Cami
My skin feels hot, and my pussy aches from the rough pounding Devon inflicted. The cool trail of his cum leaking down into my crease adds to my rising shame.
“?” Mike asks softly and I lift my eyes to his. He studies my face for a second before moving to our nightstand and grabbing the wipes we keep stashed there. He cleans the mess he made in his jeans and holds the pack out for me. “Are you okay?”
“Are you?” I retort, sitting up and grimacing when I feel the mess puddling on the sheets.
Mike pauses, the crinkling of the bag in his hands the only sound in our room. Then he glances at our closed door with a conflicted look. “I’m not sure yet.”
“That wasn’t our first time,” I admit.
His shoulders sag. “I assumed so.”
“I’m sorry.” The ache growing in my throat makes the words crack.
He crawls onto the bed, cupping my face. “No, . Don’t apologize. I think… I always knew. At least in some aspects, the secret phone calls… the faraway look you sometimes got when we would have sex.”
My heat plummets into my stomach. “Mike…”
He shakes his head. “I’m not saying this to upset you. I’m just trying to get you to understand that I’m here, . I’m here for the long haul.”
“Why?” I ask, desperate for his answer. I’m afraid to hope it to be true. I lift onto my knees, wrapping my fingers around his wrists. “You deserve better than me.”
His nostril flare. “No, you deserve the world. You are the kindest, most soft-hearted person I’ve ever known. And if I’m lucky enough to own even a portion of that heart, then I’ll never throw it away.”
Tears prick my eyes, falling down my cheeks in a burning path. “I love him too. I can’t let him go.”
“I know, darling,” Mike sighs, pulling my face toward him and kissing my forehead. “Let’s take a shower and get ready for bed.”
He helps me off the bed, carrying me into the bathroom and warming the water. My legs feel like jello, still shaking from the overwhelming pleasure from earlier. Mike undresses and then guides me into the shower, his arm wrapped around my waist as his chest is flush with my back.
“What if I get pregnant?” I ask.
Mike’s fingers flex on my belly. “Then we’ll finally be able to fill the nursery.”
I let out a sob, unsure if it’s from relief or agony. My husband hugs me closer, silently holding me till the tears finally stop and the water runs cold.
***
Mike went to work, not wanting to possibly upset Devon by staying home. I felt that was the right decision so I could gauge how he was feeling.
I started making breakfast like usual when his heavy footsteps set my heart off into an uneven pace. I’m not afraid of him, but last night changed things and now we could only go one of two ways. He stays with us or he goes. I don’t want the latter, but I’m not sure he can handle the first option.
My gaze finds his over my shoulder, my lips curling into a half-smile. “Morning.”
Devon looks around the kitchen, his eyebrow furrowing. “Mike go to work?”
I nod, facing the bowl of pancake batter. “Yes, he thought it would be better if we talked first.”
It’s silent, and I feel tension rolling off him. I take long breaths to calm my nerves as I wait for Devon to go through whatever thoughts and emotions he needs to cycle between. Setting the mixing bowl to the side, I move to the stove, butter the griddle, and then turn to face him.
He watches me carefully, a strange confliction twisting his face.
“What?” I ask, tilting my head as I try to decipher how he feels.
Devon’s jaw tics. “I didn’t expect him to just go on like a normal day.”
“Were you hoping to drive my husband away? That he would leave me after he watched you fuck me?”
His throat bobs as he swallows, and his tongue rolls over his bottom lip. Devon’s stare narrows.
I grab the scoop from the drawer before me and smile tightly. “What’s next then, Devon? Since I won’t choose and you can’t let me go either. How else are you going to try to run Mike off?”
He crosses his arms, leaning against the counter and continues to stare as I pour out the pancakes. My back is tense as I watch the bubbling batter.
“You’re awfully mouthy for a little housewife that likes to be fucked by her stepbrother while her husband watches,” he says, his voice getting louder as he walks to me. His breath tickles my neck. “I felt how drenched you were around my cock.”
A heated pulse starts between my legs and my hand shakes as I flip over the spongy circles.
“Mike doesn’t like penetrative sex,” I admit in a low tone.
Devon’s body stiffens where it’s flush against my side.
I clear my throat, keeping my attention on the stove. “He prefers to fuck me with a dildo or watch me fuck a dildo and come on me.” Since sleep escaped me last night, I had a lot of time to think over what happened and why my husband didn’t seem upset by it. It took me a while to piece together a somewhat conclusive reason.
His breathing picks up, the short pants blowing strands of hair into my face. I tilt my head towards him, our lips a heartbeat away.
“If anything, last night made him want to keep you around.”
“I fed right into his fantasy,” Devon whispers.
I smirk. “You did.”
Pulling the pancakes off the griddle, I slide them on a plate and pour another set as Devon takes a step back.
“Did you want anything else for your breakfast? I picked up some eggs and sausage.”
Devon lets out a hollow laugh, and I lift my eyes to his. He shakes his head and rubs a hand down his face. “I’m losing my mind.”
“Or maybe you refuse to see what else we could be. It may not be what you imagined, but life rarely goes the way you want.”
I face him fully, folding my arms across my chest. “Was last night really that bad? Because I feel like if you were thoroughly disgusted you would have left, but you fucked me harder than ever before,” I say, asking genuinely.
“I was hoping he would leave.” Devon squints his eyes at me, frowning.
Raising an eyebrow, I slide the plate of pancakes closer to him. “You know what I think?”
“What?” Devon asks.
“I think you got off on taunting my husband while you fucked me. The same way you got off at taunting me for how wet I always was for you over the phone. I think that’s your thing, but you’re being too stubborn to recognize it.”
“My thing?” he says with disdain.
I nod, pulling my bottom lip into my mouth as I turn and grab the syrup from the pantry. Placing it next to his plate, I stare at him, repeating my questions. “Was it really that bad? Does the thought of doing it again really disgust you?”
He grabs the pancakes, tossing me a steely look and then walks off to his room. I’m left in the empty, silent kitchen as lost as I was before the conversation.