Arthur placed Alia down on the bed with deliberate slowness, like she was made of delicate porcelain—a treasure he intended to thoroughly inspect. His hands settled on her hips, fingers pressing just enough to remind her who was in control.
His sharp eyes drank her in, roaming up and down her body with the intensity of a connoisseur admiring a masterpiece.
"Hmmm..."
A low, thoughtful groan rumbled in his chest as he rubbed his chin, looking every bit like a pervy detective solving the horniest case of his life.
Alia shivered, her heart pounding as his fingers tightened on her hips.
"Does he even realize how much he's teasing ?"
No, he definitely did.
And he was enjoying every second of it.
Arthur bent down ever so slightly, his lips ghosting over her collarbone, his breath warm against her flushed skin. His hands wandered lower, fingertips skimming along her soft, supple thighs.
"Let take a good look," he murmured, voice dripping with mock innocence. "Do you feel pain here?"
His palms brushed the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs, his face hovering far too close to her chest.
Her breath hitched.
"N-not there..."
Arthur humd, amusent dancing in his darkened gaze.
"Little up, then?"
His hands glided upward, the heat of his touch sending delicious shivers up her spine.
The corners of his mouth twitched, barely restraining his smirk as he watched her reactions, watched the way she squird under his touch.
She swallowed hard. "Y-yes, higher... I can feel the pain."
His fingers paused, pressing lightly against the curve of her thighs, dangerously close to forbidden territory. Find your next read at My Virtual Library Empire
"Here?"
Her thighs clenched instinctively, squeezing together so tightly she could feel the ache deep in her core.
She was burning.
Dripping.
Desperate.
But nothing—nothing—was going to stop Arthur's slow, torturous exploration.
"H-higher..." she managed, her voice barely above a breathy whisper, the weight of sinful anticipation pressing down on her.
Arthur chuckled—low, dark, sinful—as his hands slid just a bit higher, fingers now hovering over the plush curve of her ass.
"Here?"
His fingers grazed the firm, tempting flesh, a featherlight touch that was infuriatingly insufficient.
Alia's breath stuttered, her entire body on edge, balancing between desperate need and agonizing restraint.
"H-higher..." she whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of her own sinful thoughts. She could practically feel her soul writing an apology letter to her husband.
Arthur humd, his fingers teasingly tracing over her sensitive skin. "Hmm, this is quite high," he mused, the deep timbre of his voice sending a shiver straight down her spine.
Then, with a smirk that should have been illegal, he added, "Let take a good look at it. Turn around, please."
Her breath caught.
"Y-yes."
She squeaked, obeying faster than she probably should have, her body moving on instinct, fueled by the heat pooling between her thighs.
Her mind was racing at a million miles an hour.
'Oh gods, my whole body is burning. My thighs feel weak… My pussy is so wet… What is he going to do…?'
The anticipation was torturous.
"Hmmm..."
Arthur's voice rumbled behind her as he crouched down, his breath hot against the back of her thighs. She bit her lip, stifling a gasp as goosebumps erupted over her flushed skin.
And then—he just… stayed there.
Hovering. Teasing.
Doing nothing—just breathing, just letting her wait, just letting the suspense coil around her body like a vice.
From this angle, she couldn't see what he was doing, and that only made it ten tis worse.
Her wild imagination filled in the blanks, painting images so explicit, so sinful, she should be praying for rcy.
'Is he staring? Is he admiring? Gods… does he like what he sees?'
Then—
"Here?"
She nearly jumped out of her skin when he suddenly poked a finger into the plush, generous—no, legendary—curve of her ass.
His touch was firm yet playful, his finger sinking into her soft flesh like it had just found a new ho.
She yelped, her whole body tensing, her voice a mix of shock, heat, and sothing she'd never dare admit.
"Y-yes, a little there," she stamred, feeling her face burn as she realized how utterly pathetic she sounded.
Arthur chuckled, low and knowing, his fingers gripping her hips possessively. "Oh my… then I should massage it a little. To see if it relieves your pain."
"O-oh, yes, please," she whimpered, her willpower crumbling like wet paper in a storm.
Honestly, even if she wanted to protest, her traitorous body had already thrown in the towel. Every nerve ending scread—
Yes, do it! Take to Ass Heaven!
And Arthur? Oh, he did.
The mont her weak-ass confirmation left her lips, his hands dove in like a starving man at an all-you-can-eat buffet, his fingers gripping her fat, bouncy cheeks like they were stress balls made by the gods themselves.
"O-oohh... t-this is... w-wow..."
She gasped, her voice getting higher, her breaths heavier, and her dignity circling the drain like a lost cause.
Arthur's fingers flexed, squeezing, kneading, molding her thick, perfect ass like a baker working overti on a fresh loaf of heaven.
"Do you like it?"
His voice was deep, teasing, but beneath that amusent was sothing hungry, sothing dangerous.
"You have such a nice and thick ass, sister-in-law."
She jerked, her entire body shuddering, a mix of humiliation, arousal, and sothing she couldn't quite na blooming inside her.
"Ah... n-no... don't say that. It's too embarrassing," she squeaked, her face redder than a tomato at a salsa contest.
Arthur smirked. "I'm only relieving your pain, sister in law."
His tone was smooth, almost professional—if professional ant sounding like the devil himself.
"H-ha ha, yes, yes you are," she choked out, barely holding on to her sanity as his fingers sank deeper, his grip firr, more possessive.
Her entire lower half felt like it was lting.
Arthur let out a low hum, his touch driving her insane, his voice purring like sin itself.
"My, my… Lady," he mused, his fingers tracing slow, torturous circles against her flesh. "Your skin is so soft… so smooth. And your scent..."
He trailed off dramatically, leaning in closer, closer—
Until—
His face was buried between her ass cheeks, inhaling her like a fine fucking wine.
"It's intoxicating."
Her knees nearly buckled.
"A-ahhh… i-is it…?"
Her voice wavered, barely above a whisper, her brain officially fried—no, not just fried—sizzling in a puddle of humiliation and sothing far, far less holy.
Never, in all her life, had she been molested like this.
Not even by her husband, who, compared to this shaless devil, now seed like a fucking saint.
'My ass is being sniffed like it's a fine vintage wine, and fuck if it's not making wetter than a goddamn waterfall.'
The thought slamd into her like a sledgehamr of pure, depraved realization.
'He's a total pervert... but shit, I'm worse for loving this.'
And then—
"Ah... ah..."
A moan—soft, broken, absolutely betraying every ounce of dignity she had left—slipped from her lips before she could even choke it down.
Arthur paused, his hands still firmly gripping her ass, his lips just a breath away from pressing deeper.
"Sister-in-law, are you okay?"
His voice dripped with faux concern, so blatantly mocking she could feel the smirk he wasn't even trying to hide.
His lips—hot, teasing, unforgivably slow—pressed soft, deliberate kisses onto the now thoroughly molested flesh of her ass cheeks.
"Oh gods..."
She whimpered, biting her lip so hard she thought she'd draw blood.
Spoiler: It didn't stop the filthy sounds spilling from her mouth.
Arthur's chuckle was low, husky, and absolutely sinful.
"What was that, sister-in-law?"
His mock innocence was so insultingly bad, it deserved a fucking award for Worst Acting in the Universe.
"N-no... I'm okay. This is... relieving. A-ang~"
Her words died on a moan so pure, so wanton, she might as well have just signed a contract with the devil.
Arthur's grin widened as he gave her ass a firm jiggle, watching the way her flesh bounced, the way she trembled under his touch.
"Hmmm, so responsive."
His thumbs dug into her cheeks, spreading them apart with a casual expertise that made her question every single life choice that led to this mont.
And then—
He buried his face deeper, nuzzling in like he was searching for the aning of life between her cheeks.
"Mmm, truly intoxicating."
The dress was barely shielding her now, a flimsy, useless piece of fabric that might as well have not existed.
And yet—did it even matter anymore?
Because at this point, her ass was basically swallowing his face, and judging by the low, shaless groans vibrating against her skin, he was enjoying every suffocating second.
His fingers tightened on her hips, his breath heavy, hot, and absolutely wicked as he indulged like a starved man feasting on his favorite al.
"Mmm... Gods, sister-in-law... how can your body be this addictive?"
Alia, anwhile, was teetering on the edge of a complete ntal breakdown—or an earth-shattering orgasm.
Honestly, at this point, she couldn't tell the fucking difference.
Her eyes clamped shut, her mouth biting back the shaless, sinful sounds clawing their way up her throat.
She couldn't let him know how much she was losing herself to this.
No fucking way.
'My ass is being groped by my husband's younger brother.'
Every rational thought told her to stop.
But her body?
Her treacherous, needy, soaking-wet body?
'This is so fucking wrong... but gods help , I don't want him to stop. This is the most exciting thing that's ever happened to .'
The realization hit her like a bolt of lightning, scorching her already burning nerves.
And just as she was about to salvage so semblance of control—
Arthur ruined her completely.
His hand slithered down, smooth and deliberate, like the serpent in the garden of sin.
His fingertips brushed the hem of her gown—so teasingly slow that she almost didn't notice...
Until he ripped it up.
One smooth, wicked motion.
And just like that—she was bare.
The cool night air kissed her now-exposed ass cheeks, sending a violent shiver up her spine.
She froze.
Mortified.
Aroused.
And—most dangerous of all—completely at his rcy.
Arthur let out a dark chuckle, his hands roaming, squeezing, kneading like he was molding her body for his pleasure.
"Mm. So beautiful… and so, so shaless."
His voice was low, amused, dripping with sinful delight.
She whimpered.
Because gods fucking help her—
He was right.
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