#2 The Wrong Brother

Nicole

I opened my mouth to answer, to tell him something, anything. But no words came out of my throat, not a single coherent syllable. Only a broken, choked, and shameful moan escaped.

Devian didn’t need any more answer than that. His hand, already buried deep beneath my underwear, didn’t stop for a second. On the contrary, he increased the rhythm of his movements.

His fingers filled me as he pumped my canal from the inside out with a dirty, expert rhythm. The wet sound of his fingers entering and leaving my vagina echoed in the tense silence of the room.

I felt his fingers rubbing my internal walls, gliding with sinful ease thanks to the abundant wetness my own body was producing for him. I had never felt so aroused before.

"You’re so wet for me..." he growled against my ear, biting my lobe with provocative possessiveness.

He sped up the movement of his fingers inside me, finding my exact spot, making my knees tremble and my fingers clutch the edge of the vanity until my knuckles turned white.

"Look at yourself," he ordered, his husky voice vibrating down my spine. "Look at how the perfect bride spreads her legs for the groom’s brother."

He forced me to look at the reflection. The image was devastating. Me, undone, with my dress hitched up, and Devian behind me—dark, huge, dominating me.

I heard the sound of his zipper. He freed himself with impatience, yanking his fingers out of me abruptly, leaving me empty for an agonizing second. He grabbed my hips with his large hands, his fingers sinking into my flesh with force, marking his territory.

"You’re going to feel me all day," he warned.

"Devian..." I moaned as I felt the tip of his cock pressing against my entrance.

Devian sank into my canal in a single slow thrust, opening me and filling me from behind. His member occupied every inch of my interior, rubbing my walls with a thickness that left me breathless. I felt deliciously full.

"So tight..." he hissed through his teeth, jaw tense, holding back. "Your pussy feels so fucking good."

He withdrew almost completely before filling me again with a single deep thrust, sliding his cock into my wet canal, ripping a moan from me.

He continued fucking me in a way that turned me into a mess. The sound of his hips slapping against my ass and the wet noise of our friction filled the room.

"Let everyone out there hear who is fucking you, Nicole," he said, gripping my hips firmly and pushing harder inside me. "And when you’re at the altar saying 'I do,' you’ll still be able to feel me inside you."

The crudeness of his words made my belly tighten, and a tide of heat bathed my entire body.

"Devian, please..." I cried out, pleasure building like a storm.

The constant friction, the pressure of his hard body, and the sight of us in the mirror were too much. A devastating orgasm hit me, my pussy clamping around his cock while he continued thrusting with delicious violence.

"Mine," he growled. "You are fucking mine."

He held onto my waist with brutal force and gave three final, ruthless thrusts, burying himself in me to the depths of my canal before emptying himself.

I felt the spasms of his cock pulsing deep inside me, and then the unmistakable warmth of his cum flooding me, filling me completely, spilling inside me in thick waves.

He kept me there, pinned against the vanity, making sure I felt every drop of his essence marking me.

Slowly, Devian withdrew. He kept one of his strong hands holding my waist and, with possessive tenderness, adjusted my underwear and lowered the layers of my dress, but without cleaning the mess inside. He wanted me to carry it with me to the altar.

I licked my lips, feeling my mouth dry, and before I could say a word, he spun me around, pressing me against his chest, and kissed me in a devastating way.

His mouth claimed mine with delicious intensity. His wet tongue tasted faintly of whiskey, and I moaned into the kiss when he squeezed me against his body. His fingers undid the veil, letting it fall to the floor, stripping me of the last symbol of that farce.

When he finally broke the kiss, our foreheads rested together, breathing the same air charged with lust and sin. His hands cradled my face, his thumbs caressing my cheekbones with a firmness that admitted no doubt. His dark eyes bored into me, intense and determined.

"Forget about this, Nicole," he ordered, his deep, gravelly voice vibrating against my skin. "About the wedding, and about him."

His dark eyes descended to my mouth and then locked back onto my gaze.

"You’re mine, and I won’t let you belong to anyone else. We’re leaving. Now."

My heart beat wildly against my ribs. The doubt from before had turned into absolute certainty.

I looked at the veil lying on the floor, then felt the wetness of his cum leaking between my thighs, reminding me who I really wanted to belong to, in body and soul.

"Yes," I whispered, surrendering to the inevitable. "I want to go with you."

A predatory smile, loaded with satisfaction, curved his lips. He didn’t wait a second, he captured my mouth again in a ravenous kiss, sealing the pact, claiming me once more.

He pulled back just a few millimeters, his lips brushing mine as he spoke.

"We’re going home, baby," he murmured, a dark promise shining in his eyes. "I’m not finished with you yet.”