All Chapters of Craving My Sister’s Hot Husband : Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

Dominic I set a steady rhythm, the water cascading over us, her nails digging into my shoulders. She feels perfect. Always perfect.“Harder,” she demands. “I want to feel you for the rest of the day.”I give her what she wants. Pound into her against the tile, water making everything slick and hot. Her head falls back and I bite her neck, mark her, need everyone to know she’s mine.“That’s it,” she gasps. “Don’t stop. Don’t fucking stop.”The water is scalding now, pounding against my back like it’s trying to match the rhythm I’ve set inside her. I pull out almost completely, letting her feel the thick head of my cock drag slowly along every sensitive inch of her walls before I slam back in, harder than before, deeper, the wet slap of our bodies loud even over the hiss of the shower. She arches violently, breasts pressing into my chest, nipples hard little points scraping against my skin.“Again,” she pants, voice wrecked and greedy. “Don’t you fucking dare stop.”I don’t.

DominicWe’re back at the hotel. I don’t remember the walk from the bank. Don’t remember getting into the elevator or unlocking the door. Just suddenly we’re here, in this expensive room we can’t afford, staring at each other like survivors of a bombing.Seraphina sits on the edge of the bed, still in her professional bank outfit, mascara smudged under her eyes from crying. She hasn’t said a word since we left.“We need to figure out what to do,” I say finally.“What is there to do?” Her voice is hollow. “She took everything. You heard the bank. We have no legal recourse. No way to prove fraud. Nothing.”“There has to be something.”“There isn’t.” She looks up at me, and the defeat in her eyes is worse than any anger. “We’re done, Dominic. She won. Completely.”I pull out my phone. Check the balance on my one remaining credit card. Three hundred and forty-seven dollars left before it maxes out. In my wallet, maybe two hundred in cash.Less than six hundred dollars between us a

DominicThe Cayman Islands account information glows on my phone screen like a taunt. Twelve million dollars. Everything Elena stole from us, sitting in an offshore bank account we can’t touch.“We should try now,” Seraphina says. She’s pacing the hotel room, energy radiating off her. “Right now. Before Elena realizes we have the account numbers.”“It’s not that simple.”“Why not? Adrian gave us everything we need. Account number, routing codes, access passwords—”“Access to view the account. Not to move money out of it.” I pull up the Cayman bank’s website on my laptop. “Look at this. To initiate a wire transfer over ten thousand dollars, they require: verified identity documents, security questions, and either physical presence at a branch location or a pre-registered device.”Her face falls. “We don’t have any of that.”“No. We have the information to see how much money is in the account. But actually accessing it? That’s a different problem.”She sinks onto the bed beside

ElenaThe suite at the Dolder Grand has floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking all of Zurich. Lake, mountains, the entire city spread out below like pieces on a chess board.I’m standing at the window with my coffee, watching the sunrise paint everything gold, when my phone chimes.ALERT: Account Access Attempt - Cayman Islands Account #7734Status: FAILED - Incorrect Security CredentialsLocation: Zurich, SwitzerlandTime: 04:47 CETI smile.“They tried,” I say without turning around.Jennifer looks up from her laptop on the couch. “The Cayman account?”“Yes. Four forty-seven this morning. Must have kept them up all night.” I take a sip of coffee. “They failed, of course. Wrong answers to the security questions.”“Do you think they’ll try again?”“Absolutely. They’re desperate.” I turn to face her. “How desperate is the question.”Jennifer closes her laptop and comes to stand beside me. She’s wearing one of the hotel robes, hair still damp from the shower, looking relaxed

Seraphina“I can’t lose you,” I cry, voice splintering. “I can’t. I fucking can’t—”“You won’t.” He slams in again, balls slapping wetly against my ass. “I’m promising you right now, you won’t lose me.”“You can’t promise that!”“I’m promising it anyway.” He releases one wrist to thumb tears off my cheek, then drops that hand between us, rough fingertips finding my clit and rubbing fast, merciless circles. “We’re surviving this. We’re finding a way. And right now I’m going to fuck you until you forget how to be afraid.”He changes the angle, just enough, and the fat head of his cock drags relentlessly over that swollen, sensitive spot inside me. Once. Twice. Then I’m gone.I break with a scream, back arching off the bed, cunt spasming violently around him, gushing slick down his shaft and onto the sheets. My nails claw his shoulders, drawing blood, and I keep coming, wave after wave, shaking, sobbing his name like a prayer while he fucks me through it, prolonging every shattering pulse