I'm Sorry, Darling

After we had our routine intimate session, I lay naked on the bed, still feeling the lingering sensations in my body.

My husband, Gordon Zule, panted lightly beside me as he casually grabbed a few tissues. "Don't be so loud next time," he mentioned.

I understood what he meant.

Ever since his younger brother, Yoseph Zule, moved in a few days ago, having another young man in the house made things a bit inconvenient. It wasn't like before when we could be as uninhibited as we pleased.

Yet my husband enjoyed the way I moaned, so his request was more about moderating the volume than stopping entirely.

"Darling, I still want more…" I murmured after catching my breath, feeling unsatisfied. But when I turned my head, I saw Gordon had already put on his pants, preparing to leave for work again.

Gordon had been incredibly busy lately—he practically lived at the office. This time he only came home because it was my ovulation period, and we were only trying to conceive.

As I watched him leave, a sense of disappointment crept into my heart.

This guy always rushed back, took off his pants, got on top of me in bed, did his thing, and then hurried off without a care for whether I was fulfilled.

Did he never worry that I would cheat on him?

Lying there, I picked up my phone and scrolled through my chat history with my best friend, Miranda Gunther, until a picture of a muscular man caught my eye.

Underneath the photo, my friend had written, "Take a look at your brother-in-law's body. He's like a modern-day Hercules! He's got a huge package."

There was an itch. It was an unbearable itch deep inside.

I bit my lip, staring intently at the man in the photo, my toes curling beneath the blanket as I fought against the overwhelming sensation threatening to consume me.

Miranda and I had been close since our school days. She was bold and flirtatious, while I was more subtle in my approach. One of our favorite pastimes was comparing the men in our lives, sometimes even seducing each other's partners.

A while back, during a time when Miranda wasn't seeing anyone, I introduced her to Yoseph, who had just graduated from college. They ended up in bed together that very night.

Afterward, Miranda couldn't stop praising Yoseph's skills and even shared some private photos and videos of their time together.

Yet, all I could do was watch her revel in the experience, unable to have any part of it myself.

Sighing, I adjusted my lace nightgown and quietly got out of bed. I walked into the living room, only to freeze at the sound of a voice.

"Sarah."

Startled, I turned to see Yoseph, dressed only in his brief, working out on an ab roller.

I asked after a brief pause, "Why are you still up?"

"You were keeping me up with all that noise." He threw a brief, suggestive glance toward my legs before resuming his workout.

For some reason, I didn't shy away from his gaze. Instead, I sank onto the couch, my eyes involuntarily tracing the lines of his broad back and taut muscles as he moved.

It wasn't long before I felt my cheeks flush, my heart racing.

There was something about the way he worked out—it was far too reminiscent of... that kind of motion.

I was sure he would be making the same motions if it were a woman under him.

In particular, he was repeating the thrust with all his might while staring between my legs. The amplitude made the gym equipment vibrate so violently that it almost fell apart when pushed to its limits under his movements.

The muffled hums from time to time made me feel a ridiculous sense of excitement.

He was violating me with his eyes!