LOGINVictoria's POVJude answers first, stepping up beside me. “Does it matter?”“It matters to me.” Jade’s eyes never leave mine. “I’ve been listening through the vents for weeks. Heard every wet sound. Every time you tried to stay quiet and failed. Last night I stood outside this door and listened to you cum on his cock. Tonight I watched you walk in here like you couldn’t wait another second, Victoria.”Heat floods my face—shame and something darker, something that makes my pussy clench around nothing. I should be horrified. I should be scrambling for excuses. Instead my nipples are tight under the thin dress and the ache between my legs is only getting worse.“Jade—”“Don’t.” He takes one step closer. “I’m not here to tell Dad. I’m here because I’ve been stroking myself raw every night listening to you two. And I’m done waiting my turn.”The words land like a hand between my legs. Jude’s posture shifts, protective, possessive
Victoria's POVI move quietly through the hallway, my eyes darting around for any sign of movement. When I reach the master suite, I slip inside and shut the door, locking it firmly. I lean back against the wood, my heart still slamming against my chest. After having a hot bath, sleep doesn’t come. I lie in the big empty bed that belongs to me and a husband who is currently thirty thousand feet above the ocean and keep replaying the sound of that breath outside the door. The way the knob turned just enough to prove someone was testing it. Someone who didn’t barge in but listened. Jade.Does he know I'm fucking his brother?By the time morning light filters through the curtains, I am restless, sore between my legs in the best way, and already craving more of Jude’s big cock.………Jude finds me in the kitchen at half past seven that morning. He’s in running shorts and a damp shirt from an early jog along the shore. Jade is still upstair
Victoria's POV What kind of woman sneaks down a dark hallway at two in the morning with her stepson’s cum still drying on her tongue and her wedding ring catching the moonlight? Well, I do. My husband is somewhere over the Atlantic again, another “urgent” trip that leaves me aching and restless. I stopped pretending the ache was loneliness weeks ago. It’s hunger. Specific. Forbidden. I push the guest-room door open without knocking and the lock clicks softly behind me. Jude, my stepson, was already waiting—shirtless, with his sweatpants hanging low on his hips. The athletic lines of his twenty-four-year-old body were lit by the soft glow of the single lamp on the nightstand. He was quiet. Intense. Just like the way he’d looked at me the first night I dropped to my knees for him three months ago. “You’re late,” he says, voice low so it won’t carry. “Your father texted from the airport. So, I've been on the phone with him. Moreover, I had to wait until the house went quiet, an
Elise’s POVI stayed exactly as he had left me, bent over the reading table, cheek against the cool wood, skirt tangled around my ankles, the open manuscript only inches from my face. Grant’s cum was already sliding down the insides of my thighs in slow, warm trails. The air in the special-collections room felt heavier now, thick with the scent of sex and old paper and the faint trace of his cologne.He stepped closer. The wet head of his cock brushed my lower lip. I opened without being told.“Good,” he said quietly. “Take your time. I want every trace of us gone from my cock and left on your tongue.”I closed my lips around him and began. The taste was unmistakable—salt and skin and the deeper, intimate flavor of what he had just poured into me. I licked slowly, thoroughly, the way I handled fragile pages: with care and complete attention. I cleaned the head first, tongue circling, then took him deeper so I could run the flat of my tongue along the thick shaft
Elise’s POV Grant’s hand stayed firm at the back of my neck, holding me in place against the table as he began to move again. The strokes were still measured, still devastatingly controlled, but there was a new weight behind them now—an edge of finality that made every deep thrust feel like a decision he had already made. The silk tie between my teeth was soaked. Every muffled sound I tried to keep inside still escaped as soft, broken vibrations against the fabric. The rare botanical manuscript lay only inches from my face. I could see the delicate ink lines of leaves and petals while Professor Grant Hale fucked me with slow, punishing precision over the very table where I had spent years handling irreplaceable paper with gloved hands. He kept the pace deliberate. Almost all the way out, then a long, thick slide home that forced the air from my lungs. The wet sound of it was obscene in the quiet special-collections roo
Elise’s POVGrant’s hand finished lowering the zipper of my skirt. The fabric loosened and slid down my hips in a soft whisper, pooling around my ankles. Cool library air touched the backs of my bare thighs and the thin white lace of my underwear. I remained bent over the reading table exactly as he had placed me, cheek against the polished wood, heart beating so hard I could feel it in my throat.He stepped back just far enough to look at me. I heard the quiet sound of his belt buckle, then the softer rustle of fabric. When he moved in close again, the hot, heavy weight of his cock rested against the curve of my ass, skin to skin. Thick. Already fully hard. The contact made my breath catch.“Look at you,” he murmured, voice still low and controlled. “Quiet little archivist, bent over rare manuscripts with her skirt around her ankles. Years of being so careful, and all it took was one locked door.”His hand stroked once over the lace covering me, then hooke







