His Brother's Wife pt3

She didn’t even look at me the next morning.

I walked into the kitchen and found her at the stove, robe tied tight around her waist, hair pinned back, voice calm like nothing happened.

“Coffee?” she asked, casual. Cold.

I stared at her.

She didn’t meet my eyes. Just poured a mug and slid it across the counter like I was some house guest.

Last night I was inside her.

Last night she came with my hand over her mouth.

Last night she whispered my name while her husband slept ten feet away.

And now?

Now she was pretending it didn’t fucking happen?

“Elena.”

She didn’t flinch. “What?”

“You’re really doing this?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” She sipped her coffee, eyes fixed out the window. “We were drunk. It was a mistake.”

Bullshit.

I walked around the counter, closing the space between us. “You weren’t drunk.”

She set her mug down. “We’re not talking about this.”

“You’re right,” I said, grabbing her wrist. “We’re not talking.”

She gasped as I pulled her down the hallway. She struggled, but not hard enough.

“Stefan, stop—”

“No,” I growled. “You want to pretend nothing happened? Fine. Let’s make sure you never forget.”

I pushed the bathroom door open, flicked the lock, and turned the shower on full blast. Steam rose instantly, heat fogging the mirror.

“Elena—”

I shoved her back against the counter. Her robe slipped. I yanked the tie loose and let it fall to the floor. No panties.

“You don’t get to act untouched after the way you begged last night.”

Her breath came fast. Her nipples were already hard.

“You said it was a mistake,” I whispered. “Let’s make another one.”

I spun her toward the mirror and bent her over the counter. One hand on her lower back, the other between her thighs.

“You’re soaked,” I growled.

She whimpered. “Please…”

“You want me to stop?”

Silence.

My fingers slid inside her.

She choked on a moan.

“You don’t want me to stop.”

I fucked her with my fingers until her legs trembled, until her eyes rolled back in the mirror. Her hands gripped the edge of the sink, knuckles white.

“You’re such a liar,” I said against her ear. “You say no, but your pussy’s soaked for me.”

She whimpered again.

Then I pulled her toward the shower, yanked the curtain aside, and stepped in with her.

The water hit her skin, soaking her hair, cascading down her breasts.

I dropped to my knees.

“Stefan—”

I grabbed her thighs and buried my face between them.

She cried out, slapping a hand over her own mouth. Her body writhed under my tongue, grinding against my face, begging without words.

I ate her like she was mine. Like she was never going to be his again. Her moans echoed off the tile, desperate and choked.

“Stop—please—he’ll hear—”

I pulled her closer. “Let him.”

She came hard, hips bucking, thighs trembling. I held her through it, mouth greedy, tongue relentless.

Then I stood. Grabbed her throat.

Pushed her against the cold wall.

“You want to act innocent?” I hissed. “Let me fuck the memory out of you.”

She reached for me. I shoved inside her in one brutal thrust.

She gasped, nails digging into my shoulders, legs wrapped around my waist.

“You’re mine,” I growled, slamming into her. “Not his. Not anymore.”

She couldn’t speak—just moaned, breathless, her body slick and pliant under me.

I fucked her rough. Unrelenting. Her head hit the tile. Her whimpers got louder.

I clamped a hand over her mouth. “Quiet, Elena. Do you want him to come running?”

She nodded, wide-eyed, helpless.

“You want him to hear how wet you are for me?”

She shook her head. But her body said otherwise.

She was tightening around me again. About to come.

“Then be a good fucking girl and take it.”

She broke again. Her whole body spasmed. She screamed into my palm as she came, legs shaking, pussy pulsing around me like she couldn’t bear to let me go.

I grunted, slammed deep one last time, and spilled inside her with a guttural moan.

We stayed like that, panting, wet, ruined.

Then I pulled out slowly. Let her legs slide down.

She leaned against the wall, trembling, lips parted.

I grabbed her chin. Turned her face toward me.

“You can lie to him all you want,” I said. “But don’t you fucking lie to me.”

Her eyes filled with something between guilt and hunger.

“You want this,” I growled.

She didn’t deny it.

Because she knew it was true.