You’re supposed to be my Brother Inlaw のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 11 - チャプター 20

The next day, I couldn’t go to school, so I lay in bed, trying to figure out what to do. Should I give in to this? I liked Ian a lot, he was handsome. I also loved the feel of his mouth on me. I was still thinking about everything when my phone pinged twice—one from Anna, the other from Ian. Anna: Hey girl, you’re not in school. Hope all is well? I’ll check in on you on my way back. Ian: Felicia, can we meet at the hotel in town? I want to see you. I promise to be gentle. Without thinking, I typed a message back to Ian. “Yes, I’ll be there. What time?” He replied instantly: “Meet me there by 2 p.m. so we can spend time together till evening.” He gave me the room details, and I quickly messaged Anna, telling her I was fine and not to worry. I couldn’t wait to meet him, so I hurriedly dressed and left the house before 2. When I got to the hotel, the receptionist assigned the room to me and said he wasn’t there yet. I got into the room, showered, and put on the robe. A few minute

The elevator ride down from the hotel room feels endless, my legs jelly, thighs trembling so hard I have to lean against the mirrored wall to stay upright. Every shift of fabric between my legs makes me flinch; Ian’s spit and my own slick have dried into a sticky mess that tugs at the sensitive skin he bruised with his teeth and fingers. My robe is gone, replaced with the sundress I threw on in a daze, but I still feel naked. Exposed. Branded. The receptionist gives me a polite smile as I stumble through the lobby. I wonder if she can smell it on me—sex and shame and the faint copper tang of the bite on my neck. I tug my hair over the mark and keep my eyes on the floor. Outside, the late-afternoon sun is too bright, too cheerful. It feels like a mockery. I pull the hood of my borrowed hotel towel over my head like a criminal and order an Uber with shaking fingers. The driver doesn’t speak, thank God. I curl into the backseat and press my forehead to the cool window, watching the c

The phone lands face-down on the nightstand with a crack that should’ve shattered the screen. It doesn’t. It just lies there, dark and silent, mocking me. No reply. Not a single fucking peep. Not even a read receipt. Felicia’s been ghosting me for six hours straight, and every minute of it is a blade twisting slow in my gut.I stare at the ceiling of our bedroom, jaw clenched so tight I feel the muscle jump. The fairy lights Eva strung up last month cast little gold halos across the walls. Eva’s curled against my side, head on my chest, one leg thrown over mine like she owns me. Her breathing is soft and even, lips parted, mascara smudged from crying earlier. She thinks we fought about groceries. She thinks I’m sulking because she “nagged” me.She has no idea I spent the afternoon with my tongue buried in her little sister’s cunt.My hand tightens on Eva’s hip, fingers digging into the soft flesh hard enough to bruise. She stirs, makes a sleepy noise, nuzzles closer. I should feel s

“Yes… please, right there. Please. Take me—fuck me as you will.” “Gladly.” I moaned louder, and in the middle of it, I heard footsteps at the door—someone trying the handle. Panic flared, and I tried to push him off, but he pinned me to the table. “Relax. The. Door. Is. Locked,” he said, punctuating each word with a thrust. He fucked me until whoever was there finally left, then released inside me, spilling his seed deep within me. The warmth of his release lingered, a sticky reminder pooling between my thighs as I lay there on the table, chest heaving, the air thick with the scent of sex and sweat. My skin prickled with the aftershocks of pleasure, but as the haze lifted, a cold wave of shame crashed over me. What had I done? I’d begged for it, moaned like something desperate, spread myself open for him at school—on a table anyone could have walked in on. The footsteps echoed in my mind, a cruel reminder of how close we’d come to being caught. My stomach twisted, bile rising in

I was halfway through my second cup when the back door slid open and Ian stepped in, sweat-damp from his run, T-shirt clinging to his chest. The air shifted, thickened. My pulse stuttered. “Morning,” he said, voice low, eyes locking on mine. He didn’t look at Eva—just me. The same eyes that had watched me come undone on that table two nights ago. I gripped the mug so hard I thought it might crack. “Morning,” I mumbled, turning to the sink, pretending to rinse a plate that was already clean. My skin prickled with the memory of his hands, the way he’d pinned me, the way I’d begged. I wanted to disappear into the suds. He moved behind me, close enough that I felt the heat of him. “Sleep okay?” he asked for the room’s benefit but the words curled around my spine like smoke. His fingers brushed my hip, feather-light, testing. I jerked away, water splashing over the edge of the sink. “Fine,” I said, too sharp. The housemaid glanced over, eyebrow raised, but Ian just smiled that easy, hu