The orgasm he'd been coaxing under the table still shudders through me, leaving me boneless, breathless, and finally stripped of every lie.
Cindy stands up, brushing off her napkin, her face creased with worry. "You're burning up, Jess. That's not normal sweating. Let me run to Walgreens and get you something."
Yes. Go, my body screams, even as my mouth tries to form polite protests.
My eyes meet Jake's across the table. His gaze is dark, knowing, hungry. He hasn't removed his hand from my thigh. If anything, his fingers have crept higher, teasing the damp waistband of my sweatpants with a possessiveness that makes my pussy clench around nothing.
"I'll take care of her," Jake says smoothly, his thumb circling the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. "Promise."
"Be good, you two," Cindy laughs, grabbing her keys. She kisses my forehead — please don't smell my arousal — and then she's gone. The front door closes with a soft, final click.
Silence settles over the dining room, heavy and electric.
"Finally," Jake murmurs, but he doesn't grab me. He waits. Watching. "Tell me to stop, Jessica. Tell me to take my hand away, and we'll pretend this never happened."
My breath hitches.
My mind spins through all the reasons to say no — Cindy, the ring on his finger, the pot roast still steaming on the plates, the sheer moral bankruptcy of what we're considering.
But my hips rock forward, just slightly, pressing my soaked cunt against his palm.
"I can't," Whisper. My voice cracks. "God, Jake, please don't make me say it out loud."
"I need to hear it," he growls, leaning in, his free hand cupping my jaw with devastating gentleness. "Tell me you want your sister's husband to touch you. Tell me you want to be bad."
The shame floods my cheeks with heat, but the need is stronger.
"I want it," The confession tears out of me, raw and desperate. "Please. Please touch me. Please fuck me. Before she comes back, just... please."
That's all he needs.
He pulls me up from the chair — not rough, but urgent — and my oversized hoodie, my armor, my disguise, suddenly feels suffocating. He doesn't rip it. He watches my face as he unzips it slowly, letting the cool air hit my fevered skin, letting his eyes drop to my breasts heaving in my thin cotton bra.
"Fuck," he breathes, reverent. "You've been hiding these all night. Look at you."
He cups me through the fabric, thumbs brushing my stiff nipples, and the sensation makes me cry out — not in pain, but in relief. Finally. Finally someone is touching me where it burns.
"Please," Repeating like a prayer. "More. Please."
"You're soaked," He observes, his hand sliding down my stomach, into my sweatpants, cupping my pussy with a groan. "You've been this wet all through dinner? Thinking about my cock while your sister passed the green beans?"
"Yes," Admitting it is a relief. "Yes, Jake, all night. Since the laundry room last month. Every time. Please don't stop."
He doesn't.
He pushes the hoodie off my shoulders. He pulls my t-shirt up, exposing my breasts to the chandelier light, and then he lowers his head. His mouth closes around my nipple — hot, wet, sucking hard — and my hands fly to his hair, holding him there, arching into the sensation.
"Jake," Moaning. "Oh god."
He switches to the other breast, lavishing attention, his hand working between my legs, three fingers now, pumping into my eager cunt while his thumb works my clit. The chair scrapes. The table rattles.
And then he pulls back, standing up, his hands going to his belt.
"Show me," He commands, but his voice is thick with desire, not cold. "Show me what you need, Jessica. Be a good girl and show me where you're aching."
My hands shake as they move to my waistband.
Every instinct says to hide, to cover, to run. But the throbbing between my legs overrides everything.
With trembling fingers, push my sweatpants down my hips. Step out of them. Stand before him in only my ruined panties, the cotton soaked and transparent.
"More," He demands softly. "Show me everything. Spread yourself for me."
The words should humiliate me — they do humiliate me — but they also set me on fire.
Hook my thumbs into the waistband of my panties and pull them down, stepping out of them completely. Then, with my heart hammering against my ribs, reach down with both hands and spread my pussy lips apart for him, opening my most private place to his gaze.
"It's here," Whispering, my face burning with shame and need. "It aches. It's so empty, Jake. Please... fill it."
"Look at you," He breathes, staring at my exposed cunt with dark hunger. "Spreading yourself for me. Begging for your brother-in-law's cock. You're perfect."
He frees himself from his trousers, and the sight makes my mouth water — thick, heavy, flushed dark with need, the head slick with pre-cum. He's massive, terrifying, beautiful.
"On your knees," He says gently, guiding me down with a hand in my hair — not pulling, just directing. "Taste me. Show me how much you want this."
Sink to my knees on the hardwood floor, the position making me feel small, submissive, his. Look up at him once for permission, and when he nods, lean forward and lick the pearl of fluid from the tip.
The taste is intoxicating — male, dominant, forbidden.
Open my mouth and take him inside, wrapping my lips around the head, my tongue swirling. He groans, a deep, guttural sound that vibrates through me, and his hands settle on my shoulders, steadying himself.
"That's it," He encourages. "Good girl. Take more."
Try to relax my jaw, taking him deeper, my hand wrapping around the base of his shaft to stroke what won't fit in my mouth. With my other hand, find my own clit, rubbing frantic circles, unable to stop myself from seeking relief.
"You're touching yourself," He observes, voice strained with pleasure. "Look at you, Jessica. On your knees for your sister's husband, sucking his cock while you masturbate like a desperate little slut."
Yes.
The word echoes in my head. That's exactly what am. Desperate. Needy. Willing to do anything to ease the ache he's created.
Pull back with a gasp, saliva connecting my lips to his cock, my hand still working his shaft. "Please," Begging. "Please fuck me, Jake. Please put it in me. I can't wait anymore."
"Tell me exactly what you want," He demands, his eyes dark with dominance. "Explicitly. Tell me how you want your brother-in-law to take you."
"I want your cock," The words spill out, filthy and freeing. "I want you to fuck me on the table. Want you to fill my pussy with your cum. Make me yours while she's gone."
He lifts me up — effortless, strong — and lays me back on the dining table, the wood cold against my bare ass, the tablecloth bunching beneath me. He steps between my thighs, his cock bobbing heavy and hard against my stomach.
"Spread your legs," He orders. "Wide. Show me you're ready to take me."
Obey, opening myself completely, my knees falling apart, my pussy exposed and dripping. Watch as he grips his shaft and lines the head up with my entrance, the massive crown pressing against my tight hole.
"It's going to stretch you," He warns, but his voice is tender, heated. "Tell me you want it anyway."
"Please," Begging, my hips bucking, trying to impale myself. "Please put it in. Need to feel you inside me. Please, Jake."
He pushes forward.
The stretch is intense, burning, perfect. feel every inch of him forcing my walls apart, filling the emptiness that's been tormenting me all night. When he bottoms out, hitting that deep spot inside me, cry out — a sound of pure, obscene satisfaction.
"So tight," He groans, his hands finding my hips, holding me steady. "So fucking perfect. You were made for this, weren't you? Made to take my cock."
"Yes," Crying out as he begins to move. "Yes, Jake, please... harder."
He sets a rhythm — deep, powerful strokes that make the table creak beneath us. My tits bounce with every thrust, my nipples hard and aching. Reach down between us, rubbing my clit frantically, the dual sensation driving me wild.
"Look at you," He pants, his eyes devouring my body, the way submitting to him. "Fucking yourself on my cock. You love this. You love being my little secret slut."
"Yes," Admitting it as the pleasure builds. "Yes, I love it. Love your cock. Please don't stop. Please cum inside me, Jake. Please fill me up."
He leans over me, caging me beneath his powerful body, his thrusts becoming harder, more urgent. "You want my seed?" He growls in my ear. "Want me to put a baby in you while your sister's at the pharmacy?"
The words — the danger, the taboo — push me over the edge. "Yes!" Screaming, no longer caring about the neighbors, about anything. "Yes, please! Cum in me!"
He lifts me suddenly — still impaled on him — and carries me to the bay window. Press my back against the glass, the cool surface shocking against my skin, while he holds me up, my legs wrapped around his waist, my arms around his neck.
"Look," He commands, bouncing me on his cock, using gravity to drive himself deeper. "Look at the street. Anyone could see you. Anyone could see what a willing whore you are for your brother-in-law."
Look.
Through the sheer curtains, see Mrs. Henderson across the street. The risk — the exposure — sends another orgasm crashing through me. Clench around him, milking him, my pussy spasming uncontrollably.
"Please," Sobbing with pleasure. "Please cum. Please give it to me. I need it so bad."
"Take it," He snarls, his face buried in my neck, his thrusts becoming erratic, savage. "Take my cum, Jessica. Take every drop."
He slams up into me one final time, burying himself to the hilt, and feel it — the throbbing, the pulsing, the hot, wet flood of his seed filling my unprotected womb.
Thick.
Claiming.
Marking me inside as his.
Cum again — a silent, shuddering wave — my body doing what it was made to do, accepting his seed greedily, my pussy milking him dry.
We stay there, locked together, his cock still twitching inside me, his arms holding me up against the window, both of us staring out at the suburban street where my sister could return any moment.
"I'm yours," Whispering, exhausted, sated, ruined in the best way.
He kisses my forehead, then my lips, soft and possessive.