The Home-wrecker (The Goode Brothers)
The Home-wrecker: Chapter 23

My wife had her lips wrapped around another man’s cock. I should be full of rage and jealousy. Instead, I’ve never been more aroused in my entire life.

Tonight, however, she’s not my wife.

It’s amazing how that one thought changes things. And it’s not that I don’t want Briar to be my wife. That’s all I want.

But if I allow myself to suspend reality, the pressure of being her husband seems to dissipate. I have myself convinced that I’m not at risk of losing her. That one wrong move wouldn’t cost me everything. That I don’t have to constantly protect her.

It’s perfectly clear that she’s safe; neither of us is going to hurt her. I don’t need to protect her from Dean or myself. She could stop this at any moment if she wanted to.

But judging by the look on her face, she’s enjoying this very much. Which really, really turns me on.

I knew my wife had a dirty side. She’s human, after all. But something has held me back all these years from wanting to explore those things with her. If there’s anyone on earth that I should feel comfortable asking or exploring things with, it’s her. But there’s just been a disconnect. And I think the same goes for her as well.

“Get on the bed, you dirty little angel,” Dean mutters to her after pulling his cock from her mouth. “On all fours,” he commands. “But first, I want you to take those sweet little panties off. Show us that pretty cunt of yours.”

My heart beats harder in my chest at his words. He’s talking to my wife. There’s not a hint of hesitation in his tone. Why the fuck does this turn me on so much?

Briar crawls obediently across the floor. She moves into a standing position when she reaches the bed, gently sliding down her white lace thong. Her movements are slow and exaggerated—she knows we’re watching.

And like a couple of dogs, we are. We’re practically salivating.

Even though Dean hasn’t told her to, she slips off her bra as well, unhooking it from the back and letting it fall to the floor. When she crawls onto the bed, perching her ass in the air and exposing herself to us, I feel my mouth start to water.

Licking Briar’s pussy has always been my favorite thing to do. I feel like a fucking pervert for how much I love to bury my nose between her legs and inhale her scent.

The prospect of watching Dean do it is somehow even more enticing.

Walking over to her, I feel Dean following me. Reaching her backside, I spread her wide, and Dean presses down on her shoulders so her ass perks up farther into the air. He takes in the sight of her like an animal about to go in for the kill.

I’ve never seen her like this before, so filthy and uninhibited. Leaning down with a growl that emits from my chest, I run the surface of my tongue from her clit to her asshole, humming as I devour her and breathe her in.

“Oh my god,” she mutters into the blanket on the bed. Rising up with her taste on my tongue, I look at Dean. “Come here,” I mutter.

I hold the wet pink lips of her pussy open, showing her off, and gesture for him to do the same as I just did.

With a salacious grin, he leans down and licks the length of her cunt. But once he gets a taste, he can’t seem to stop. His groans are loud and hungry, and the more he sucks and teases her, the more she writhes and whimpers on the bed.

My cock twitches in my pants, and I feel the precum dripping from the head. I’ve never been this turned on in my entire life.

I nearly forgot why we’re doing this. How did this start? Does it even fucking matter? Because we’re not going back. We can’t undo what we’ve already done. And we certainly can’t fucking stop now.

Hearing Dean devour my wife’s cunt, I can’t wait another second. Leaning down, I press my face next to his, licking her hole as he sucks on her clit. She’s crying out in earnest now. We have her completely at our mercy.

“Oh my god, don’t stop.” She moans. “I’m gonna come.”

At the sound of her pleasure, Dean and I both become frenzied with our movements. Licking faster, sucking harder, groaning louder. Our cheeks are pressed together when I feel the warmth of his tongue brush mine.

Instantly, I tense at the sensation. Pulling back for a moment, I stare at him, gauging his reaction. With his lips still wrapped around my wife’s pussy, he gazes up at me.

Then, a brutal hand lands on the back of my neck, and he hauls me back toward her. A moment later, Briar begins to tremble and shake. Her face is pressed into the mattress as she lets out a long, groaning scream.

I’m so overcome by the sight that I don’t see his next move coming. With his hands still on the back of my neck, Dean jerks my mouth toward his. It’s brief, but it happens. Our tongues intertwine and our mouths collide. He bites my bottom lip, and my cock jerks again. My hand reaches out, wrapping around his throat, but I don’t push him away. I melt into the sensation of his tongue licking into my mouth, owning it for a brief moment.

Then, just like that, he releases me. The kiss only lasted a second, but for me, it was monumental.

“She’s not such a sweet angel now, is she?” Dean says, pretending like nothing just happened. “I think this dirty little angel wants you to fuck her hard.”

I’m still frozen, reliving that quick kiss. The sensation of his tongue against mine is burned into my memory, but at the mention of fucking my wife, I jolt out of my trance.

Standing from the floor, I quickly undo my pants, letting them drop to the floor. My boxer briefs follow behind, and I stroke my cock lazily as I watch Dean do the same.

There’s no denying how sexy that man is, especially in his tight black underwear. There are tattoos on his legs, and although he’s not a large man, his muscles are still defined. He is clearly in good shape.

Dean climbs onto the bed by Briar’s face, and I settle in behind her.

“How are you feeling, angel?” he asks, stroking her hair and lifting her chin so she stares up into his eyes.

“Good,” she says in a breathy, pleasure-laced tone.

“Tell me what you want,” he replies. “I need to hear you say it.”

“I want you in the front and him in the back,” she says without missing a beat. “And I want you both to fill me up.”

Jesus fucking Christ.

Just hearing my wife utter those words has me wanting to come. Where did this come from? How long has she been stifling these urges? And why wouldn’t she tell me? Did she think I would judge her? Like it wasn’t the wifely thing to want? Just because we’re married doesn’t mean our sex needs to be boring.

I can’t take another second without being inside her. I line my cock up with her glistening sex. Glancing up at Dean, I wait for the signal. For some reason, I need to feel as if he and I are in sync.

Licking his lips, he gives a curt nod, and I slide easily inside her. She lets out a soft moan, and I can hardly breathe with how good this feels.

Grabbing her hips, I ease out slowly just to the tip and then back in again. I want to savor this moment, this feeling of her like this—all three of us like this.

Thrusting slowly, I wait, watching them for the moment when Briar reaches for Dean’s dripping cock. Her hand wraps around his rigid length, and my eyes focus on the glistening wedding ring on her fourth finger.

Pride swells in my chest, watching her take both of us. Knowing that she loves it, that she asked for it, that she’s not afraid to express what she wants. This woman I married isn’t just brilliant and beautiful and kind, but she’s also the sexiest woman I have ever met in my entire life.

As Dean thrusts into her mouth, I try to match his rhythm, fucking her from behind. Using her cries and moans as a cue, I’m careful that I’m not too rough.

We keep this going for a while, changing speed and rhythm. The sound of her ass slapping against my hips echoes through the room. I’m trying to savor everything when even I know it’s too hot to savor. I’m burning up inside.

She groans around Dean’s cock, and my gaze scans his face. His jaw is slack, and his eyes are wide. He looks as if he’s struggling to breathe, and if I were to guess, I’d say he’s about to come.

I watch with rapt attention, desperate to see the moment when he unloads. I want to see the look on his face. I want to memorize it. I want to experience the pinnacle of his pleasure.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” he groans. “Your mouth is fucking magic, angel,” he says to her. “I want to come on your face. I want to come all over that pretty face of yours.”

Her response to that is a high-pitched whimper around his dick as she picks up speed, slurping on him with her lips rolled under her teeth.

Inadvertently, my thrusts quicken as well. I’m rapidly pounding into her from behind when Dean jerks his body away from her mouth. The booming sound that comes from him is indescribable.

Replacing her lips with his hand, he jerks himself, trembling violently as his cock shoots one white jet after another of cum all over her face. It lands on her forehead, her nose, her eyes, her lips. The expression on her face is downright rapturous as she accepts every drop.

“Holy fucking shit,” he mutters.

I think all three of us are shocked by the amount that comes out of him. But more than anything, I’m surprised to see how much he’s enjoying this. When we came in here, I sort of thought he would be levelheaded and cool about everything, but he seems as taken aback by this as we are, committing to the moment, relishing in the pleasure.

He loves this, and I love that he loves this. Although I don’t know why.

My own orgasm slams into me unexpectedly, and I let out some grunting sounds as I come inside my wife.

None of us move for a while. My orgasm doesn’t seem to end, but when I’m sure my cock is spent, I shiver and let myself finally breathe.

Dean is staring at Briar with his mouth hanging open as if he’s taking in the sight of her, surprised as to why her face is covered with his cum.

“Holy shit,” he whispers to himself.

After a moment, Briar mumbles sweetly, “Could you maybe get me a towel?”

“Oh, fuck, yeah…shit, sorry,” he stutters, jumping from the bed and rushing to the bathroom.

A moment later, he returns with a washcloth that he’s dampened in the sink. With delicate care, he wipes her face clean.

“God, that was a lot. I’m so sorry,” he stammers.

She giggles in response. “It’s okay.”

Slowly, I ease out from behind her, and she immediately moves to her back, extending her legs in the air, as she often does. A little still slips out, but I don’t wipe it away. I take pride in the way she looks, with my seed dripping from her as if it were more than her body could hold.

After taking the washcloth to the bathroom, Dean returns and pauses in the doorway, staring at her with a confused look on his face. “What are you doing?” he asks.

She smiles up at the ceiling. “It’s just something I do to make sure everything gets where it needs to go.”

“Does that help?” he asks.

“Probably not,” she replies with a shrug. “But I do it anyway.”

Dean picks up his underwear from the floor and quickly slides them up his legs. I do the same with my own. I’m grateful for the way Dean seems to fill the silence when I’m too stunned to speak.

I still can’t believe we did that. And yet, these two are just carrying on as if it were another regular Friday night.

“How are you feeling?” he asks her as he sits on the bed next to her.

“Great,” she replies nonchalantly. “That was fun.”

Fun? Did she literally call that fun, as if we just finished playing a board game? I Eiffel Towered my wife with a twenty-six-year-old male prostitute, and she called it fun.

“And how about you, big boy?” Dean asks, looking at me.

“What kind of question is that?” I ask with offense.

“A pretty normal aftercare question,” he replies.

“Yeah, but why would anything be wrong with me?”

“Just answer the question,” Briar says to me in a scolding tone.

“I’m fine,” I reply with far too much aggression, making the sentiment much less convincing.

“Uh-oh, you don’t sound fine,” Dean says, and it grates on my nerves.

But I am fine, I think to myself. Aren’t I? That was the hottest thing I’ve ever done in my entire life. I loved it. I definitely want to do it again.

But I have to admit—there is a hint of something inside me that says I’m not entirely fine. I just wish I knew what it was so that maybe I could express it to them.

“If Briar’s fine, then I’m fine,” I say, hoping it will be enough.

Immediately, Dean shakes his head. “No. That’s not how you answer that question.”

“What do you want me to say?” I argue, feeling myself getting heated. “I’m not hurt. That was great. I loved it. I’m fine.”

“You just seem tense, that’s all,” he replies.

“Are you dealing with a little guilt?” Briar asks softly.

“No,” I reply immediately, without hesitation.

And I’m not. I can tell that it’s not guilt.

But maybe a little…regret?

“It’s okay,” Dean says, putting up his hands. “It’s normal to have a lot of conflicting feelings after an intense sexual scene that maybe you can’t quite define.”

“Well, don’t you want to talk about them?” Briar asks.

“Not really,” I reply immediately.

“It might help to define them,” she pushes.

“What if I don’t want to define them?” I fight back.

“Caleb, stop,” she argues. “We’re doing this to help each other, remember? Because shoving down feelings and pretending they don’t exist and hoping that they go away is how we got into that fight in the first place.”

She climbs onto her knees and crawls toward me. Taking my hand, she looks into my eyes. “I felt closer to you tonight than I have felt with you in a very long time. Did you feel that too?” she asks.

The softness in her voice shatters me inside.

“Yes,” I reply emphatically. I saw my wife in a new light tonight, and I think I’ve fallen even more in love with her.

“Are you afraid that you’ve hurt me?” she asks.

“No,” I reply. “I trust you. I know you would tell me if I did.”

“I would,” she says with certainty. “Are you afraid this hurts our marriage?” she tries again.

“No,” I say. “But…” The word comes out of my mouth before I even know what I’m about to say. It’s just there, this but.

Her eyebrows perk up in interest as she waits.

“But it changes it, doesn’t it?” I say. And there it is. The change. The not good, but not bad change.

“You don’t like change,” she says as if she knows my mind better than I do, and maybe she does.

I don’t like change. I hate change. At the slightest hint of change, I turn silent, guarded, and irritable.

I know this about myself. Briar knows this even more. With a tight smile on her face, she strokes her hand down my bearded cheek. As she stares at me, we have a conversation with our eyes that words can’t convey. She settles me, eases my worries, confirms my fears.

From across the room, Dean’s voice chimes in. “I don’t understand what’s changed.”

And I don’t know how to answer that because I don’t know either.

I just know that something has changed or something is about to change. I feel it. She feels it. And tonight confirmed it.

It’s not a change in her or me or Dean, but a change in us.