My Brother-in-Law’s Sick Obsession

I was curled against my husband's chest late that night, my cheeks still warm and flushed, but something was missing—a restless, hollow feeling lingered deep inside.

"Honey… I need more."

He casually passed me a few tissues without looking back. "I've got to get back to the office. Try to keep it down next time, alright?"

Then it hit me—Ryan Lowell had just moved in. We couldn't exactly carry on like we used to.

But my husband always loved hearing me lose control. So instead of stopping, he just told me to be quieter.

Lately, he'd been buried in work, sleeping at the office more often than not. The only reason he came home tonight was because I was ovulating. This was a scheduled pit stop—just business. Baby-making business.

Watching him walk away, I felt that familiar pang of disappointment. This man… he'd rush in, push me onto the bed, finish what he came for, then zip up and leave without a second glance.

Did he even care if I was satisfied?

Wasn't he worried I might… wander?

Alone in bed, I grabbed my phone and mindlessly scrolled through my messages with Isabella Evans.

Then—bam—a photo popped up. A shirtless man, all muscle and swagger, taking up the whole screen.

Underneath, Isabella's gloating text: Check out your brother-in-law. Total modern-day Adonis. I'm telling you, better than any black guy!

It itched.

Everything itched.

I bit down on my lip, staring hard at the photo. My toes curled under the sheets as a slow, maddening heat spread low in my belly.

Isabella and I went way back—college friends. One of us was wild out in the open; the other was just as wicked, but better at hiding it.

Our favorite sport? Comparing men.

Sometimes even stealing each other's.

A while back, when she was going through a dry spell, I introduced her to Ryan—my freshly graduated brother-in-law.

They hooked up that same night.

And ever since, Isabella hadn't shut up about how good he was. She'd send videos. Photos. Detailed reviews.

But all I could do was watch. Never taste.

Smoothing down my lace nightdress, I slipped out of bed and padded quietly into the living room.

"Sis."

The voice came from below. Ryan was right there, wearing nothing but boxers, working out on an ab roller.

I froze for a second. "Why are you still up?"

"You kept me awake."

His eyes drifted down to the hem of my nightdress before he turned back to his exercises.