The Home-wrecker (The Goode Brothers)
The Home-wrecker: Chapter 30

“Okay, how about this?” Jules asks, reading from the notepad in her lap. “The statement made by my father, Truett Goode, this past Saturday was made in error. While I have spoken to my father recently, neither I nor my legal team have made any commitment to defend or represent the defendant in a court of law. The charges brought against him are charges I take very seriously as the victim of this offense is also a member of my family, and therefore, I cannot, in good conscience, act as the legal representation for anyone involved in the proceedings.”

Jules looks up from the notepad and gives me an uneasy expression. Something about the statement doesn’t sit right with me. Letting out a sigh, I rub my brow.

“I sound too complacent.”

“You have to be passive,” she replies.

“Do I?” I ask.

“Caleb,” she says in her stern, motherly tone. “You have a legal firm and a reputation to protect. You are simply withdrawing your name from the conversation to protect yourself. That is reasonable. You don’t need to be heroic.”

I know she’s right, but I don’t feel any better about it. “I don’t even know what the heroic thing would be in this situation.”

“Nothing,” she states flatly. “The heroic thing to do is to let the justice system do their thing and hope he goes to prison for a long time.”

There’s a tension headache forming in my frontal lobe as I rub my forehead again. “I know,” I reply.

I can still see the furious expression on Adam’s face last night. Last year, when he and our father had their big fallout, my brother made a huge spectacle of himself publicly rebelling and speaking out against our father. It was a mess. But my brother does not have a wife, a child, and a business to protect. He wanted to ruin his own life, and in some ways, that’s exactly what he did.

But I am not my brother.

“Type it up,” I say to Jules, waving her off. “I don’t care anymore. Just run it. Call one of our contacts at the paper and give him our statement.”

“You got it,” she replies enthusiastically, jumping up from her seat.

When Jules leaves my office, shutting the door behind her, I recline in my office chair and stare at the ceiling. Ironically enough, this situation with my father is only the second most stress-inducing matter at this moment in time.

My homelife is also in shambles. Briar is so mad at me, and rightfully so. I lied to her, cheated on her, betrayed her, neglected her, and hurt her—all things I made a solemn vow never to do. My job is simple, protect her, love her, be truthful with her, and be loyal to her. And yet, I failed at every single one.

And for what? Because I found another person who seems to stare right into my soul as if he understands everything that I feel. Even when he hates me and even when I feel as if I hate him, we are still connected. I still want him in a way I’ve never wanted anyone except for Briar.

Half the workday has gone by, and I haven’t heard a word from either of them. I don’t know if they’ve spoken, or if she’s approached him, or if he confessed. For all I know, they could be fucking or fighting or talking about me. I’m in the dark, and I hate it.

Last night, Dean suggested that he move out, and I have to come to terms with how much that idea gutted me. I couldn’t stand the thought of it.

If Dean left today, could Briar and I return to what we had before? Would we be better off? How did we manage to fuck everything up in such a short amount of time?

My phone buzzes on my desk, and I flip it over to find a message from Briar. It’s a long text.

I’ve had a lot of time to think today, and I know you’ve probably been ruminating on this as well. I know that the guilt is eating away at you, and I know you have regrets about what happened.

So before you come home, I just want to write out everything in this message.

First, you should know that I forgive you for what happened.

We can talk more when you get home, but what we talk about will greatly depend on how you react to this video. I want you to know that this is not a form of revenge. I didn’t do this to spite you.

I think we both know that we are broken individually, and we’ve found someone who makes us feel whole again. I don’t think that means that our marriage is broken. If anything, I think it means our marriage is strong enough to endure what we are putting it through at this phase of our lives. Not a lot of couples could handle this, but you and I have been through worse, and I believe we will get through this.

With that said, I am still angry at you. I’m angry that there was an entire side of yourself I never got to see. That I never got to love. I’m angry that you experienced something so profound without me, and in turn, I experienced something profound without you.

Dean said you would enjoy watching this video, and I hope you do. If watching this only makes you feel jealous and bitter, then we have more work to do than I first thought. Something tells me that’s not how you’re going to feel.

I love you.

I’m staring, perplexed, at my phone as I read her message. None of it seems to make any sense until the video comes through and there, on a thumbnail image in the text message of my phone, is a picture of my wife naked on someone else’s bed.

I hit play, and the video pans down to show Briar with her legs spread and the tip of Dean’s cock pressed inside her.

Immediately my face flushes red hot as I hit the pause button. My chest starts to move in a deep, erratic, heaving motion as reality settles in.

She fucked Dean.

She fucked him, and they recorded it, and they sent me the recording. That’s what I’m about to watch. Quickly, I go back to her text message and read it again.

…what we talk about will greatly depend on how you react to this video.

If watching this only makes you feel jealous and bitter, then we have more work to do than I first thought.

Jealous and bitter. How am I not supposed to feel jealous and bitter about this?

Is this because of what I said last night? How I asked if she would fuck him if I let her? So, she actually did it?

I set my phone face down and take a moment to collect my thoughts. I have to force myself to take slow, deep breaths so I don’t lose it.

Is this how she felt when I told her what I had done with Dean? Even so, it’s not like I sent her a fucking video of it.

Still feeling worked up, I pick up my phone again. I turn down the volume so my secretary can’t hear it outside my office and hit play, this time letting the picture fill the screen.

“I’m ready,” Briar purrs through the video. Just the sight of his cock teasing her entrance has me feeling hot and strange. With one quick jerk, he fills her, and my cock twitches in my pants. A grunt escapes my chest at the sight. He starts moving slowly at first. His thrusts are powerful but erratic.

I can’t stop watching the movement of his hips. The way she reacts and the expression on her face. The longer I watch, the more enthralled I become. Until it feels like I’m in the room with them. Like they’re doing this for me.

Dean quickly switches positions, propping the camera up on something to show their whole bodies as he fucks her harder. I can’t deny the heat building inside me. I have to press pause to catch my breath, setting my phone down to adjust myself in my pants.

That’s my wife, my Briar. And he’s touching her, taking her, claiming her, pleasing her.

And I’m fucking furious about it. But at the same time… My God, it’s so hot. I rub my own cock through the fabric, groaning quietly from the sensation.

Then I can’t stop myself. I quickly unzip, undo the buckle, pull down my boxer briefs, and wrap my hand around the rigid length of my dick.

Pressing play on the video again, I watch as Dean flips my wife into a doggy-style position and slams into her. I’m stroking fiercely now, holding back the grunts and groans that want to come out because of the spectacle of such a depraved act. The two of them are both so exquisitely beautiful and sexy and mine.

They are mine.

That’s the thought in my head that moves my hand. That brings me pleasure. That makes me so close to coming I can taste it. Without even thinking, I tear open my office drawer, finding the black satin briefs I stashed there.

Dean presses his finger into my wife’s tight asshole as I drape his underwear across my face, stroking my cock and inhaling the scent of him.

And when she comes, I come.

I am depraved. I am lost to the passion of a video that should have me fuming instead of jacking off in my office like a pervert. I don’t know if I should feel ashamed or relieved, but this moment unlocks something carnal and filthy inside me. It turns off the part of my brain that overthinks and overanalyzes, that worries and stresses—and turns on the part that wants, craves, desires.

When did I start behaving like the kind of man who lets fear control his life? I got my wife. I fought for her. I won her. I get what I want.

And now, I know exactly what I want. Consequences or judgment be damned. I don’t care anymore. I don’t care who my father is or what kind of man I’m supposed to be.

They put the ball in my court when they sent me that video, and I know exactly what I’m going to do now.