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He chuckled.

His fingers kept moving. My heart felt like it wanted to jump out of my chest.

“Now you lying.”

“Fuck you.”

“You keep saying that.”

His mouth curved.

“I might have to bend ya ass over yo kitchen table.”

My stomach tightened.

Because he wasn’t looking away.

That was what fucked with me.

At Playroom, there had been liquor. Music. Darkness. People everywhere doing shit that made what we were doing feel almost normal.

There wasn’t shit normal about this.

This was my living room.

My kids were upstairs.

There were family pictures on the wall behind Levin’s fucking head.

And I was standing here letting my husband’s brother play with my fuckin clit.

He changed it.

Two fingers now. Firmer. Pressing right where I couldn’t pretend I didn’t feel it.

I grabbed his arm.

“Shit.”

His mouth came close to my ear.

“What if I just slip one finger in this time?” he whispered.

My eyes snapped to his.

“Nigga—”

He did it.

One finger. Slow. In.

I bit down on the sound trying to come out.

“Daaamn, Sam. You get this wet for your husband?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“You telling me to shut up but you ain’t telling me to stop.”