Chapter 3 CHLOE

Derek was on his bed, legs spread apart, one hand jerking his cock, roughly, the other tugging at his balls.

I was frozen in place, standing by the door like some pervert, watching him make love to himself.

Saliva pooled in my mouth. I would have given anything to be able to climb over him and suck that bead of precum from the tip of his slit.

Of its own volition, my hands inched towards my shorts and found my heat.

And I moaned on contact.

I freaking moaned.

Derek's eyes shot to the door, and darkened even more.

I should have run. But my feet wouldn't move. What was it about him that made my body betray me?

It should have frightened me. I was standing in the hallway, where anyone could see me. My fiancé was literally sleeping a few doors down, and I was here.

Watching his brother jerk off, and touching myself.

He was not even looking at my face anymore. His gaze burned hot on my skin as they traveled down my body, to focus below, at my hands moving beneath my shorts.

I was horrified —I should have been horrified. But I was not. My eyes were eating up his every movement hungrily.

Derek stroked himself more slowly now. Deliberately. Like he was performing for me. Like he was teasing me— edging me. Which must have been a joke, because I had literally been on edge since I walked into this house.

A faint noise echoed from someplace I couldn't pinpoint, and then another light came on. Under Gigi and Paul's bedroom.

Someone was coming.

And I was still not moving.

Instead, my toes were curling and my spine was tingling.

Derek was looking at me now, a silent dare to leave on his face.

“Dirty girl,” he whispered to me.

And I cum. It was earth-shattering. I bit my lips to keep silent, white spots dancing behind my eyelids.

It'd been too long since I felt this soul-wrenching satisfaction, and I'd almost forgotten what it felt like.

When I opened my eyes, Derek was still on the bed, eyes on me—and a pool of cum splattered across his belly.

It was his arrogant smirk that shook me back to reality finally.

What had I done?

I rushed back to my room, past a sleeping Jason, and into the ensuite bathroom.

Looking at my reflection in the mirror, I felt a wave of disgust wash over me.

But the only regret I had was that I didn't get to see him cum.

What did that say about me?

★

It was almost noon when I woke up the next day. I was mortified. This could not be a good first impression to make. Gigi and Paul must have thought I was dead weight.

It was probably due to last night's shenanigans—and yes, that's how I chose to treat what happened yesterday...

Because it sure as hell wasn't happening again.

Throwing off the blankets, I padded to the bathroom to get started, picking up a discarded towel on the floor.

Jason and his quirks. I shook my head ruefully.

I was out and dressed in cargo shorts and Jason's wife-beater in a few minutes.

Feeling well rested and refusing to question why, I headed downstairs to find others.

It was strangely quiet. Everyone was nowhere to be found.

Tiny was sitting on the fridge top, grooming herself. On the kitchen counter lay a plate of pancakes. I took the lid off and turned to put it into the microwave.

“Late night?” Derek's voice boomed from the kitchen entrance. Closing my eyes, I cinched my metaphoric belt tightly and turned.

He was leaning against the doorway, hands crossed across those massive chests, dressed in a grey hoodie and dark cargo pants, the kind that cinched at the ankles. I'd always liked men in hoodies and sweats.

‘Not today, Chloe.’ I told myself.

“Where's everybody?” I asked instead.

“Out,” he said, eyes roving my body.

“Quit that,” I grumbled, putting the plate in and setting the timer.

“Quit what?” He asked, obtusely.

“You're staring,” I said pointedly.

“Like you were last night?” He quipped back.

And—my face was hot again.

“What happened last night?” I challenged, crossing my own arms.

Derek's brow rose. “That's what we're doing? Playing pretend?”

Interesting choice of words. Playing. I was not biting, though.

I didn't say anything, turning to take my food out.

He got out of the door, coming to a stop in front of me. I swallowed roughly.

“Don't do this,” I said quietly, hating the way my voice quivered.

“Do what?” He replied in a whisper. Almost like last night's —

“Jason's my fiancé. You are his brother. We can't —”

“So we could, if I wasn't related to him…”

I didn't know if that was a question. Or a statement, but I didn't care.

Against my wishes, my heart was racing beneath my chest.

Maybe my mother was right. I WAS a whore. Why was I dreaming about my fiancé's brother in his parents’ house?

And Jason…

God, Jason didn't deserve any of this. He was good to me. The sex was good.

But it wasn't great.

And somehow, I couldn't make myself settle, no matter how much I wished I could.

Abruptly, he sidestepped me, going to start the coffee machine. I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with the much-needed oxygen, before carrying my plate to the table.

Gigi came in, carrying a large sack filled with groceries.

“Oh,” she said when she saw me. “You're awake finally.”

“Hello Gigi,” I managed, around a mouthful.

Derek came around to take her bag. He began to put away the eggs, milk, and vegetables silently.

Paul and Jason came into the house, deeply immersed in an automobile conversation. Spying me finishing off the last of my breakfast/lunch, he came over to kiss my head.

And my eyes found their way to Derek, for whatever reason.

“You must have been pretty wiped out yesterday, babe.” He says, sitting next to me. “You looked so peaceful, I couldn't bear to wake you.”

And that Jason being Jason. He was so sweet, so intentional towards me. I couldn't wait to be his wife on paper.

Ignoring the heated glare I could feel at the back of my head, I nuzzled into him, affectionately.

“We should go out today,” I said. “You could show me your town. Where you like to eat, it'd be fun.”

“You think?” He asked. I nodded, forcing myself to feel enthusiastic about the idea.

“Okay, let's do that, absolutely.”

I kissed him and left to change.