I live for the thrill of the risk

Every Sunday night I fuck my fiancée like a man possessed, knowing Wiley's useless sperm is still swimming inside her, desperately searching for an egg I'm determined to claim first. It's become our ritual—Sarah spending weekends with him, returning to me for what we now call "reclamation night." The irony that he thinks he's secretly breeding her while I'm doing the exact same thing makes my cock harder than it's ever been in my life.

"You know what I love most about Sundays?" Sarah purrs, stepping through our apartment door completely naked except for her engagement ring. Her inner thighs glisten with evidence of her weekend activities.

"Tell me," I growl, already rock hard at the sight of her freshly fucked body.

"The look in your eyes when I come home." She walks toward me slowly, hips swaying. "Like you want to devour me whole."

And I do. I consume her completely, bending her over the kitchen counter without preamble, driving into her still-slick entrance with savage intensity. The knowledge that Wiley's seed is already inside her—that I'm literally competing with him at a biological level—transforms our lovemaking into something primal and fierce.

"I can feel him still inside you," I grunt against her ear, my hips slamming against hers. "But not for long."

Sarah moans, pushing back against me. "Yes... replace him... fill me up..."

"Make me forget he was ever there," she gasps, her fingers gripping the granite edge of the counter until her knuckles turn white.

I reach around to grip her throat gently, pulling her back against my chest as I drive deeper. "You want me to wash him out of you?" I whisper harshly in her ear.

“YEEES!”she whimpers, her body trembling as I pound into her relentlessly. "Make me yours again."

The apartment fills with the sound of skin against skin, punctuated by Sarah's increasingly **** moans. I can feel her tightening around me, her body responding to the possessive edge in my touch that she doesn't fully understand.

"He thinks he owns you," I growl, my hand sliding down to press against her flat stomach. "But this belongs to me."

Sarah's breath hitches at the pressure, her back arching as she pushes against my palm. "It's yours," she pants. "Everything's yours."

When she comes, it's with a cry that echoes through the apartment, her entire body convulsing around me. I follow seconds later, burying myself to the hilt as I flood her with everything I have, my seed mixing with Wiley's in the most intimate battleground imaginable.

Later, as we lie tangled in sweaty sheets, Sarah traces patterns on my chest. "Only one more month until the wedding," she murmurs dreamily. "The venue called yesterday to confirm the flower arrangements."

I nod, my hand possessively cupping her still-flat stomach. For six weeks now, we've been engaged in this silent war—Wiley replacing her birth control pills, me taking advantage of her unprotected state. Neither of us has told Sarah the truth.

"Did you finalize the guest list?" I ask, trying to sound normal despite the storm of possessiveness still raging inside me.

"Almost. I'm still not sure about inviting Wiley." She props herself up on one elbow, studying my face. "Would that be too weird?"

I laugh, the sound harsh even to my own ears. "You think having the man who spends every weekend trying to steal you away from me at our wedding might be wired? Yeah, possibly."

Sarah grins, unaware of how literal my words are. "He'd be devastated not to come. You saw see his face when I mention the wedding. It was like watching a puppy getting kicked."

"Poor Wiley," I say, not meaning it for a second. "So tragic."

"Don't be mean." She swats my chest playfully. "He's been good to me."

"Oh, I know exactly how good he's been," I mutter, pulling her closer. "And how pathetic."

Sarah's fingers walk up my chest, her expression shifting to that mischievous look I've come to recognize—the one that always precedes her most outrageous suggestions.

What if we did?" she whispers.

I stare at her, not sure I've heard correctly. "Did what?"

"Invite Willey to our wedding?"

"Why?"

Sarah's fingers trail lower, circling my navel before dipping beneath the sheet. "Because it will be fun, just think about how fun it will be reclaiming me that night, with him nearby after I spent the night before with him."

Her hand finds me, already hardening at the mere suggestion. The image flashes in my mind—Sarah in Wiley's bed the night before becoming my wife, then walking down the aisle toward me while his useless seed still swims inside her. My body betrays me, responding instantly to this new taboo.

"You want to fuck him the night before our wedding?" My voice sounds strangled even to my own ears.

"Mmm-hmm." Her thumb circles the head of my cock. "Don't you want to have the best sex ever as you reclaim me on our wedding night after he had to sit there during the ceremony, watching me become your wife, knowing he had me just hours before."