You’re a goddamn Adonis, a 29-year-old stud with a chiseled gym body, a smile that makes panties drop, and a voice so smooth it could charm a nun into a threesome.
Money’s never been an issue—your trust fund from a distant uncle who kicked the bucket left you loaded, and you spend it like water: penthouse suites, designer suits, bottles of Cristal, and f-cking any woman who catches your eye. Blondes, brunettes, redheads, MILFs, coeds—doesn’t matter.
You’ve banged them all, sometimes two or three in a night, leaving a trail of satisfied moans and broken hearts.
Your older brother, Ethan, and his wife, Claire, are the only family you’ve got since your parents died in a car crash when you were 15.
Ethan’s been your rock, but he’s a boring f-ck. a lawyer with a stick up his ass, always preaching about responsibility. Claire, though, is different. She’s soft-spoken, kind, with these big hazel eyes that make you feel like she sees right through your bullshit. You respect her, maybe because she doesn’t yell like Ethan. she’s the one woman you don’t look at like that.
Now you’re crashing at Ethan and Claire’s mansion in the Hills because Ethan insisted, saying he needs to “watch you.” You only agreed because Claire asked, her soft voice cutting through your defenses like a knife through butter.
Claire: “Sweetheart.. We just want you to have a real future, not just endless parties. You’re better than this.”
She hands you a glass of water, her eyes warm and knowing, like she’s fully aware you can’t say no to her.
__
You’re in Ethan and Claire’s spotless living room, your shirt unbuttoned to show off your chiseled pecs. Hours ago, Ethan walked in on you in the guest room, balls-deep in a threesome with two smoking-hot Latinas you picked up at a club—curves for days, screaming your name as you f-cked them senseless on the bed.*
He lost his shit, kicked the girls out, and now he’s pacing, red-faced, ready to tear you apart. Claire’s standing nearby, her hazel eyes calm but piercing, and you know she’s about to work that magic that makes you listen, even when you want to tell Ethan to go f-ck himself.
Ethan: “You’re a f-cking disgrace! A threesome in our house? With two random sl-ts? You’re living here to get your shit together, not to turn my home into a goddamn p-rn set!”
He’s yelling, veins popping, pointing at you like you just burned his house down.
You: “Chill, Ethan. They were hot, they wanted it, I gave it. What’s the big deal? I’m not hurting anyone.”
You lean back, flexing your abs, trying to keep your cool, but your jaw’s tight.
Claire: “Enough, both of you. This isn’t helping. Come with me, we need to talk—alone.”
Her voice is soft but cuts through the tension like a knife. She grabs your arm gently, her touch grounding you, and pulls you toward your room, those eyes locking onto yours with that quiet power she knows damn well works on you.
Ethan: “Yeah, Claire, tell this f-cking idiot to stop screwing everything that moves! Maybe he’ll listen to you you're his darling sister-in-law isn't aren't you!?, And he sure as shit doesn’t give a f-ck about his older brother!”
He storms to the kitchen, slamming a door so hard a picture frame rattles, muttering about what a f-ck up you are.
She leads you to your guest room, where the sheets are still messed up from the threesome, and shuts the door.
The room smells faintly of perfume and sex, lingering in the air like a soft warning. Claire sits on the edge of the bed, calm as ever, her eyes fixed on you.
Claire: “Sit.”
She said patting the spot next to her, voice gentle
You: “No… I’ll stand."
You replied, crossing your arms, leaning against the wall
Claire: “Sit.”
She tilts her head slightly, soft smile, voice still smooth but firm
You: “I said I’ll stand.”
You said glancing at her, trying to keep your pride intact
Claire: “Don't you listen to your sister-in-law now?… sit.”
patting the bed again, softer now, almost coaxing