His Brother's Wife pt4

She didn’t speak to me for two days.

Not a glance. Not a whisper. Not even a fucking breath in my direction.

Ever since that morning in the shower, she’d locked herself in silence, like if she ignored me hard enough, the ache between her legs would disappear. Like pretending she was still loyal could erase how loudly she moaned with my hand over her mouth.

But guilt was a weak shield.

And lust always wins.

Especially when my brother finally showed up.

---

Matthew Salvador arrived on a Wednesday—pressed shirt, expensive watch, briefcase like he was walking into a board meeting instead of a summer lakehouse. He kissed Elena’s cheek with the passion of a dead fish and set his bag down like he was already bored of being here.

“Stef,” he said, nodding at me.

“Matt.”

We shook hands like strangers.

Polite. Stiff. Civilized.

But my eyes were on her the whole time.

Her lips still looked swollen.

Her thighs stayed pressed together.

She wouldn’t look at me.

Not once.

---

The next day, I found her in the laundry room.

She stood barefoot in front of the dryer, folding Matthew’s shirts with trembling hands. Her robe hung loosely, tied at the waist, and I could see the edge of red lace peeking through.

She didn’t hear me come in.

Or maybe she did.

I stepped behind her, close enough that my chest nearly touched her back.

“You fold his shirts after letting me fuck you against tile?” I murmured.

She flinched. “Don’t.”

“Do you ever think about that while you touch his clothes?”

“Stop it, Stefan.”

I reached around her. Palmed her between the legs through the robe.

She gasped, grabbing my wrist. “He’s here—he’s upstairs—”

“Then be quiet,” I growled.

I turned her around, grabbed her face, kissed her hard. She fought it for half a second—then opened for me like she always did.

“Why are you doing this?” she breathed against my lips.

“Because I want you,” I said, voice dark. “And you want me.”

I yanked the robe open. No panties.

“You came down here like this?” I hissed. “You wanted to be caught.”

“I didn’t—”

I bent her over the dryer, spread her thighs, and shoved two fingers inside her. She was soaking.

“Goddamn it, Elena.”

She whimpered, head down, cheek pressed to the cold metal. “He’s right upstairs—please—”

“Then bite your fucking lip.”

I slid in without warning. She cried out, clamped her hand over her mouth, body arching hard against mine.

I gripped her hips and slammed into her, rough and fast.

The dryer shook. Her knees buckled.

“Louder,” I snarled. “Let him wonder.”

She whimpered something desperate, her voice muffled.

I grabbed her hair and yanked her up, kissed her throat, bit hard enough to leave a mark.

“Elena,” I growled, slamming deep. “Tell me who fucks you better.”

She cried out. “You—God—you do—”

“Say it again.”

“You fuck me better than he ever did.”

I snapped. Fucked her harder. Marked her shoulder. Bit her neck. Scratched her thighs.

When she came, she screamed into her arm, legs shaking, body clenching around me so tight I saw stars.

I followed with a grunt, spilling deep inside her, pressing my face into her shoulder while I pumped the last few strokes out.

We both stood there for a second. Gasping. Sweating.

Then I leaned in. Kissed her bruised neck.

“He’ll see that.”

“I know,” she whispered.

And she didn’t stop me.

---

That night, at dinner, Matthew squinted at her collarbone.

“You scratch yourself?” he asked.

She froze mid-bite. “Yeah. Must’ve been the shower rail.”

He stared at her too long.

Then smiled.

“Be more careful, babe.”

He kissed her temple and took another sip of wine.

I didn’t miss the way his jaw clenched.

I didn’t miss how he looked at me when she turned away.

And I knew.

He saw it.

He knew.

He just hadn’t said anything.

Yet.

STEFAN

She kissed me like the world was ending.

We were in the kitchen—sunlight pouring through the window, the smell of coffee in the air—and Elena grabbed me like she hadn’t been able to breathe without me. Her fingers curled into my shirt. Her lips crushed mine. Desperate. Starving.

I pressed her against the fridge, hand already sliding between her thighs.

"Not here," she gasped, eyes darting toward the hallway. "He could hear us—"

"I don’t care."

I kissed her again, harder.

Her robe fell open. No panties. She was dripping for me.

I slid a finger inside her, and she bit her lip to stop a moan.

“I missed this pussy,” I whispered. “You act like I don’t exist, but this—” I pumped into her once, slow. “This remembers me.”

Her eyes fluttered.

Then we heard a click.

The kitchen door.

Footsteps.

We froze.

Matthew.

He stepped in. Calm. Like he’d been watching.

He looked at us. At her robe. My hand.

Then his eyes met mine.

“You done?” he asked softly.

I didn’t answer.

Neither did Elena.

He set down his keys. “Come upstairs,” he said to her.

She blinked. “What?”

His voice didn’t rise. Didn’t falter.

“Bedroom. Now.”

She hesitated.

“Go,” he said again.

Elena swallowed. Nodded. Left.

And then he turned to me.

"You want her?" he asked.

I stared at him. My blood boiling. My cock still hard.

He stepped closer. His voice dropped.

“Then watch.”

ELENA

I sat on the edge of the bed, robe clutched in my hands, legs trembling.

This wasn’t how I imagined it.

This wasn’t anger.

It was control. Cold and quiet.

The door opened.

Matthew walked in with Stefan behind him.

My heart dropped.

“W-what are you—”

“Don’t speak,” Matthew said. “Lie back.”

I obeyed.

He pulled the robe off slowly. No tenderness.

I was bare in seconds.

Then he looked at Stefan. “You’re going to watch what a husband does.”

I gasped as Matthew grabbed my thighs and spread them. No warning. No question.

His mouth was on me in seconds—tongue deep, lips slick. He devoured me like I’d betrayed a kingdom.

I moaned loud. Couldn’t stop it.

And from the corner of my eye, I saw Stefan.

Standing. Watching.

Jerking off.

His jaw was clenched. His fist pumping slow and hard, eyes locked on my soaked cunt.

Matthew slid two fingers inside me and sucked on my clit.

I cried out, thighs shaking.

And then he pulled back.

“You wet for both of us?” he asked.

I couldn’t breathe.

“Answer me.”

“Yes,” I choked.

---

Matthew stood and unzipped his pants. His cock was already hard. He grabbed Elena by the hips and dragged her to the edge of the bed.

He looked at Stefan. “You’ve fucked her in secret. Now do it where I can see.”

Stefan moved like he was in a trance. He knelt between her legs, took her thighs over his shoulders, and buried his mouth into her.

Elena gasped, her head falling back. “God—”

Matthew slid into her mouth while Stefan ate her. A filthy, silent triangle of possession.

Elena moaned around Matthew’s cock as Stefan licked her from below, his tongue flicking her clit, his moans vibrating against her soaked folds.

They didn’t speak.

They just took.

When Elena came, her entire body convulsed.

Matthew didn’t stop.

He bent her over. Gripped her ass. And slammed inside her pussy from behind while Stefan moved up, kissing her neck, jerking himself off as he whispered, “He doesn’t make you come like I do.”

Her response was a breathless cry, lost between them.

They moved her like a doll—lifting her, folding her, splitting her open between them.

When Matthew fucked her from behind, Stefan got under her and slid into her mouth.

Elena was wrecked.

Eyes blurred. Legs trembling. Drool on her chin. Her voice broke into fragments of “Please” and “Fuck” and “Too much”.

She came again—violently.

And still they didn’t stop.

---

Matthew pinned her wrists above her head.

“She’s mine,” he said.

Stefan’s voice was low. Jealous. “Then why does she call my name?”

Matthew smirked. “Let’s see who makes her scream louder.”

They switched positions.

Now Stefan inside her, rough and savage, his hand around her throat.

Matthew behind her, mouth on her neck, biting her shoulder.

Two brothers.

One woman.

And Elena breaking beneath every thrust.

---

They came almost at the same time.

Stefan groaned her name, filling her up.

Matthew growled, “Mine,” and came all over her back.

Elena collapsed.

Body twitching. Legs useless. Skin burning.

She looked up, dazed. Lips swollen. Throat raw.

“What the hell was that?” she whispered.

Neither man answered.

Matthew tucked himself away. Turned to Stefan.

“Next time,” he said, voice quiet, “ask before you take what’s mine.”

Then he walked out.

Elena stared at Stefan.

And Stefan just stood there—naked, aching, and more obsessed than ever.