My Husband's Brother Owns Me

•~•Chloe’s POV

I stood before the full-length mirror, my fingers tracing the crimson silk that hugged my body like a second skin. The dress was exquisite, undeniably so. But it felt like a costume. I was a woman of soft blues and gentle creams, of understated elegance meant to help me disappear into the background, not command the center of a room.

Yet, a hesitant smile touched my lips. “Well? What do you think?”

He was leaning against the far wall, his frame draped in a simple charcoal hoodie, the sleeves pushed carelessly to his elbows. His dark hair was its usual tousled mess, as if he’d run his hands through it a dozen times and given up. But his eyes… those cool, piercing green eyes were locked on me with an intensity that felt like a physical weight.

I watched his gaze travel a slow, deliberate path from the crown of my head, down the column of my throat, over the dress that accentuated every curve, to where the fabric pooled around my ankles. He didn’t blink.

“Take it off.”

The smile vanished from my face, taking the warmth from my cheeks with it. In the mirror, my own reflection stared back, lips slightly parted in confusion. “What? You don’t think Ethan would—”

“No, he wouldn’t approve.” His voice was a low, flat murmur that held a dangerous edge.

Then he pushed off the wall, closing the distance between us with measured, predatory steps. The air grew thick, charged with the heat radiating from his body as he came to a halt directly behind me.

His breath ghosted over the sensitive shell of my ear as his fingers found the line of my spine through the silk, climbing upward until they settled on the zipper’s pull.

“…But I do. And what I’d prefer infinitely more is the sight of you without it.” The words were a rough whisper against my skin as his mouth descended to my neck, planting slow, open-mouthed kisses along its side.

My head tilted of its own accord, granting him greater access, a soft, involuntary sigh escaping me as our eyes met in the glass. His had darkened, gleaming with a hunger that seemed to challenge me to refuse him, even as he knew I was powerless to do so.

But I had to try. I needed to—before we crossed another line we could never uncross, before I allowed to happen what was never, ever meant to happen between us.

“Alexander…” My voice fractured into a mere breath. “We can’t. I’m your brother’s wife. This is a sin. What if someone finds—”

“Shh.” The sound was a soft brush against my ear, followed by the deliberate, grating zzrrp of the zipper being drawn down, shattering the tense silence.

He eased the delicate straps from my shoulders, and the dress slid down my body in a whisper of silk, collapsing in a scarlet puddle at my feet.

I stood exposed, clad only in black lace, the sudden coolness of the room raising goosebumps on my skin.

His eyes never wavered from the mirror. He stared at my reflection as if committing every detail to memory, a look of near-devotion on his face.

“You are… utterly fucking breathtaking, Little Bird.” His voice was gravelly, thick with something akin to reverence.

My heart hammered against my ribcage as I turned slowly, finally facing him. His hands rose to cradle my jaw, his thumbs stroking over my cheekbones. “You know that, don’t you?”

My lips parted, but any response was stolen as his mouth captured mine.

The kiss began gently, almost exploratory, his tongue mapping the contours of my mouth with deliberate slowness. But it quickly ignited, turning fierce and desperate, as if he’d been parched for a lifetime and I was the only source of water.

His hands were everywhere—gripping my waist, palming the curve of my backside, hauling me against him until not a sliver of space remained. Before I could even process the movement, he lifted me as if I were weightless.

Instinctively, my legs wrapped around his waist, my arms locking around his neck as he carried me to the heavy wooden dresser and deposited me on its cold surface. The chill of the wood seeped into my thighs, but it was instantly burned away by the furnace of his body.

He broke the kiss only to wrench his hoodie over his head and toss it aside. His shoulders were broad, his chest solid and defined without being overly sculpted. A line of elegant cursive script was tattooed across his right pectoral, another, shorter inscription rested below his left collarbone, and a stark black band encircled his upper arm.

The muscles of his abdomen tightened along his lean torso as he moved, and in that moment, a wicked thought consumed me—the desire to trace every ridge and plane of him with my tongue, to learn the taste of his skin.

But the fire in his eyes told me patience was a luxury he didn’t possess.

“Lean back,” he commanded.

And I obeyed, as if the words were a spell I was bound to.

He sank to his knees, his hands sliding my lace panties down my legs with agonizing slowness, one side, then the other, until they joined the dress on the floor like a fallen offering.

Lifting one of my legs to rest on the dresser, he hooked the other over his shoulder and leaned in.

His mouth blazed a trail of searing kisses up the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, higher and higher, until his tongue delivered one long, flat, devastating stroke.

A shuddering gasp tore from my throat, my eyes squeezing shut. Liquid heat, pure and blinding, surged through my veins.

His tongue was wicked—soft, wet, and impossibly warm as it began to circle my clit in slow, torturous revolutions. A moan escaped me, one hand gripping the edge of the dresser for purchase, the other tangling in his dark hair, urging him closer.

His rhythm quickened, his licks growing firmer, his suction more demanding, as if he were trying to consume me.

Just when I thought the pleasure couldn’t possibly intensify, he slid one finger inside me, then a second.

My hips bucked off the wood as another sharp, exquisite wave crashed over me, leaving my legs trembling so violently my foot slipped on the polished surface.

“Al-ex…ander.” His name was ripped from my throat, ragged and airless.

He drew back from my core, but his fingers never ceased their relentless, deep pumping as he glanced up, a devilish smirk playing on his lips.