Chapter 1: The Morning After the Vows

Claire stirred as the soft light of morning spilled across the room, her body slowly waking before her mind caught up. Her wedding gown hung from the closet door, its delicate lace glowing in the sunlight like a memory that hadn’t finished fading. The suite was quiet—so quiet, she almost wondered if the entire day had been a dream.

But then Daniel shifted beside her, murmuring something in his sleep, his arm instinctively wrapping around her waist.

Claire smiled before her eyes even opened.

His body was warm behind her, his chest pressed to her back, breath brushing softly against her shoulder. She let herself stay there a little longer, just listening to the silence of a new life beginning. His embrace was familiar and grounding. Comforting. He always made her feel safe—even before he was her husband.

Husband.

The word still felt too new. She didn’t know if she deserved it.

She turned carefully in his arms, not wanting to wake him yet, and took in the gentle slope of his cheekbone, the curve of his lips, the way his lashes curled slightly when he slept. He looked peaceful. Content.

He’d been so happy yesterday. Nervous, emotional, overflowing with love.

Claire swallowed softly. Guilt wasn’t the right word. Not exactly. She had chosen him—freely, completely. She loved the way he held her hand when she was anxious. The way he cooked on Sunday mornings. The way he truly listened when she rambled about her day. No man had ever made her feel seen the way Daniel did.

But as she reached down under the covers and shifted slightly, her inner thighs still tender in a way she didn’t expect, something unspoken curled tight inside her chest.

It wasn’t from Daniel.

She closed her eyes, and even in the warm safety of her husband's arms, she could still feel Jaxon’s fingers digging into her hips.

---

Daniel woke slowly, with the kind of quiet intimacy Claire had always adored. His hand slid from her waist to her lower back as he blinked up at her.

“Hey,” he whispered, voice still thick with sleep. “I married you.”

She smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. “You did.”

“Still time to run?” he teased, pulling her in.

She let herself melt into him. His kiss was soft, loving—so different from the bruising, desperate kisses she’d taken from Jaxon the night before. Daniel kissed like a man in love. Jaxon had kissed her like he wanted to ruin her.

“You okay?” Daniel asked when he pulled back slightly. “You’re quiet.”

Claire hesitated. “Just… soaking it in. It all feels a little unreal.”

He brushed his thumb along her cheek. “Me too. But I meant it, you know? Every word.”

“I know you did,” she whispered. “I did too.”

And she had. She just hadn’t told him the whole truth.

---

They spent the day wrapped in each other. Room service. Long showers. Laughing at their own awkwardness as newlyweds. When Daniel wrapped a towel around his waist and made coffee in the suite’s tiny kitchenette, Claire caught herself staring.

He wasn’t flashy like Jaxon—wasn’t ripped, or tall enough to turn heads across a room—but he had this steady presence. The kind of man who never tried to impress you. He just showed up for you. Every single time.

And still… her mind flickered back to the moment in the dressing room. Her wedding dress bunched around her hips. Jaxon’s cock in her soft and warm mouth. The way he growled in her ear, “You’ll walk down that aisle full of me.”

Claire blinked and looked away.

Not now.

---

That evening, she curled into Daniel’s chest on the couch while they looked at photos guests had already begun to send from the wedding. Her head on his shoulder. His fingers in her hair. Her phone buzzed once in her pocket, and her body went rigid for a half second before she could stop it.

“Family?” Daniel asked, half-paying attention.

“No,” she lied smoothly. “Probably one of the girls.”

He didn’t check. He never would.

She turned off the screen without looking—but she’d already seen the name flash.

Jaxon: “Bet you’re lying in his arms right now. Still feel my cock inside you?”

Claire pressed her cheek deeper into her husband’s chest.

She didn’t reply.

Not yet.

---

Chapter 2: The House We Built

Two weeks later

Married life had a rhythm Claire hadn’t known she craved.

She spent mornings wrapped in warm sheets beside Daniel, his soft kisses on her shoulder easing her into the day. Evenings were filled with small joys—sharing the couch under a blanket, brushing their teeth together, her hand resting on his knee during quiet dinners as they planned little things like home projects and weekend getaways.

He listened. He always had. She could come home from the worst day and find peace in the way he’d quietly slide her wine glass forward and ask, “Want to talk about it or just sit with me?”

Claire had chosen Daniel for all the right reasons. And for most hours of the day, she could forget what she’d done on her wedding night. She could pretend her body hadn’t been marked by another man while she vowed herself to him.

But even during their most peaceful moments—Daniel reading a book on the couch while she folded laundry—Claire sometimes found her thighs pressing together. Not from what Daniel was doing.

But from what Jaxon had done.

---

The knock on the front door that Saturday afternoon sounded casual, but Claire’s chest tightened instantly.

She’d forgotten how deep Jaxon’s voice was until he stood on the porch in a black T-shirt and faded jeans, a bottle of champagne in one hand and a smirk on his face.

“Surprise, Mrs. Sinclair,” he said smoothly, eyes sliding over her with lazy confidence. “Your husband invited me.”

Claire wore one of Daniel’s sweatshirts over leggings, her hair pinned up, feet bare. She suddenly felt half-naked.

Her voice came out softer than she intended. “Hi, Jaxon.”

He leaned in and kissed her cheek. Too close. Too slow.

His hand brushed her waist and didn’t move.

“Still glowing,” he murmured near her ear. “Guess marriage suits you.”

Claire stepped back, flustered, swallowing hard.

Daniel appeared behind her, cheerful and unaware. “There he is. Took you long enough, man!”

They hugged like old friends. Claire tried to smile.

---

The three of them sat in the backyard under a wide umbrella, warm spring light pouring in around them. Daniel poured drinks. Jaxon tossed her looks that burned through her skin.

Claire tried to focus on the stories, the jokes, the photo Jaxon had brought of a cabin he’d sketched for them.

But she couldn’t ignore the way his leg brushed hers under the table. How his eyes fell to her chest every time she moved. How he watched her like he already knew what her moans sounded like in that very sweatshirt.

“So,” Jaxon said, taking a sip of his drink. “You two gonna christen the new house properly? Every room?”

Daniel laughed. “We’ll get there.”

Jaxon’s eyes flicked to her. “Some rooms need an audience.”

Claire’s cheeks flushed. “You’re disgusting.”

“Never denied it,” Jaxon said with a slow smile.

Daniel excused himself to go check the grill.

And the moment he was out of sight, Jaxon leaned in.

Claire froze, wine glass halfway to her lips.

“I bet he thinks you’re pure. His good little wife.” Jaxon’s hand slid under the table, brushing her thigh. “But he has got no idea how wet you are for me right now.”

Her breath hitched. “You need to stop.”

“Do I?” he murmured, sliding his hand higher. “Or do you want me to remind you how good I made you scream in that hall?”

“Daniel’s outside,” she hissed.

Jaxon smiled. “He always will be.”

---

Inside, while Daniel stepped away to grab more drinks from the basement fridge, Claire moved toward the sink to rinse her glass. She didn’t hear Jaxon until he was behind her.

Suddenly, his body pressed to her back—hard and hungry.

His hands slid around her waist, up her ribs—and then he grabbed her breasts, rough and possessive, squeezing hard.

She gasped and dropped the glass into the sink with a loud clatter.

“Easy,” he growled in her ear. “It’s just me.”

Claire trembled as he kissed her neck, his thumbs rubbing over her nipples through the soft cotton. She arched before she realized it.

“Don’t—” she whispered, but her voice lacked any real strength.

“Don’t what?” Jaxon licked the shell of her ear. “Don’t remind you what you gave up when you picked the nice guy? Don’t make you moan while your husband’s ten steps away?”

He pulled her tighter, letting her feel his cock pressing firmly against her ass.

“You want me to stop,” he whispered, “but your body’s already fucking begging.”

She turned her head slightly, lips inches from his.

“You’re disgusting,” she whispered.

Jaxon kissed her hard.

She kissed back.

---

When Daniel returned, Claire was leaning over the sink, hands flat on the counter, trying to breathe. Jaxon was sipping from a beer and looking out the window, cool as ever.

“You okay?” Daniel asked, setting the beers down.

Claire nodded. “Just dizzy from the wine.”

Jaxon turned and said, “She’ll be fine. She’s tough. I’ve seen her handle worse.”

Claire couldn’t meet Daniel’s eyes.

---

That night, Daniel massaged her feet while they watched a documentary. He curled up beside her under the throw blanket and kissed the inside of her wrist.

“You good, baby?” he asked gently.

“I am,” Claire said softly, curling into him. “I’m just tired.”

He smiled, and she leaned in to kiss his cheek.

But behind closed eyes, she saw Jaxon’s smirk.

Felt his hands on her tits.

Heard him say, “You’re mine, even when you’re his.”

---

Chapter 3: When He’s Not Home

Claire had made the bed that morning, folded Daniel’s laundry, left his favorite mug on the counter. He’d kissed her forehead twice before leaving for work, reminding her they had dinner reservations at seven.

She’d smiled, kissed him back, and promised she’d be ready.

And now, three hours later, Jaxon was standing at her front door.

“You really opened it,” he said with a slow, smug grin. “Wasn’t sure you had the guts.”

Claire stood barefoot in leggings and a fitted tank, her hair loose over her shoulders, arms crossed in a half-hearted attempt at modesty. “You said you just wanted to talk.”

“I always talk,” Jaxon said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “With my hands. With my mouth. With my cock.”

“Jesus, Jaxon…”

The door clicked shut behind him.

He stepped in close—so close she had to tilt her chin up to look at him—and whispered, “Tell me you haven’t thought about it since the wedding. Tell me you don’t clench around nothing when he’s inside you because you’re pretending it’s me.”

Claire’s breath caught. Her legs weakened instantly, traitorous and eager.

“I’m married,” she said softly, but it sounded more like a question than a statement.

Jaxon’s voice dropped. “And I made you moan my name in your wedding dress. You don’t think that means something?”

She looked away. “It means I made a mistake.”

His fingers caught her chin and turned her face back toward his.

“No,” he said. “It means you liked being used. And now you miss it.”

---

She didn’t remember walking to the kitchen, but they ended up there. Jaxon leaned against the counter, watching her like a lion waiting for a crack in her armor.

“Where does he fuck you?” Jaxon asked, his voice low. “Bedroom?”

Claire swallowed. “We don’t just… It’s not like that.”

“That bad, huh?”

She glared. “He’s good to me.”

“I’m not talking about good.” Jaxon pushed off the counter and walked to her, grabbing her wrist and pulling her hand down to his crotch. “I’m talking about this.”

She froze as he pressed her palm over his hardening cock through his jeans. Thick. Heavy. Familiar.

“You remember it,” he murmured. “How deep I went. How loud you were.”

Claire’s hand trembled but didn’t pull away. Her fingers curled slightly, her grip tightening on him through the fabric.

“You’re a fucking bastard,” she whispered.

Jaxon smiled darkly. “And you’re the wife stroking another man’s cock in her husband’s kitchen.”

She squeezed harder.

---

He kissed her there—brutal, filthy, no romance—just hunger and heat and everything she hadn’t let herself feel in two weeks. His hands slid up under her tank top and found her bare breasts. He groaned as he squeezed them roughly, thumbs brushing over her hard nipples.

“Fuck, these tits are wasted on him,” he muttered, lowering his mouth to one, biting hard enough to make her gasp. “He touch you like this? Talk to you like this?”

“Don’t—”

“Does he ever say he wants to cum all over your pretty face while you’re on your knees begging for more?”

Her legs buckled. She clutched the counter behind her, panting.

“No,” she whispered. “He doesn’t.”

---

They stumbled toward the living room. Jaxon pressed her into the wall, one hand sliding down her leggings. He groaned when he felt the wet patch in her panties.

“Dripping for me, sweetheart,” he growled into her neck. “You’ve been starving for cock and pretending love is enough.”

“It is,” Claire moaned, even as her hips rolled against his hand.

“Then why are your panties soaked and your thighs shaking?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He kissed her again, shoving her leggings down as he walked her backward toward the couch.

“You ever fuck on this couch?” he asked.

She nodded, shame heating her face.

“Good. I’m gonna fuck you better.”

---

He shoved her onto it, pulled her legs open, and dropped to his knees between them.

“You deserve this,” he said, kissing up her inner thigh.

“I know,” she whispered, trembling. “That’s why I want it.”

Jaxon paused, smirked, and looked up at her. “Say that again.”

She swallowed, eyes wide, lips trembling. “I want it. I want you. Even if it’s wrong.”

“You’re goddamn right it’s wrong,” he growled, dragging her panties down and spreading her thighs wide. “That’s what makes it so fucking hot.”

---

Chapter 4: Off the Edge

Jaxon didn’t wait for permission. He never had.

Claire barely had time to catch her breath before he dropped to his knees in front of the couch, hands gripping her thighs and pulling her forward until her ass was perched right at the edge. Her leggings were bunched awkwardly at her calves, her panties stretched tight at her knees—thin, lacy, and soaked through.

He looked up at her with that familiar crooked smirk. “You wore these for him?”

Claire’s heart pounded. “I—”

Jaxon grabbed the lace in both fists and ripped it apart like it was nothing, the fabric tearing with a loud, humiliating snap.

“They’re mine now,” he growled.

She gasped, legs trembling, and before she could even protest, his hands were on her thighs again, spreading her open.

And then—he buried his face between her legs.

---

Claire’s head fell back against the couch with a helpless cry, her fingers flying to his hair on instinct. Jaxon groaned into her shaved, wet pussy like he hadn’t eaten in days—like he needed her to breathe. His tongue was wide, flat, and merciless, licking her from base to clit in long, greedy strokes that made her vision blur.

“Oh my God—” she whimpered, already shaking. “Jaxon—Jaxon, no—”

His hands grabbed her thighs and locked them open, muscles flexing as he pushed her knees back with force, spreading her wide for him.

“You’re gonna moan for me,” he muttered, lips brushing her soaked slit. “You’re gonna cum with your husband’s name still on your fucking mailbox.”

Then he dove in again, tongue flicking over her clit with obscene speed, then circling it, teasing it— drawing every sound out of her, from gasps to sobs.

Claire bit down on her knuckles, panting. “You can’t— we shouldn’t—”

Jaxon slid his tongue lower, dipping into her entrance and fucking her with it, slow and deep, then pulling back up to suck her clit hard between his lips.

“I’ll stop when you tell me your pussy belongs to him,” he said into her, lips slick with her arousal.

Claire couldn’t answer. She was too far gone.

---

He ate her like a man who owned her. Filthy. Possessive. Obsessive. His stubble scratched her inner thighs raw in the best way. His fingers gripped her hips, dragging her pussy against his mouth in rhythmic waves.

“Fuck, you taste like sin,” he groaned. “You gonna cum for me in your little husband’s house? Let me hear it.”

Claire arched her back hard, her heels digging into the couch. “Oh my God—Jaxon, please—”

He slid two fingers inside her, curling them just right, finding that spot that made her gasp like she’d been electrocuted.

“That’s it,” he growled, tongue never leaving her clit. “That’s the spot he never touches, isn’t it?”

She choked on a sob, thighs squeezing around his head. “He doesn’t know—he doesn’t know how—”

“He doesn’t know you,” Jaxon snarled, finger-fucking her harder now. “He doesn’t know this filthy little wife needs to be licked until she screams.”

Claire gripped his hair tighter, hips lifting off the couch as his tongue and fingers sent her body into a spiral. “I’m gonna—fuck—I’m gonna cum—”

Jaxon latched onto her clit with brutal precision, his fingers pumping deep and fast, wrist grinding into her, mouth soaked with her arousal.

Her body snapped.

Claire screamed through clenched teeth, her legs trembling violently, fingers clawing at his scalp as her pussy clenched hard around his fingers.

“Oh God—Jaxon!”

He didn’t stop.

He kept going, licking and teasing through her orgasm, dragging every last wave from her until she was a sobbing, twitching mess against the couch.

When he finally pulled back, his mouth was slick, his chin shining, and his eyes dark with hunger.

She lay there, panting, dazed, her tank top soaked with sweat, her legs still twitching open and closed.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, looking up at her.

“You gonna beg me now?” he asked softly. “Or do I have to make you?”

Claire swallowed hard, still gasping, her voice broken. “Please… I need more…”

Jaxon leaned in and kissed her—deep, filthy, full of her own taste.

“That’s my girl,” he whispered. “Now get up. I’m not done ruining you.”

---

Chapter 5: On My Knees for You

Claire stood there on the living room carpet, chest heaving, heart racing, pussy still twitching from the orgasm he’d just pulled out of her with his tongue. Her ruined panties lay in shreds nearby, a physical reminder of the moment she’d finally crossed the line she swore she wouldn’t.

Jaxon didn’t give her space. He loomed over her, shirt off now, his powerful chest rising and falling. Veins coiled down his arms, his abs flexed with every breath, and his jeans barely held back the thick outline beneath.

Claire’s gaze dropped lower—and stopped.

The bulge looked impossible.

He unbuckled slowly, watching her face as he pulled his pants down. His cock sprang free—thick, dark, glistening with pre-cum at the tip.

Claire gasped softly.

Twelve inches of hard, angry cock.

Still just as terrifying and beautiful as it had been on her wedding night.

“God,” she whispered, taking a step forward, hand reaching for it like it called to her. “You should be arrested for this thing.”

Jaxon chuckled, stroking it lazily. “You’ve already served time on it, sweetheart.”

She dropped to her knees.

Right there on her living room carpet.

In the home she shared with her loving husband.

Her fingers wrapped around the shaft—barely able to get around it with both hands.

“You’re such a fucking asshole,” she whispered, stroking slowly. “Doing this to your best friend’s wife.”

Spit dripped from her lips and coated the tip.

“I’m married,” she murmured, glancing up at him. “I wear his ring.”

She slid one hand down the shaft—until her wedding ring clinked gently against the base.

Jaxon groaned.

Claire felt it shoot straight to her pussy.

“Jesus,” she whispered, breathless. “I’m stroking you with my wedding ring, Jaxon.”

“You’re fucking twisted,” he said lowly, fingers brushing her cheek.

She looked up with a wicked smile. “You made me this way.”

And then she spit—a thick glob landing right on the fat tip before she smeared it down with both hands, stroking harder, faster.

Her lips parted, and she kissed the head—softly at first, reverent almost.

Then she took it in.

And moaned.