?”

I grab her, rough, one hand fisting in that blonde hair, the other gripping her ass hard enough to make her gasp.

“You want to know what I’m going to do about it?” I growl against her ear, pulling her against me so she can feel how hard I am. “I’m going to fuck you on my desk. I’m going to make you scream my name. And then I’m going to go back upstairs and lie next to my wife like nothing happened.”

“Yes,” she breathes. “God, yes.”

I crush my mouth to hers, and the last shred of my conscience dies.