The Wrong Sister

The Wrong Sister Part 3

Sunday wasn't a good day for me. Hangovers in my thirties had always been brutal, and this one was exacerbated by the feeling of confusion and hurt as I recalled what had happened between me and my brother-in-law. Another secret and sudden tryst had ended with an equally sudden shunning from Will as I had sought to bring him home with me.

It was the suddenness that I couldn't get my head around. The sex had somehow been even more incredible than his wedding, with what felt like an even more intense connection between the two of us. An unspoken understanding I couldn't even begin to describe. I was sure he must have felt something similar between us, that I knew him well enough that he wouldn't just fuck me and leave.

Until he did just that.

I could understand feeling guilty after what we'd done, but to just leave without a word? And, just to confuse me more, to kiss me before running off?

I remained part of the walking dead for most of Sunday, only leaving the house to go to the chemist and get another morning after pill to stop an unwanted pregnancy with Will. For a moment I considered going on birth control, but surely it wouldn't happen again. Especially after how he'd left me in the club.

Gabby and Jo returned from their weekend with their father in the early evening and I get a look of utter disdain from him for my shambolic appearance at the door. It flares anger within me that he'd judge me so, and I mouth a "fuck off" at him as I close the door and become a mother once more, rather than a jilted lover.

The hangover had numbed me I realised, and the dismissive look my ex had given me had kicked my feelings back into life. I considered what had happened in the club bathroom, and how Will had treated me, and I started to feel the anger I should have felt when he had walked away from me. I realised I should have chased after him and demanded answers, even though I knew that with the emotions and alcohol in play that would have been another mistake.

But God I wanted answers.

It was anger that would slowly bubble over the next few days as I stewed on these thoughts. The anger was created of the hurt at how Will had treated me, mixed with the feelings I had foolishly let myself have for him.

The concoction wasn't good for me. And I knew I needed to speak to him and find out why the idea of coming back to my empty house had made him run away from me as fast as he could manage. Even though I could probably guess why he did it, it's not something I want to acknowledge because it means understanding that I'm being selfish.

Long days, the stress of being a single mother and then painfully lonely nights exacerbate the anger I feel with Will. No longer do I whimper his name out into my dark bedroom as I lay in a tangle of sheets in a bed too big for just me. No, I don't whimper his name, but I can't stop thinking about him and how he had felt both times we've shared our bodies with each other.

By the end of the week, and with no contact from him, I am furious. At him. At myself. At the whole situation. Furious enough to do something stupid.

My shift is an early one on Friday, which means when I finish around two in the afternoon I have some time before I have to pick my daughters up from school. The anger has festered, my thoughts full of cackling ghosts telling me that he's laughing at his older sister-in-law for letting him fuck her twice now. How he's laughing with Hannah at how pathetic I am for giving him my body so easily.

Rationally I know it's not the case - I know Will. I like Will. But those memories were distorted with this new, nasty version in my head, and I needed to see the real one to siphon the poison that was beginning to harm me so. And ask him what the fuck he thought he was playing at.

As Hannah is a teacher, and Will works from home as an architect, I knew he'd be alone. He must have some kind of sixth sense, because when I pull up onto his driveway and get out of my car, he's stood on the threshold to his house looking pensive.

And so he fucking should be.

"We need to talk," I growl, striding past him and into his house, kicking off my shoes in his hallway because I know how his wife feels about stains on her pristine carpets. Apparently I respect Hannah enough to not traipse dirt through her house, but not to stop her husband from fucking me in a club bathroom.

Their living room is bright and airy, with bright white walls decorated with gorgeous golden picture frames of the wedded couple. I pause for a moment on my way through the room, looking at the large picture of Will holding Hannah in his arms on their wedding day. Both wear beautiful smiles, and I bitterly think they're as fake as the vows they'd shared. Vows as hollow as I had felt for the past week.

I quickly move into the kitchen and dining area and place my handbag on one of the dining chairs as I wait for Will to appear, pacing with my head down as I hear the slow shuffle of feet in the living room grow louder. I look up as he enters and acknowledge him properly for the first time since I've arrived. And I'm surprised to see that, for once, Will doesn't look great. There are bags under his eyes and a slump to his shoulders, and if I was to take a guess, it would be that he wasn't sleeping well.

For a moment I feel the tiniest pang of guilt, but I quickly bury it under the self-righteous fury I've accumulated and start my tirade.

"What the fuck happened? Eh? Do you want to give me a fucking reason why you just left me on Saturday night?"

Will doesn't look at me, his eyes focused on the kitchen window and his arms tight across his chest. I know he's taking time to reply because I know he's the sort to consider his response to an important question. But I'm not in a patient mood, so when I bark a "Well?" at him, it draws his eyes to mine and I see a flash of frustration in them.

"I'd have thought that was quite clear. I shouldn't have even accepted the offer in the first place. It was a mistake."

"A mistake?!" I almost shout. "A mistake to fuck me twice?"

"No," Will sighs, hand reaching up to rub his face wearily. "No that's not what I meant Izzy. I meant... fuck I don't know what I meant. I mean it was a mistake, wasn't it? You said as much before the club that we shouldn't have done it, and then you asked me back to yours!"

"And you happily fucked me again!" I snap at him, hands curled into fists at my side. "You didn't have to say yes."

"And what would have happened if I'd said no?" he demands of me, and now it's my turn to look away and contemplate what might have happened. His sarcastic mimicry of my impatient "Well?" doesn't improve my mood though, and my nostrils flare as I look back at him angrily.

"Maybe I shouldn't have asked," I say darkly. "But you put the idea into my head that you wanted more. You said it was a shame that you didn't make me cum. So I guess you can tick that off your fucking bucket list now, can't you? Is that it? Fuck me one more time to add a notch onto your bedpost and then fuck me off?"

I hate how my voice sounds - so bitter and hate-filled for someone I have been so close to in the past. And I hate how Will practically recoils from it, from me, as I throw those words at him. "That's not it at all Izzy," he replies weakly, but I'm too full of myself now and steamroller over him.

"No? Because that's how it looks. Just a hole in which to get your dick wet. Was that all it was?"

"No!" Will says forcefully, breathing heavily now and looking slightly pale. "If I went back with you, then what? I fuck you some more, probably. And after that... what? Like... What am I doing to you? What am I offering you other than pain down the road? And what about Hannah too - you said yourself she doesn't deserve this. I shouldn't have even gone into that bathroom with you but... fuck Izzy you looked so good."

"So that's it then - you only fucked me because I was dressed up?"

Will sighs, exasperated with my argumentative nature. I watch him roll his eyes and then see the anger and frustration return to his facial features, and I wonder whether I am pushing him too far. Certainly his tone shifts when he replies, now more of a growl of warning.

"You know that's not it Izzy. You know how..." he starts, then with a pained look on his face he shakes his head, as if convincing himself not to say something. "Look, I told you why. I told you why I couldn't go home with you."

I'm too angry to listen, and too hurt to care. "Yeah, you used me once and got what you wanted when I was dressed up pretty for you." I snap. "But when I've come off a long shift and my hair is a mess, you don't give a fuck."

"Izzy!" Will roars, grabbing my shoulders and pushing me against the kitchen wall. In that instant I know a moment of fear, wondering whether I've gone too far. "I never wanted to use you." he says, voice dark and menacing. It's a side of Will I've never seen before, but not one I'm scared of.

There's a pause, both of us breathing heavily as we consider our next words. I manage to get mine out before he does.

"Maybe I want to be used," I hiss at him, chin tilted defiantly upwards as I meet his eyes. It's a gaze we hold for what feels like forever until we both move at the same time, kissing one another recklessly.

There is nothing gentle about the kiss. There was too much heat in our argument for it to be anything other than passionate, almost angry kissing. This was a release for both of us, obvious from the way he gripped my hair in his strong hands and the way mine slid all over his strong torso.

"What don't you fucking get?" he rasps between kisses. "What don't you understand about how I feel and how hard that is for me?"

I don't answer, instead switching places and pressing him against the wall, letting my hands slide under his t-shirt and feeling his stomach clench at my touch. I know I should respond, that I should ask what he means by that, but it's easier to be selfish. Even easier when he grabs my behind and pulls me against him, his arousal pressed against my body.

There's nothing sexy about my nurse's uniform - light, loose fitting scrubs have never been attractive. But Will somehow makes me feel wanted with the way his hands move along my body up to my breasts which he kneads with a groan that I share with him. It's a groan I soon understand to be his resolve breaking as he grabs the hem of my top and pulls it above my head.

We're doing this. Right here, in his kitchen. He presses against my shoulder and I start to step backwards, Will guiding me to where I know his kitchen table is. When I feel the heavy oak press against my ass the kiss breaks and when I meet his eyes there is something so feral in them. Not just his eyes, but his touch too - shown by the way he rips the straps of my red bra down from my shoulders until my heavy breasts spill free.

I yelp loudly when he pulls me up and twists me around so that I'm facing away from him, hands planted on the varnished finish of the table. In one quick motion he pulls down my scrubs bottoms and panties and then I hear the sound of his belt being undone.

"You wanna be used huh?" he hisses into my ear and I grind my ass back against him.

"Yes," I lie. And I know I'm lying and he must know I am too because Will hesitates for just a moment. Because we both know this does nothing other than make things worse for both of us. But I can't quit him, or stop thinking about how he makes me feel.

I just wish I understood how he was feeling.

When he doesn't immediately start fucking me when his jeans are down around his ankles I twist my head around and glower at him. "I said use me!" I snarl, and the softer, more familiar features of my brother-in-law that had momentarily reappeared turn dark. One hand is on his hard cock. The other has my messy hair in a death grip. And then he plunges hard, fast and deep into my pussy.

The noise I make comes from deep, a low and long guttural moan which is quickly followed by something louder when Will quickly slams back into me. He has me forced down against the table, so that my tosro is flat against it and my body is completely at his disposal. Which is what I told him I wanted, even if this wasn't quite what I had envisaged.

"I'll fucking use you then," I hear him say through clenched teeth as his hips slowly slap against my ass. "If that's all you fucking want then I'll use you. I'll fuck you raw if that's what you want."

There is something so different about this time with him. Not just the fact that we're sober for the first time, but the way he is with me. I know that it's down to how I've acted, and how I've pushed his buttons. Maybe if I hadn't been so angry, and listened to him properly, then this wouldn't have happened. Or at least it would have happened where our emotions weren't as raw as the sex we were having.

My body is splayed across the table with my hair still gripped in his hand, not at all unpleasantly, as Will grunts behind me and continues to use me as good as he said he would. Each time he's at his deepest he forces a deep moan out of me, his cock better than anything my imagination and toys can come up with. Especially when he yanks me back against him, lifting me from the table and pushing my breasts together with his large hands.

I turn my head to look up at him, my hands reaching back behind and holding onto his firm body tight. Will isn't looking at me though, purposely so from the way he looks dead ahead with a glazed over look in his eyes. I whimper his name, but he doesn't look at me until I call out to him for a second time.

His jaw is tight, and his lips are thin. And he doesn't stop his relentless assault on my pussy, his rhythm set and almost robotic in how it doesn't deviate from the pace he's set. This isn't something he's even enjoying. And I know I'm not either - I can't enjoy him unless he's enjoying me.

"I'm... sorry. I'm so... sorry."

I don't know what makes me say it. Maybe he'd fucked some understanding of how he was feeling into me. But as I said those words I finally knew what he was feeling. The position that he was in between my sister and me. And I finally admit to myself that it's not just sex to him - this hurts because he shares the same feelings I do.

Will slows down and his face softens, and when he kisses me again it's softer than it had been before, his hand that had been holding my hair so tightly now a gentle touch against my rosy cheek. I let my hand slide into the short hair at the back of his head and look at him as I finally stop being used, and instead work with him by grinding my ass back against his thrusts.

"Izzy," he breathes, and it's said with such deference that the syllables feel like ambrosia from the gods. I whimper his name back at him, a whimper that turns into a groan when his talented fingers tease around my nipples and then pinch them with the most exquisite of touches.

As good as his touch is, the table reminds me of how this had happened for all the wrong reasons, and I want to change that. "Against the wall," I breathe, and Will quickly pulls out of me and leads me to where we'd first started this session. He lifts one leg, pulls it aside, and gracefully sheathes himself back into my welcoming pussy.

Our heads press together, eyes locked on the other as he glides in and out of me. The hand that isn't holding me up caresses my left breast while I squeeze his firm ass and feel the muscles flex as he pushes deep into me. My other hand runs up and down his athletic torso under his shirt, the heat of which feeling as good as he'd felt every other time we'd shared one another.

To my surprise he turns us around so that his back is pressed against the wall. His strong arms hold me easily and his wonderfully infectious smile shows me that he wants me to do some of the work. I grind my hips down onto his cock, feeling his swollen head so deep inside me.

"Does someone like that?" I groan, big tits brushing against his chest as I wrap an arm around his shoulders to stabilize myself against him.

"You have no idea."

The two of us laugh then, and for a moment we're just lovers out of the context of how badly we are acting in doing this once more. It's not something either of us are aware of though, not then as I grip to the wooden beam above us for some added balance. This seems to turn Will on even more, his face lighting up as we fuck slow and hard, his mouth moving from kissing my neck to nipping at my heavy breasts.

With my nub brushing against him so sweetly, it's not long until I feel the sweet ache of release approaching. I start to move faster, Will gripping my ass and helping me to slide up and down his long, hard shaft. His grunts fill up my senses and I gasp in short, sharp bursts just as my pussy clenches around his cock.

My pussy is still clenching hard around his dick when I get the relatively familiar sensation of him spilling his cum deep into me once more. I let out a low guttural moan of completion as he joins me in this bliss we've created, especially when his strong arm wraps around me to hold me close, and my arms wrap around his to join him in the perfect, short-lived union.

It's not just the post-coital lull that makes me want to stay wrapped in his arms. No man should feel this good. Especially when that man married my sister.

"Is that what you came round for?" he whispers into my ear and after a moment's hesitation I shake my head.

"I was hurt and I wanted to shout at you. I can't help it if I want to jump your bones at almost any opportunity."

Will chuckles and slides his hands reverently from my body, then pulls away, his manhood leaving my pussy full once more and I know, again, that I need to go to the pharmacy. I look up at him then as I start to pull up my bra.

"Do I... need to go on the pill?"

The implication in my question is immediately understood. Are we having an affair? Will hands me my scrub top and then takes my hand gently in his, his eyes and face soft and caring and full of the painful truth I know he's about to give me.

"Izzy I can't. It's killing me to do this. I barely sleep because thinking about you just... confuses me. And I'll never get over you if we keep having mind-blowing sex."

It's like being punched with a velvet glove. Getting over me he says, while at the same time telling me that this can't go on. I hide my hurt briefly behind the top I'm pulling over my head so that when I poke through the hole I'm smiling easily, like he's not just inadvertently snapped my heart like a twig.

"No, of course. I get it. I do. I don't want to hurt you. Confuse you."

My voice feels fragile and Will hears it. Of course he does. He's seen me at some of my lowest moments and his nature has made me more open with him over the years - more so than so many other people in my life. I'd hidden all that up until his wedding day when it had revealed itself to us both at entirely the worst time.

I pull on my panties and bottoms, dressed once more even as his seed starts to soak into my underwear. "Please understand," he continues. "It's not that I don't want to share what we have shared. But... I married your sister. And... she doesn't deserve this."

Standing before him, I reach up and touch his face which he leans into and closes his eyes. I cannot force him into more and I wouldn't want to. So there are no words for me to say to him for two reasons - firstly because silence is what he needs to hear to what he's said. And secondly because I don't trust my voice not to betray me and show how devastated I truly am about his well-meaning rejection.

Sighing, I step away and get my bag, checking my phone for the time as I know I need to go and pick the girls up. It's then I see five missed calls from Hannah and a missed call from my father.