The temptation of my brother-in-law-Chapter 56 - fifty six

Chapter Fifty-Six

Malachi’s POV

Dinner time came and the family gathered around the table. Sophie was talking non-stop about her first day at school.

"And then the teacher said I had really good handwriting," she said excitedly. "And at lunch, this girl named Emma shared her cookies with me. They were chocolate chips. My favorite."

"That’s wonderful, Sophie," Travis said, not really listening. He was looking at his phone under the table.

I watched Alicia instead. She was seated right next to me tonight. Closer than usual. Close enough that I could smell her perfume. Something light and floral that made me think of last night.

She was distracted, looking at her phone. Typing something. Her attention clearly elsewhere even as Sophie continued talking.

"The principal is really nice too," Sophie went on. "He came to our classroom and introduced himself. He knew everyone’s names already. Isn’t that cool?"

"Very cool," I said, though my eyes never left Alicia.

She shifted in her seat and I noticed her skirt. It was shorter than what she usually wore. The hem had ridden up slightly, exposing more of her thigh than was appropriate for a family dinner.

I gulped down hard.

I reached under the table casually and tugged the fabric down, covering her properly. My hand lingered for just a second on the smooth material before I pulled away.

Alicia stiffened but didn’t say anything. Didn’t look at me. Just kept her eyes on her phone.

A few minutes passed. Sophie was now talking about the library and all the books she’d found. The skirt had ridden up again.

I reached down and covered it once more. This time, my fingers brushed against her skin briefly. Accidentally. The contact sent heat through my hand.

She still didn’t react. Didn’t acknowledge what I was doing at all.

I swore to myself. One more time. If that skirt rode up one more time, I didn’t know if I could maintain this control. Didn’t know if I could keep my hands to myself.

Sophie asked Alicia a question. Alicia leaned forward slightly to answer, and the movement caused the skirt to shift upward again.

My hand moved before I could stop it. But this time, instead of just adjusting the fabric, my fingers reached out and curled around part of the warm flesh. My hold was firm. Possessive.

Alicia was shocked by something on her phone. Her eyes widened slightly and she sat up straighter. The movement finally brought her attention back to the table. To me.

Our eyes met for just a second. She knew. Knew what I’d been doing. What I’d been thinking.

I picked up my phone and typed out a message under the table. Sent it to her.

Her phone buzzed. She looked down at the screen, read my message.

"Meet me in my study after dinner. And change that skirt."

She didn’t respond. Just set her phone down and went back to eating. But I saw the slight flush on her cheeks. The way her breathing had changed.

Dinner felt like it lasted forever. Sophie kept talking. The family made their usual small talk. I ate, tasting nothing, thinking only about what would happen after.

Finally, it ended. People started leaving the table. Sophie went upstairs with one of the maids. Travis disappeared somewhere. The dining room slowly emptied.

I went to my study and waited.

Twenty minutes passed. Then thirty. I was starting to think she wouldn’t come. That she’d decided to avoid me again.

Then the door opened.

Alicia walked in wearing the same skirt. The same short skirt that had been driving me crazy all through dinner. And she had a smirk on her face. A knowing, challenging smirk that said she knew exactly what she was doing.

"You wanted to see me?" she asked innocently.

"I told you to change."

"I like this skirt." She closed the door behind her. "Is there a problem?"

There was definitely a problem. A big one. And she knew it.

"Sit down," I said, gesturing to the chair across from my desk. "We need to go over some paperwork."

It was a lie. There was no paperwork. But she played along. Sat down in the chair and crossed her legs. The skirt rode up again.

I pulled out my laptop and opened some random files. Pretended to be focused on work. She leaned forward to look at the screen, and I caught another glimpse of her thigh.

This woman was going to be the death of me.

"What am I looking at?" she asked.

"Company reports. I need your opinion on something."

Another lie. But she nodded and started reading. I watched her instead of the screen. Watched the way she bit her lip slightly when she concentrated. The way her fingers drummed against the armrest.

She shifted in her seat again. The skirt moved higher.

My hand gripped the edge of the desk. I wanted to touch her so badly. Wanted to pull her out of that chair and onto my lap. Wanted to show her exactly what that skirt was doing to me.

But I held back. Barely.

"Malachi," she said softly. "Are we actually working? Or is there something else?"

She knew. Of course she knew.

"We’re working," I said, my voice strained.

"Are you sure?" She stood up and walked around the desk. Closer to me. "Because it seems like you’re distracted."

She was right next to me now. Close enough to touch. That skirt still tantalizingly short.

I grabbed her wrist. Not hard, just enough to stop her from moving away.

"You’re playing a dangerous game, little bird."

"Am I?" Her smirk widened. "I’m just wearing a skirt."

"You know exactly what you’re doing."

"Maybe I do."

I smiled within myself. It seemed my little bird was finally coming to terms with what she wanted. Me.

"Sit back down," I said finally, releasing her wrist. "We have work to do."

She looked disappointed but obeyed. Sat back in the chair and pulled the laptop toward her. Started actually reading the reports on the screen.

That skirt. That damn skirt kept riding up every time she moved.

And I kept fighting the urge to do something about it.

I nodded, forcing my attention to the numbers, though my eyes flicked to her profile—the soft line of her jaw, the way her hair fell in loose waves over one shoulder.

"Show me the breakdowns," I replied. We talked for a while, debating the merits of different suppliers, the potential for expanding the fields. She was sharp, her insights cutting through the tedium, making the work almost enjoyable. But as she shifted in her chair to reach for a pen, her skirt rode up slightly, exposing her thigh. Pale skin, smooth and tempting, just above her knee.

She didn’t seem to care, continuing to jot notes in the margin. "If we renegotiate here," she said, tapping the page, "it could save us a tidy sum by harvest." To emphasize, she crossed her legs, and the fabric hiked higher, revealing more of her inner thigh. The muscle there flexed subtly, and I felt a stir in my groin, my cock twitching against the confines of my trousers.

I cleared my throat, trying to focus, but she uncrossed and recrossed her legs again, the motion pulling the skirt even further, now midway up her thigh. No stockings today—just bare skin that begged to be touched.

"Alicia," I said, my voice dropping an octave, "you’re making it hard to concentrate." She glanced at me, a small smile playing on her lips, but she played innocent, adjusting her position to lean over the desk. As she did, she braced one hand on the edge and stretched forward, her skirt bunching up at the back, exposing the full curve of her ass cheek and the underside of her thigh. The sight hit me like a punch—soft, rounded flesh, unmarked and inviting. My pulse quickened, blood rushing south, and I shifted in my seat to hide the growing bulge.

She straightened, oblivious or perhaps not, and moved to the side of the desk, bending slightly to retrieve a fallen pencil. Her skirt rode up again, this time flashing the shadow between her thighs, hinting at the heat there.

I couldn’t resist anymore. My hand moved of its own accord, reaching out to rest on her exposed thigh. Her skin was warm, silky under my palm, and she froze for a second, her breath catching. But she didn’t pull away. Instead, she turned her head, eyes meeting mine with a mix of surprise and desire.

"Malachi..." she whispered, but I shushed her gently with a finger to my lips. "You had your fun teasing me."

The study door was closed, My fingers squeezed her thigh, kneading the firm muscle, feeling it yield under my grip. She bit her lip, a soft exhale escaping, and leaned into the desk for support. I slid my chair back slightly, pulling her closer between my knees, my other hand joining the first to explore both thighs.

I squeezed harder, thumbs pressing into the soft inner flesh, tracing upward toward the hem of her skirt. Her legs parted just a fraction, inviting me higher. The skin there was even softer, warmer, and I could feel the faint tremor in her muscles as I massaged deeper, fingers digging in with controlled pressure. She gripped the edge of the desk, knuckles whitening, her chest rising and falling quicker now. I pushed the skirt up deliberately, bunching it around her hips, revealing her fully—thighs spread, the thin fabric of her undergarments peeking out, already damp at the center.

My cock strained painfully against my pants, throbbing with need, but I focused on her, on the way her body responded. I ran my hands along the length of her thighs, from knee to hip, squeezing the meaty parts, then the sensitive insides, brushing close to her core without touching. She shifted her weight, pressing her thighs together around my wrists, trapping my hands there. The heat from her pussy radiated through the air, and I inhaled deeply, catching her musky scent. "Keep working," I murmured low, my breath hot against her leg. "Tell me about the contracts."

She swallowed hard, picking up the pen with a shaky hand. "The... the tenants’ agreements," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper as I squeezed her thighs again, parting them wider with my knees. "We could extend terms... add incentives." Her words faltered as my fingers ventured higher, slipping under the edge of her undergarments. I hooked them aside, exposing her pussy—bare lips aching with arousal, clit peeking out swollen and ready.

But first, more teasing. I kept my hands on her thighs, gripping and releasing, watching the skin flush pink under my touch. I traced the crease where thigh met groin, squeezing the tender flesh there until she trembled. Her free hand clutched my shoulder for balance, nails digging in through my shirt. The desk creaked faintly as she leaned forward, pretending to study the papers, but her eyes were glazed, focused on the sensation. I could see the pulse in her neck, rapid and inviting, and I wanted to mark it, but restraint held me back.

Finally, I couldn’t wait. One hand stayed on her thigh, squeezing rhythmically, while the other slid between her legs. My fingers brushed her pussy lips, slick and hot, parting them easily. She was drenched, juices coating my fingertips as I rubbed along her slit, up to her clit and back down. A silent gasp parted her lips, her body arching slightly. I circled her clit with my thumb, light pressure at first, then firmer, feeling it harden under my touch. Her thighs quivered around my hand, muscles clenching as I worked her.

"Good girl," I breathed, my voice a rumble. "Keep talking." She tried, murmuring about yields and costs, but her words dissolved into soft breaths as I pressed a finger at her entrance. I pushed in slowly, her pussy walls gripping me tight, wet heat enveloping my digit. Inch by inch, I sank deeper, curling my finger to stroke the front wall, that spongy spot that made her knees buckle. She braced harder on the desk, her pen scratching meaningless lines on the paper.

I added a second finger, stretching her, pumping in and out with deliberate slowness. The sounds were obscene—wet squelches filling the quiet study, her arousal dripping down my hand. I squeezed her thigh with my free hand, hard enough to leave faint bruises, anchoring her as I thrust faster. Her clit throbbed under my thumb, and I pinched it lightly, rolling it between fingers slick with her juices. Her body tensed, hips rocking subtly against my hand, chasing the building pleasure.

I watched her face, the way her eyes fluttered shut, lips pressed tight to stifle any noise. The risk heightened it all—the door just feet away, the household alive beyond. My cock ached, pre-cum soaking my underwear, but this was for her, drawing out every silent shudder. I curled my fingers deeper, hitting that spot repeatedly, my thumb flicking her clit in rapid bursts. Her pussy clenched around me, walls fluttering, on the edge.

She came undone quietly, body shaking, juices flooding my hand as her orgasm ripped through her. I kept fingering her through it, prolonging the waves, squeezing her thigh to ground her. When she slumped against the desk, spent and panting silently, I withdrew my fingers, bringing them to my lips to taste her sweetness.

I pulled her onto my lap, leaned into her ear and whispered. "Next time, don’t tease me like that if you can’t handle what comes next."