The Wager: A Forbidden Sibling Bet

Jack Blackwood stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows of his luxury penthouse apartment, overlooking the sprawling campus of Westfield University below. The autumn afternoon cast golden rays across the manicured lawns where students lounged in various states of undress, enjoying the last warm days before winter descended. His piercing blue eyes tracked the movements of a particular group of cheerleaders practicing their routines, their taut young bodies bending and stretching in ways that made his cock stir beneath his designer jeans.

At twenty-four, Jack was older than most undergraduates, having taken a gap year to travel Europe and build his already substantial portfolio. His parents, tech billionaires who had died in a tragic yacht accident three years prior, had left him and his younger sister Madison an obscene amount of wealth that rendered traditional concerns about education moot. Yet Jack remained enrolled, treating university as his personal hunting ground for fresh, innocent flesh to corrupt and conquer.

The apartment door swung open with a dramatic flourish, and Madison Blackwood swept inside like a hurricane of expensive perfume and sexual confidence. At twenty-two, she was the female mirror of her brother—same raven-black hair that cascaded in silken waves to her waist, same piercing blue eyes that seemed to look through people rather than at them, same aristocratic features that turned heads wherever she went. Where Jack favored dark, tailored clothing that emphasized his broad shoulders and lean muscular frame, Madison wore a barely-there crimson dress that clung to her voluptuous curves like a second skin, the hem riding high enough to reveal the lace tops of her thigh-high stockings.

"Brother dear," she purred, dropping her Chanel handbag onto the Italian leather sofa with casual disregard for its five-figure price tag. "I see you're engaging in your favorite pastime—ogling women who don't know you're undressing them with your eyes."

Jack didn't turn from the window, though a smirk played at the corners of his perfectly sculpted lips. "And I see you're dressed like a high-class escort preparing for a very busy evening. Business good, little sister?"

Madison laughed, a throaty sound that sent an involuntary shiver down Jack's spine. She moved to the wet bar, pouring herself two fingers of thirty-year-old scotch without asking if he wanted any. She knew her brother's habits better than he knew them himself—the result of growing up in a household where the hired help raised them while their parents attended to more important matters like empire-building and substance abuse.

"I've been thinking about our little arrangement," Madison said, swirling the amber liquid in her crystal tumbler. "The bets are getting stale. Seducing professors, stealing panties from sorority girls, making virgins cry—it's all become so pedestrian, don't you think?"

Jack finally turned from the window, his interest genuinely piqued. The "arrangement" Madison referred to had begun three years ago, born from mutual boredom and the realization that they were the only two people in the world who truly understood each other. Their competitive games had evolved from childhood dares into increasingly sexual wagers that pushed boundaries neither sibling cared to acknowledge existed.

"What did you have in mind?" Jack asked, accepting the drink his sister pressed into his hand. Their fingers brushed, and neither pulled away immediately. The electricity between them had always been palpable, a current they'd spent years pretending not to notice.

Madison's eyes gleamed with mischief as she settled onto the sofa, crossing her legs in a way that caused her dress to ride up dangerously high. Jack caught a glimpse of bare flesh above her stockings—no panty line visible—and felt his cock twitch with interest despite his best efforts to maintain composure.

"There's a new teaching assistant in the English department," Madison began, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Elizabeth Hart. Twenty-three, freshly graduated from some conservative Christian college in the Midwest. She's here pursuing her master's degree while teaching freshman composition to horny eighteen-year-olds who can't string together a coherent sentence."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Sounds tedious. What's your point?"

"My point," Madison continued, leaning forward so her cleavage threatened to spill from her dress, "is that Elizabeth is saving herself for marriage. True love's first kiss, white wedding dress, missionary position with the lights off—the whole nauseating package. She's been quite vocal about it in faculty mixers, apparently. A real challenge for someone with your... particular skills."

Understanding dawned on Jack like sunrise over the ocean—slow at first, then all at once brilliant and blinding. "You want me to seduce the virgin teaching assistant."

"I want you to ruin her," Madison corrected, her voice taking on an edge of cruelty that made Jack's blood heat. "Completely and thoroughly. Take that precious virginity she's been hoarding like a dragon guarding gold. Make her scream your name, beg for your cock, abandon every principle she's ever held dear. And I want proof—video evidence that you've turned good little Elizabeth into a cock-hungry slut who can't think of anything but getting fucked by her big, bad student."

Jack felt his arousal growing, thickening against his thigh as he imagined the scenario. Corruption had always been his favorite aphrodisiac, and the thought of being the first man to breach Elizabeth Hart's untouched pussy made his mouth water. But he knew his sister well enough to recognize there was more to this proposal.

"And the stakes?" he asked, his voice rough with barely suppressed desire. "What do I get when I succeed? And what happens if I fail?"

Madison stood, moving close enough that Jack could smell her perfume—something dark and musky with undertones of vanilla and sex. She reached out and traced the outline of his erection through his jeans, her touch feather-light yet electric. Jack inhaled sharply but didn't pull away.

"If you succeed," she whispered against his ear, her warm breath sending shivers down his spine, "you get to do something you've wanted since you were sixteen years old. Something I know you fantasize about when you think I'm asleep, when you stroke your big hard cock in your bedroom at night."

She pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, and Jack saw his own darkest desires reflected in her gaze. "You get to fuck me, brother. Any way you want. My mouth, my pussy, my ass—whatever sick, depraved thing you've imagined doing to your little sister, you can do it. No limits. No safe words. Just you and me, finally crossing that line we've been dancing around for years."

Jack's heart hammered against his ribs, his cock now fully erect and straining against his zipper. The thought of burying himself in Madison's tight, forbidden flesh had fueled countless orgasms over the years, though he'd never admitted it aloud. To hear her offer it so casually, so deliberately, made his head spin.

"And if I fail?" he managed to ask, though his voice sounded distant and strange to his own ears.

Madison's smile turned predatory, her fingers still tracing patterns on his trapped erection. "If you fail to seduce Elizabeth within thirty days—thirty days to take her virginity and document the act—then you become my property for an entire semester. My personal slave, my toy, my bitch. You'll do everything I say, wear what I tell you to wear, service whoever I command you to service. And to seal the bargain..."

She reached into her handbag and withdrew something that made Jack's blood run cold—a thick, black silicone cock, easily ten inches long and monstrously wide, attached to a leather harness. The strap-on dildo gleamed ominously in the afternoon light, its veined surface promising both pleasure and pain.

"I'll fuck you with this," Madison said softly, almost lovingly. "Your mouth, your ass—whenever I want, however I want. You'll learn what it means to submit completely, brother dear. You'll learn what it feels like to be the one getting fucked."

The image burned itself into Jack's mind—him on his knees, submitting to his sister's artificial cock, taking it deep while she laughed and degraded him. Part of him recoiled in horror, but another part, darker and more hidden, felt a thrill of perverse excitement at the thought of such total surrender.

"Thirty days," he repeated, his voice steady despite the chaos in his mind. "Starting when?"

"Starting now," Madison replied, producing her phone and opening the camera app. "Say the words, Jack. Accept the wager."

Jack looked into his sister's eyes and saw the same hunger that consumed him—the need to push boundaries, to transgress, to claim the one thing society said they could never have. He thought of Elizabeth Hart, the innocent teaching assistant waiting unknowingly in her ivory tower. He thought of Madison's body, finally within reach if he succeeded. And he thought of failure, of submitting to that black monstrosity, of being broken and remade in his sister's image.

"I accept," he said, and Madison's camera flashed, capturing the moment forever.

Jack spent the first three days researching his target with the same intensity he'd once applied to corporate takeovers. Elizabeth Hart proved to be exactly as Madison had described—a paragon of virtue wrapped in a package that made his mouth water. She stood five-foot-six with honey-blonde hair that fell in soft waves to her shoulders, framing a heart-shaped face dominated by large hazel eyes that seemed to see the good in everyone. Her figure was modest but appealing—full breasts that strained against her conservative blouses, a narrow waist that flared into hips made for gripping, and legs that seemed to go on forever beneath her knee-length skirts.

She lived in a small apartment near campus, attended church every Sunday without fail, volunteered at an animal shelter on weekends, and maintained a carefully curated social media presence filled with inspirational quotes about purity and patience. She had no boyfriend, no history of romantic involvement that Jack could uncover, and seemingly no interest in changing either status.

On the fourth day, Jack enrolled in her freshman composition section as an "auditing student," citing a desire to improve his writing skills for business communications. Elizabeth had been surprised to find a graduate-age student in her class of teenagers, but her natural warmth made her welcoming rather than suspicious.

"Mr. Blackwood," she'd said after their first session, her handshake firm and professional despite the way her eyes lingered on his face. "I must say, I'm curious why someone with your... background would be interested in freshman composition."

Jack had deployed his most charming smile, the one that had opened doors and unfastened bras across three continents. "Call me Jack, please. And honestly, Ms. Hart? I've spent so much time learning to write quarterly reports and marketing analyses that I fear I've forgotten how to write like a human being. I thought a return to basics might help me reconnect with the craft."

Elizabeth's smile had been genuine, if cautious. "That's actually quite insightful. Most people think writing is about big words and complex sentences, but the best writing is simple and true."

"Simple and true," Jack had repeated, holding her gaze a fraction too long. "I like that. I hope you'll help me find that truth, Ms. Hart."

"Elizabeth," she'd corrected, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. "We're informal here."

The game was afoot.

Over the next two weeks, Jack executed a campaign of seduction so subtle and thorough that Elizabeth never saw the net closing around her. He arrived early to every class, engaging her in conversations about literature and life that revealed her intelligence and depth. He stayed late, offering to help organize her papers or carry boxes of textbooks to her office. He learned her coffee order—oat milk latte with a dash of cinnamon—and began bringing her one every morning, claiming he'd grabbed an extra by mistake.

He discovered her weaknesses through careful observation: she loved classic literature but felt guilty reading anything that wasn't "improving"; she played piano but hadn't touched one since leaving home; she missed her family in Iowa but was determined to prove she could make it on her own. Jack fed each vulnerability, bringing her first editions of Austen and Brontë, arranging access to the university's private music rooms, creating situations where she had to accept his help and company.

By day fourteen, Elizabeth was seeking him out rather than waiting for him to approach. They developed a routine of meeting at a quiet café near campus after her last class, discussing everything from poetry to politics while Jack carefully dismantled her defenses. He never touched her inappropriately, never spoke suggestively, never did anything that could be construed as untoward. Instead, he became her confidant, her friend, the person she looked forward to seeing each day.

And all the while, he documented everything.

Hidden cameras in his apartment captured their conversations when he invited her over for "study sessions." His phone recorded their coffee shop chats under the guise of taking notes. He built a portfolio of evidence showing Elizabeth's growing attachment, her increasing comfort with his presence, the way her eyes lingered on his mouth when he spoke.

But as day twenty approached without significant physical progress, Jack began to worry. Elizabeth was warm and receptive to his company, but she maintained careful boundaries—no lingering hugs, no late nights alone, no conversations that veered into romantic territory. She spoke of her faith and her values with genuine conviction, and Jack realized that seducing her would require more than charm and persistence. It would require making her want to abandon everything she believed in.

The breakthrough came on day twenty-two, during a thunderstorm that trapped them together in his apartment. Elizabeth had come over to borrow a book, and the sudden downpour made driving dangerous. Jack offered her wine while they waited for the storm to pass, and Elizabeth—normally abstemious—accepted a glass.

"This is nice," she said, curled up on his sofa with her stockinged feet tucked beneath her. The wine had brought color to her cheeks, and her hair had begun to escape its careful arrangement. "I don't usually... I mean, I don't spend much time in men's apartments. Or drinking wine on weekday afternoons."

"Rules are important," Jack said carefully, pouring her a second glass. "But so is knowing when to break them. Life can't be lived entirely by the book, Elizabeth. Sometimes you have to trust your feelings, even when they scare you."

Elizabeth looked at him then, really looked at him, and Jack saw something shift in her expression—a crack in the armor of her virtue, a glimpse of the passionate woman hidden beneath the modest blouses and careful speech.

"Do you ever get scared?" she asked softly. "Of what you want?"

"Every day," Jack admitted, and for once he wasn't lying. "There are things I want that I know I shouldn't. Desires that go against everything society tells me is right. But I've learned that denying those desires doesn't make them disappear. It just makes them stronger."

The storm raged outside, lightning illuminating the room in flashes of silver. Elizabeth set down her wine glass and stood, moving to the window to watch the rain. Jack followed, standing close behind her—close enough to smell her shampoo, to feel the heat radiating from her body.

"Jack," she whispered, not turning around. "I don't know what I'm doing. I've never... I've never felt like this. Like I can't breathe properly when you're near. Like I want things I shouldn't want."

Jack placed his hands on her shoulders, feeling her tremble at his touch. "Tell me what you want, Elizabeth. Tell me what you need."

She turned then, and her eyes were wet with unshed tears. "I want you to kiss me. God help me, I want you to kiss me so badly it hurts."

Jack didn't hesitate. He cupped her face in his hands and brought his mouth to hers, claiming her lips in a kiss that was both tender and demanding. Elizabeth made a sound somewhere between a whimper and a moan, her body going rigid before melting against him. Her lips were soft and warm, tasting of wine and innocence, and Jack felt his arousal surge as she tentatively kissed him back.

He deepened the kiss slowly, giving her time to pull away, to object, to remember her vows. But Elizabeth only clung tighter, her fingers gripping his shirt as she opened her mouth to his probing tongue. Jack explored her sweet warmth, teaching her how to kiss with growing confidence, his hands sliding down to cup her waist and pull her flush against his hardening cock.

"Jack," she gasped when they finally broke apart, her chest heaving. "I shouldn't... we shouldn't..."

"Shh," Jack soothed, tracing her swollen lips with his thumb. "Just feel. Don't think, don't analyze. Just feel what your body wants."

He kissed her again, more aggressively this time, backing her against the window until her body was trapped between the cool glass and his heated flesh. Elizabeth's hands found his chest, sliding upward to tangle in his hair, and Jack took this as permission to explore further. His hands roamed her curves, cupping her breasts through her blouse, finding her nipples hard and eager beneath the fabric.

"Oh god," Elizabeth moaned, arching into his touch. "That feels... I've never..."

"Let me show you," Jack murmured against her neck, where he was pressing open-mouthed kisses to her racing pulse. "Let me show you how good it can be. How good I can make you feel."

He unbuttoned her blouse with practiced efficiency, revealing a white lace bra that did little to conceal her straining nipples. Jack wasted no time unfastening the clasp and freeing her breasts, groaning at the sight of her pink, perfect flesh. He lowered his head and took one nipple into his mouth, sucking hard while Elizabeth cried out and gripped his hair tightly.

"Please," she begged, though Jack wasn't sure what she was begging for. "Please, Jack, I can't... it's too much..."

He switched to her other breast, giving it the same treatment while his hand slid down her body to find the hem of her skirt. Elizabeth stiffened when his fingers brushed her thigh, but she didn't stop him as he pushed upward, finding the damp cotton of her panties and pressing against her covered mound.

"You're wet," Jack observed, his voice rough with desire. "Your body knows what it wants, even if your mind is confused. You're soaked for me, Elizabeth. Tell me you want me to touch you. Tell me you want me to make you cum."

Elizabeth's eyes were glazed, her lips parted as she panted for breath. "Yes," she whispered. "Yes, please. Touch me, Jack. Make me... make me feel good."

Jack pushed her panties aside and found her virgin pussy slick and hot, her folds swollen with arousal. He explored her gently, circling her clit with his thumb while he pressed one finger against her entrance. Elizabeth was tight—incredibly tight—and Jack felt a surge of possessive satisfaction at the thought of being the first to stretch her, to fill her, to make her his.

"Jack!" she cried out as he slid his finger inside her, her body clamping down on the intrusion. "Oh god, oh god, that feels..."

"Relax," he coached, working his finger deeper while his thumb continued to circle her clit. "Let yourself open up. Let me in, Elizabeth. Let me show you what you've been missing."

He fingered her slowly, building her arousal with careful precision, watching her face for every reaction. When he found the rough patch of her G-spot, Elizabeth's eyes flew open and she gasped, her hips bucking involuntarily. Jack smiled and focused his attention there, crooking his finger while increasing the pressure on her clit.

"Come for me," he commanded. "Let go and come for me, Elizabeth. I want to feel you cum on my hand."

It didn't take long. Elizabeth had been wound tight for weeks, her attraction to Jack building with every conversation, every shared laugh, every accidental touch. Now the floodgates opened, and she came with a cry that was almost a scream, her body convulsing as her virgin pussy spasmed around Jack's invading finger.

Jack held her through it, kissing her face and neck as she trembled, keeping his finger inside her to feel every aftershock. When she finally stilled, he withdrew slowly and brought his finger to his mouth, sucking her juices from it while she watched with dazed eyes.

"You taste incredible," he said. "I need more. I need to taste you properly."

Before Elizabeth could respond, Jack lifted her onto the wide windowsill, spreading her legs wide and dropping to his knees before her. Her skirt bunched around her waist, her panties pushed aside to reveal her glistening pussy, pink and swollen and utterly exposed. Jack groaned at the sight and dove in, lapping at her folds with long, greedy strokes of his tongue.

"Jack! Oh my god, what are you... oh god!"

Elizabeth's head fell back against the glass as Jack ate her pussy with single-minded devotion. He circled her clit with the tip of his tongue, then sucked it into his mouth, alternating between gentle licks and firm pressure. He pushed his tongue inside her, fucking her with it while she writhed and moaned above him, her hands gripping his hair with desperate strength.

"Please," she chanted, her hips rolling against his face. "Please, please, please..."

Jack added his fingers, sliding two into her tight channel while he focused his mouth on her clit. He could feel her building again, her muscles tensing, her breath coming in ragged gasps. This time when she came, it was even harder, her entire body seizing as she cried out his name in a voice hoarse with pleasure.

Jack stood, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his cock aching painfully against his zipper. Elizabeth looked up at him with eyes blown wide, her hair disheveled, her blouse hanging open, her skirt hiked up to reveal her soaked pussy. She looked thoroughly debauched, and Jack felt a surge of pride at having reduced the virtuous teaching assistant to this state.

"That was..." Elizabeth struggled to find words, her chest heaving. "I've never felt anything like that. Is it always... does sex always feel like that?"

Jack smiled, a dark, predatory expression. "That wasn't sex, Elizabeth. That was just the appetizer. The main course is still to come."

He reached for his phone, positioned carefully on the nearby bookshelf, and checked the angle. Perfect. The camera captured the entire scene—the disheveled virgin, the exposed pussy, the evidence of her transformation from saint to sinner.

"Jack?" Elizabeth's voice was uncertain, her virtue attempting to reassert itself. "I think... I think we should stop. This is moving so fast, and I'm not sure I'm ready..."

Jack set down the phone and moved close, cupping her face in his hands. "Elizabeth, look at me. Do you trust me?"

She hesitated, then nodded. "Yes. I don't know why, but I do."

"Then trust me when I tell you that you are ready. Your body is ready. Your heart is ready. The only thing holding you back is fear, and fear is no way to live. Let me love you, Elizabeth. Let me show you how beautiful this can be."

He kissed her again, softer this time, pouring all his skill into making her feel cherished and desired. Elizabeth melted into the kiss, her reservations crumbling under his practiced assault. Jack took his time, undressing her completely until she stood naked before him, her pale skin glowing in the storm-light, her virgin body trembling with anticipation and nerves.

"You're exquisite," Jack murmured, stepping back to admire her. "The most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

He stripped quickly, revealing his muscular body and thick, heavy cock that jutted proudly from a nest of dark hair. Elizabeth's eyes went wide at the sight of him, her hand flying to her mouth.

"You're so... it's so big," she whispered. "Will it fit? Will it hurt?"

"Only for a moment," Jack promised, guiding her to his bed and laying her down on the silk sheets. "And then it will feel better than anything you've ever imagined. I'll be gentle, Elizabeth. I'll make it good for you."

He positioned himself between her legs, spreading her wide and positioning his cock at her entrance. The head pressed against her virgin folds, slick with her arousal but still impossibly tight. Jack gritted his teeth, forcing himself to go slowly despite the desperate urge to thrust deep and claim her completely.

"Relax," he coached, rubbing her clit with his thumb to keep her aroused. "Breathe and relax. Let me in, Elizabeth. Let me be your first."

He pushed forward slowly, feeling her resistance, the tight ring of her virginity blocking his entry. Elizabeth whimpered, her hands gripping his shoulders, her eyes squeezed shut. Jack kissed her eyelids, her nose, her lips, murmuring encouragement as he continued his steady pressure.

"Open your eyes," he commanded. "Look at me while I take you. Look at the man who's claiming your virginity."

Elizabeth's eyes fluttered open, tears gathering at the corners as Jack pushed harder, feeling the moment of resistance before the sudden give as her hymen tore. Elizabeth cried out, her body tensing, and Jack held still, fully sheathed inside her tight, virgin pussy, giving her time to adjust to the intrusion.

"Shh," he soothed, wiping away her tears. "The worst is over. You're mine now, Elizabeth. I've claimed you. Now let me show you how good it can be."

He began to move, slowly at first, shallow thrusts that allowed her to acclimate to the sensation of being filled. Elizabeth's expression shifted from pain to confusion to tentative pleasure as Jack found a rhythm, angling his hips to rub against her clit with every stroke.

"Oh," she gasped, her hips rising to meet him. "Oh, Jack... that's... that's incredible..."

Jack increased his pace, driving deeper now, losing himself in the tight, wet heat of her virgin pussy. Elizabeth was moaning continuously, her nails digging into his back, her legs wrapping around his waist to pull him deeper. The bed creaked beneath them, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room along with their mingled cries of pleasure.

"You're so tight," Jack groaned, pounding into her now with abandon. "So fucking tight and wet. You were made for this, Elizabeth. Made to be fucked. Tell me you want it. Tell me you want my cock."

"Yes!" Elizabeth cried out, her head thrashing on the pillow. "Yes, I want it! I want you! Please, Jack, don't stop!"

Jack drove into her harder, angling to hit her G-spot with every thrust, feeling her muscles begin to flutter around him. He reached between them to rub her clit, wanting to feel her cum on his cock, wanting to milk his own orgasm from her spasming walls.

"Come for me," he commanded. "Come on my cock, Elizabeth. Show me how much you love getting fucked."

Elizabeth shattered, her orgasm crashing over her with devastating force. Her pussy clamped down on Jack's driving cock, the rhythmic contractions pushing him over the edge. With a roar, he buried himself deep and unleashed, flooding her virgin womb with spurt after spurt of hot cum, marking her as his in the most primal way possible.

They collapsed together, panting and sweating, Jack still buried inside her as they came down from their mutual high. Elizabeth was crying softly, overwhelmed by the intensity of the experience, and Jack gathered her close, stroking her hair and murmuring endearments.

"Thank you," she whispered against his chest. "Thank you for making it beautiful."

Jack smiled into her hair, already planning how to edit the video for maximum impact. The conquest was complete. The wager was won. And tonight, he would finally claim the prize he'd been craving for years.

Madison arrived home at precisely eight o'clock, as Jack's note had instructed. She found the apartment dimly lit, candles casting flickering shadows across the walls, soft jazz playing from hidden speakers. Jack emerged from his bedroom wearing nothing but a silk robe, his hair still damp from the shower, a satisfied smile playing at his lips.

"Little sister," he purred, gesturing toward the living room. "I believe I have something to show you."

Madison's eyes gleamed with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. She'd spent the last thirty days in a state of heightened arousal, imagining her brother's success or failure, picturing herself either submitting to his desires or dominating his. Both scenarios had featured prominently in her fantasies, and she was ready—eager, even—to discover which reality would unfold.

Jack guided her to the sofa and produced his laptop, opening a video file with a dramatic flourish. "Behold," he said, pressing play. "The fall of Elizabeth Hart, virtuous teaching assistant."

The video began with Elizabeth entering Jack's apartment, looking fresh and innocent in her conservative blouse and skirt. Madison watched, her breath quickening, as the scene unfolded—the wine, the storm, the gradual seduction. She saw her brother's skilled hands undressing the blonde virgin, heard Elizabeth's gasps of pleasure as Jack brought her to orgasm with his mouth and fingers.

"She's lovely," Madison murmured, her hand drifting to her own breast. "So innocent. So ripe for corruption."

"Just wait," Jack said, his voice rough with renewed arousal.

The video continued, showing Elizabeth naked and trembling on the bed, Jack positioning himself between her legs. Madison leaned forward, fascinated, as her brother's thick cock breached the virgin's tight pussy, as Elizabeth cried out at the moment of penetration, as Jack began to move with increasing speed and force.

"Fuck," Madison whispered, her hand now beneath her skirt, finding her soaked panties. "Fuck, Jack, you really did it. You ruined her."

"I claimed her," Jack corrected, his own hand stroking his erection through his robe. "Just as I'm about to claim you."