I have always.......

Dexton P.O.V

I love my wife. Really, I do.

May is gentle, smart, and steady — the kind of woman that makes you feel like home. When I met her, it was love at first sight. She made me want to settle down. Her quiet strength, her patience… it was everything I didn't know I needed.

I never expected to get attached to her sister.

Justina. The first time I saw her was on our wedding day. May had always talked about her like she was her whole world, and when she walked into the hall that afternoon, I saw why. That girl didn't just walk — she glowed.

She had this wild charm wrapped in a deceptively innocent exterior. Her face looked untouched by the world, but her body… her body told another story. I remember thinking, how can one person be both temptation and purity?

At first, I brushed it off. It was probably just wedding-day nerves, or maybe a man's primitive brain noticing what it shouldn't. But even after the wedding, her face kept popping up in my head. At odd times. In ways it shouldn't.

When May got pregnant and asked Justina to move in during her final trimester, I agreed instantly. It made sense — she'd help out, and I was going to be away most of the time anyway. But deep down, something about it thrilled me.

Three weeks passed while I was away on site, but when I came home, I wasn't prepared. She'd already claimed the house like it was hers. Her scent was everywhere. Her lotion. Her shampoo. Her little moans when she stretched after a nap.

And then there was that day in the gym.

I knew her routine. I'd watched her sneak in every morning. So when I made sure I was working out shirtless the same time she came in, I told myself it was just coincidence. That wasn't entirely true. I wanted her to see me. To feel flustered.

And when she helped me with the weights? Her fingers brushing mine, her breath close, her eyes darting anywhere but my chest — I knew. I fucking knew she was affected.

I wanted more.

Three days later, I left the porn playing in the living room and stayed there on purpose. I could've gone upstairs. I could've locked a door. But no. I even emptied her water bottle — yeah, that was me. Petty? Maybe. But if it got her to come out at night, barefoot and sleepy in that tiny nightdress… I'd do it again.

When she caught me jerking off, I nearly laughed. Her shocked face, her flushed cheeks — priceless.

But what I didn't expect… was her joining me. Not with words, but with actions. Lifting her dress. Sliding her fingers between those pink, wet lips. Right there on the couch. Right next to me.

I didn't touch her. I didn't have to. That moment wrecked me. I came so hard I saw stars.

And that night, I barely slept.

Since then, I've been keeping my distance. Four weeks. I buried myself in contract work. Made excuses to stay out of the house. May said I was grumpy — she wasn't wrong. I haven't been able to focus, and I've made more mistakes on-site than I have in the past year combined.

I told myself it was just lust. Just a dry spell. I haven't touched my wife in seven months — she said sex made her uncomfortable during pregnancy, and I respected that. She even bought me a damn sex toy, trying to be considerate.

But this… this wasn't about sex anymore.

It was obsession. And I hated myself for loving it.

Justina finishes her exams this Friday. I've already told May I'm extending my stay at the construction site.

It's better this way.If I keep seeing Justina, I'll break.And once that happens, there's no turning back.

When I arrive home today, the house is locked. Odd. May rarely goes out lately—she's in her final month of pregnancy and hates moving too much. I shoot her a quick text to ask where she is, then take a long, much-needed shower before crashing on the bed.

When I wake up again, the sun is already low. It's nearly evening. As I step out of the bathroom, the sound of muffled giggles floats up from downstairs. Our house isn't big, and the soundproofing is mediocre at best. Still, hearing May laugh that freely? Rare.

I dry my face and head down, curious.

From the stairs, I spot them. May's relaxed on the sofa, belly propped comfortably with pillows, laughing as she waves her hands around mid-story. Justina—barefoot and wildly off-beat—is trying to mimic some dance move, limbs flailing in chaotic rhythm. It's… ridiculous. But clearly, it's what's making my wife laugh like a schoolgirl.

I suppress my own smile and descend the stairs with a neutral expression.

"You two look happy today," I remark casually as I head to the kitchen.

May barely acknowledges me with a wave; Justina jumps like she's been caught stealing candy. I don't even need to look at her face to know she's blushing.

I brew a quick cup of coffee and return to the living room. Justina is now seated beside May, busy on her phone.

"Hey, love. Where were you earlier?" I ask, aiming for light curiosity—but her expression sours.

"I sent you a voicemail last night," she says sharply. "Told you I'd be attending a prenatal class with other soon-to-be moms. Justina came along—she had her own errands. I even called you this morning. Your phone was off, so I figured you were busy."

Her tone is sharp, eyes narrowed. "Didn't check your phone? Voicemail? Nothing?"

Before I can answer, she's already standing, maneuvering her heavy belly with practiced caution.

"I'm tired. I'm going to bed."

She disappears upstairs.

Justina doesn't say a word. It's as if the tension never happened.

I sigh and retreat to the kitchen. It's 7:12 PM. I throw together some quick spaghetti and stew, and by 8:30, dinner is done. I carry a tray to May, who's not sleeping but watching some reality nonsense on TV.

"I'm sorry, hon," I say softly. "Work's been crazy. I didn't mean to ignore your calls."

I place the food by her side. I try to coax her a little, but she remains quiet.

I don't push.

As I leave the room, I pause at the door.

"I'll sleep in the guest room tonight—give you space. Again… I'm sorry."

Downstairs, the dining table looks half-empty. Justina either already ate or took her food to her room. I don't ask.

I eat quietly, clean up, then settle in the living room with a comedy series. But by 10:46 PM, I can't laugh. My eyes keep drifting to the hallway. She hasn't come yet. Is she asleep? Why does that irritate me?

No.

This is her fault.

She stirred something in me, and now she should take responsibility.

I'm about to go knock on her door when I see her.

Justina stands at the entrance to the living room, fidgeting, eyes downcast, cheeks flushed.

I smile to myself—but keep a straight face.

"Hey, Justina," I say calmly. "You're still up?"

She nods, then stalls at the edge of the room, visibly unsure.

"Come on. Sit. I don't bite."

Not yet.

She moves cautiously, then lowers herself onto the edge of the couch beside me. Her fists are clenched in her lap. I let the silence drag.

"I… I was wondering…" she begins, biting her lip. "About that… video. From the other day."

She swallows. "I… kinda liked it. I know it's weird. I mean, watching it. That video. With you."

Her face is crimson. Her voice barely audible. I take a slow breath.

"Oh? Which video?"

Her eyes narrow. "You know exactly which one."

I give a soft chuckle. "Ah. That."

She looks at me, expectant. Nervous.

"I deleted it. One-time thing, you know? Charm only works once. But…" I pause, letting the air grow heavy, "I do have a newer collection. Haven't watched them yet."

She stares at me.

"So?"

"So maybe we could watch one together. If you like it, I'll send it to you. If not, I delete it after. What do you think?"

Her expression flickers. Confusion. Excitement. Guilt.

"Dex… isn't that wrong?" she whispers. "I mean, it's deliberate now. Watching it… together. Again. Doesn't that count as… cheating?"

I lean in slightly, keeping my tone smooth. Dismissive.

"Justina, we're not doing anything wrong. It's just two adults watching adult content. No touching. No lines crossed. You're overthinking it."

She hesitates again.

"…Okay," she whispers finally.

Bingo.Stage two: complete.Now, onto the final act.