Filthy games with my fiance's brother

DAHLIA

"Fuck, I'm close," my fiancé, Sebastian, grits out while still on top of me, his body carefully positioned between my legs as he thrusts in and out of me at a slow yet passionate pace—except I don't find anything about this sex... passionate.

If I'm being completely honest, this is purely boring sex.

Seb is too slow and gentle with me, and that isn't what my body craves. It's simply not how I enjoy being fucked.

But I can't voice my displeasure because I know my complaint will only upset him, like it always has the previous times I've told him I didn't enjoy the way he fucks me.

Heeding my therapist's advice, I once opened up to Sebastian and told him how I wanted him to be intimate with me in bed. How I wanted to be manhandled by him. Fucked ruthlessly until my legs started shaking uncontrollably. But apparently, those are absurd demands to him.

He once called me a slut for craving wild fantasies—for asking too much of him. When, in fact, all I wanted was for him to make me experience an orgasm for once. It's been ages since he last left me sated.

If anything, I always end up sexually frustrated after an intimate session between us.

I was hoping tonight would be different because we just celebrated his latest work achievement earlier this evening. The night was perfect, and the sexual tension was there. I was really looking forward to having one of the most pleasurable nights with him for the first time in a while.

"Urgh, fuck," Seb groans, pulling me from my thoughts as he suddenly increases his pace, his dick slamming in and out of me.

I feel my body ignite with sensation instantly, a rush of excitement surging through me.

Gosh, finally.

It's happening.

I think I'll finally have that orgasm I've been yearning for.

Unable to contain my excitement, I let my hands roam over his back, clinging to him as my trimmed nails dig into his skin. Soft gasps spill from my mouth, a tingling sensation trailing down my spine.

I moan quietly, inwardly grateful my wish for a wild night has finally come true.

However, it seems yet again, I am wrong.

Just three... three seconds later, a groan tears out of Sebastian's throat as he suddenly stops moving. He remains atop me, his dick still throbbing inside my core.

And that's when I realize.

He already climaxed—before me. Again.

The excitement I'd felt vanishes without a trace.

No. Fuck, no!

I wasn't even close to having an orgasm. How could he just stop?

Then again, it's not something I'm not already used to.

However, I can't let him leave me like this again. I'm so fucking horny right now, I could fuck a horse.

"Seb... Wait," I stop him as he pulls out of my desperately aching pussy.

"What is it?" he grunts, removing the condom from his cock without sparing me a glance.

Gosh, I feel like crying right now.

"You—I..." I struggle for words, my heart twisting painfully. I swallow hard when he finally looks my way.

I hope the disappointment on my face says everything I'm struggling to. But it's sad he doesn't catches on it.

"What's wrong with you?" he asks, his brows furrowed.

"I didn't orgasm, Seb," I say in a low voice, feeling deeply ashamed because I don't want to be labeled a whore again. "Please... can you continue?"

He shakes his head. "Can't, sorry." He sighs heavily before dropping onto the bed beside me. "Go watch porn or something, Dahlia. I'm tired. You know I've been working all day. I need to rest now."

"Please?" I beg as he turns his back on me, pulling the duvet over himself.

He sighs. "I love you, baby. But I can't. I'm really exhausted. Please try to understand."

For how long?

That's all I ever do—understand him. Every fucking time.

Is it impossible for him to make me orgasm just once?

For fuck's sake, I don't even remember what it feels like to be a woman anymore.

I remain on the bed for a moment, my resolve crumbling with frustration. Seb's snores drift into my ears, only making me feel even more pathetic.

I can't believe he fell asleep on me again.

My frustration bubbling to the surface, I wipe away the tears gathering in the corners of my eyes before climbing out of bed.

Fine. If he doesn't want to help me out, I might as well help myself. It's the reason I bought several vibrators after all, although Seb has no knowledge of them. If he did, he'd probably get really upset that I'm relying on artificial tools for sexual satisfaction.

I bet he'd even call me a slut again.

He's not a fan of sexual fantasies. Yet somehow, I'm engaged to him when I know deep down that I love sex. I love being fucked and experimenting with new things with my partner.

Picking up my phone from the nightstand, I quietly make my way to my closet and grab one of my vibrators.

Seb is still sleeping soundly and completely oblivious when I tiptoe past him toward the bathroom.

Now, please don't get this wrong—sex isn't my problem, nor am I an addict. I simply crave satisfaction. Too bad my partner is too selfish to let me experience that with him.

I couldn't possibly cheat on Sebastian even if I wanted to. It'd break him. I know how much he loves me, and I love him just as much. It's the reason we've been engaged for nearly six months, after all. Seb has sacrificed a lot for me, and I'm not an ungrateful bitch, so no, cheating is out of the question.

However, this unfinished sex issue is starting to become a real problem for me. I don't know how much longer I can cope, and I promise, I've been enduring this torment for the entire three and a half years Seb and I have been together.

My therapist is the only person who knows how badly this issue has affected me. She's advised me to talk to my partner about it, but that hasn't turned out so well the few times I've tried.

Closing the bathroom door behind me, I walk over to the counter and lean against it before bringing up my phone.

I open the porn website and click on a video titled, 'Fucked by My Boyfriend's Brother.'

Nice.

But I quickly shake off the possibility of it ever becoming my reality. I mean, having to get fucked by Sebastian's billionaire brother, Zane Thorne, a.k.a. the arrogant prick of the Thorne family? That would be wild.

I don't even like the guy enough to even entertain thoughts like that, so I shake my head, refocusing on the man and woman fucking on my screen.

Parting my legs, I settle my vibrator against my clit, letting it do its thing.

My back arches off the counter as I roll my hips, my eyes clouding with lust while waves of pleasure start to ripple through me.

A minute later, I'm this close to climaxing when an image suddenly pops onto my screen, replacing the porn video I was watching.

It's a picture of a shirtless man in grey sweatpants hanging low on his waist — would easily pass as a thirst trap. Tattoos spread across his broad, sculpted chest and trail down his big, muscular arms. The sight of his athletic physique nearly has me drooling.

Without bothering to look at his face, I quickly imagine those muscular hands holding my thighs apart while he eats me out. I picture those long tattooed fingers scissoring me from the inside out. My eyes drift lower across his body, catching the obvious outline of his monstrous cock through the grey pants.

I quickly reimagine it—him pinning me against the wall, my legs hooked up in those same hands, while he drives his massive cock into me… over and over again until I—

"Fuck, fuck, argh..." I whimper out loud, throwing my head back as my orgasm crashes down on me in a tidal wave.

My legs quiver, pleasure spilling through me as soft moans fall from my lips while I come undone.

I feel deeply satisfied by the time I come back from cloud nine. My chest rises and falls on a heavy exhale.

Fuck. That was intense.

What the hell.

Did I just come to a picture of an unknown man?

Does this count as cheating? I hope not.

I set my vibrator aside and reach for my phone again, wanting to see the stranger’s face.

I’m about to view the thirst trap—strangely sent by my boss, Will Owen—when I notice it has just been deleted.

Will’s apologetic message comes through immediately.

Will: Wrong picture, sorry. But it’s still the same man anyway. Below is the picture I intended to send you, Dahlia. And don’t ask why I had the first one on my phone. You know the dude is so hot, both genders want him in their beds… Anyway, he is your next interviewee. I believe you’re already familiar with him. Time for the interview is tomorrow, 7 PM sharp. At the Casa Bar he owns. Good night.

I immediately download the image he sends, and shock slams into my chest the moment I recognize him.

He’s no longer in grey sweatpants but now in a black tailored business suit, looking sharp, his presence effortlessly commanding as always.

His dark hair is slicked back from his forehead, revealing those intense blue eyes that feel like they’re piercing straight through me—like he somehow knows exactly what I just did with his picture.

My heart thunders with bewilderment as I stare at the unmistakable face of Zane Thorne—my fiancé’s fucking older brother. The same man I’d just said it would be disgusting to fantasize about, purely because I can’t stand him. And that's because he and my fiancé are not exactly on good terms.

But that’s beside the point…

What the hell just happened?

What the hell have I done?

Did I just… come… to the thirst trap of this asshole?

What the fuck, Dahlia?!