Lila’s thighs clenched so tight she could feel her soaked panties sticking obscenely to her swollen pussy lips as she stared through the glass door of Rhys Caldwell’s office. Her sister’s husband. The man who fucked Elena every night in their luxurious penthouse while Lila lay in her tiny apartment, three fingers buried knuckle-deep in her dripping cunt, moaning his name like a desperate whore in heat.

God, I’m so fucking disgusting, she thought, biting her lip until it hurt. But I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop.

She watched the way his tailored shirt stretched across his broad, muscular chest, the expensive fabric straining against hard muscle with...