Claimed By My Fiance's Brother

I was nervous. And whenever I got nervous, I got wet.

My thighs clenched, and I squirmed a little. Trying to distract myself, I looked out the window at the wide expanse of the shrubs at the roadside stretching out to the horizon. I wished I could open the windows; it'd be nice to breathe in fresh air and feel the wind on my skin.

Probably a sensory overload right now, but still…

Jason didn’t like the wind messing up his carefully arranged hair. I’d never met a man more dedicated to his hair routine than Jason.

It was my first time meeting his family. And I really wanted them to like me. The radio was on, blasting an eighties jazz that Jason was nodding to. I packed a bottle of my favorite wine and some flowers for his parents. Jason wasn't very responsive when I asked him about gifts I could bring.

“Don't stress it,” he'd said. “Mum's happy I'm getting married soon, that alone is the best gift you could bring her.”

But that was just the way of men. My southern upbringing wouldn't let me show up at my potential in-laws' house empty-handed. My mother always said, ‘You can never go wrong with gifts.’

I crossed my legs again, trying to get comfortable—my panties were soaked, and I felt them sticking to my pussy lips. If I were alone in the car, I would have pulled over at a rest area and rubbed a quick one.

You see, my pussy and I? We were very closely acquainted. She got me, and I got her. But times like this, where she betrayed me by acting up and demanding attention, always left me feeling frustrated. I had to settle for squirming subtly throughout the journey.

Driving up to Virginia was my idea, actually. We missed our flight, and couldn't find other flight options. I hated to postpone our arrival, so I proposed a road trip—insisted on it, really.

After all, the last-minute quickie had been my idea.

“Still nervous?” Jason asked, peering at me from behind his sunglasses.

Meeting him was the best thing that had ever happened to me in a long, long time. That might sound very cliché, but it was true. Our relationship was easy, comfortable. It wasn’t fiery perhaps, but it was steady—and familiar. And I didn't want to mess things up between us.

“A tiny bit,” I smiled.

He patted my lap, “It'll be fine. You'll see.”

“That's like your answer to every issue,” I quipped.

Jason smiled, “My parents are great people. You wouldn't get any problems with them, you'll see “

I nodded.

If only.

★

We arrived early in the evening, just in time for dinner. Jason's parents were really nice, totally calming my fears. And their house was beautiful. White picket fence, a massive yard, and an indoor pool.

His mum, or Gigi as she insisted I call her, was a delight— blond hair, blue eyes— I could see where my fiancé got his looks from.

Paul, Jason's dad, was more on the quiet side. He welcomed me, but didn't say much, which I was totally fine with. I wasn’t much of a talker myself.

We dropped our luggage by the door and headed on into the house, the smell of something delicious lingering in the air.

“Why don't you relax in the parlor? Dinner will soon be ready,” Gigi said to me.

The men were already seated there, shooting the shit. A football game was playing silently on the huge screen on the wall.

“I'm sorry, but can you show me to the bathroom, please?” I said. “It was a really long ride, and I have to freshen up a bit.”

Gigi smiled. “Sure, dear. It's just down the hall, to the left.”

I smiled in gratitude and left to locate it.

Gigi must have thought that I was a vain woman, but no. I wasn’t going to the bathroom to touch up my makeup or whatever. I was going there to have a conversation with my pussy.

And to change my panties.

Dropping my purse in the commode, I took off my panties, the fabric sticky with residues of my arousal. The air hit my bare skin, and I almost whimpered with relief.

Lowering myself onto the toilet seat, I spread my thighs—just enough to slide a hand down, fingers brushing over slick heat.

The first touch to my clit was electric. I hissed, biting down on my lips to avoid making a sound.

I circled slowly, savoring the feel, and pressed down hard.

‘I shouldn't be doing this at my in-laws' house,’ I thought. But the thrill of getting caught propelled me further.

I was frigging my clit furiously now, chasing the high. My mind conjured an image of him. I knew it was coming, but my toes still curled.

It was him. It was always him.

It had been what? Almost six months, but his hold on me was still as strong as it was the first time I met him.

I could almost feel his phantom fingers curved around my waist, bending me, and forcing me to take him…

My thighs quivered, and my fingers moved faster, wetness coating my hands—slippery, and obscene.

It was the memory of his ‘Good girl,’ whispered in that rough, deep voice that drove me over the edge.

It was so intense that a few tears slipped out of my eyes. Panting from the sheer force, I opened my eyes.

And the shame came immediately.

What the hell was I thinking? Rubbing one out at my fiancé's parents’ house, and to the thoughts of another man, no less.

Cleaning up quickly, and donning the fresh pair of panties in my purse —yes, I always carried spares— I headed to the kitchen.

Gigi was already dishing up the food, so I began setting up the table. I was placing the last fork at the head of the table when Gigi came out of the kitchen carrying the salad.

“Oh, hon. We'll need another placemat at the table.”

I was confused. There were four already—Jason, me, and his parents. Was there another person coming?

“Why five?” Jason echoed my thoughts, snagging a piece of cucumber from the salad bowl.

Right on cue, the front door opened. There was a brief pause before we heard heavy footsteps coming towards us, like that of a predator sneaking up on its unsuspecting prey.

My nipples tightened painfully, and my pussy began to leak. My face felt flushed, and my breath hitched.

Somehow, I didn’t know how, but I knew who they belonged to. Because in all my existence, only one man had been able to elicit those reactions, just by being a few feet away from me.

How in the hell was this possible? What was he doing here— how could he be here?

This was not good.

“Don't tell me you invited him, Ma,” Jason was saying.

“And why shouldn't she?”

I heard his voice before I saw him. Tall, dark, absolutely gorgeous. All of my darkest fantasies wrapped up in the six-foot-two hunk of a man currently hugging Gigi and kissing her hair.

I froze in place, staring at the events taking place in front of me, through a mist—the past and the present colliding in my head. The slight thrill running through my spine now, almost an echo of the one I felt seeing him seated in the SLAA meeting, sleeves straining against his crossed arms, looking like a biker accidentally dropped into group therapy.

‘This is not happening, this is not happening,’ I kept chanting in my head.

Then, I noticed Jason hadn’t said a word since he joined us. I looked over to him.

His hands are fisted at his side, nose flaring. “What the fuck are you doing here?” Jason asked, rather nastily.

He smiled sardonically, one side of his lips curled slightly more than the other. And my stomach lurched. I knew that smile intimately.

“Dropped by to see dear ol’ mama,” he drawled.

My eyes literally bulged out of their sockets.

Mama?!

Somebody shoot me, please.