SUMMER

I haven't been properly fucked in five years.

Five painfully, torturous years of dying to be properly claimed. Ruined. Wrecked.

I've been aching for the kind of touch that sinks into your soul and rearranges every of your fucked up bones.

Walker tries. God bless him, he really does.

But my rather inexperienced husband’s best was never good enough.

He trails soft kisses down my neck, bites down to leave hickeys that'd fade after thirty seconds, tries to talk dirty, lasts seven minutes when he's on those meds he always relies on…and if not, probably four.

The moans, the wriggling, the gasps—I fake all of it.

I fake it so he doesn't feel bad.

And after everything, I lie there, staring into the dark, biting my lip to keep the truth from slipping out.

The fact always remains: his hands are too gentle, his pace too careful, his desire too polite. Everything Walker does brushes right up against the wrong fantasy.

It was nothing like I wanted.

Nothing like I craved.

The real truth is that the whole time my husband is moving inside me, all I'm thinking is—it should be him.

Maddox.

Walker's elder brother. The family's black sheep. The walking embodiment of every filthy desire I've tried to tame but couldn't.

Every time Walker and I fuck, I finish with my vibrator afterward. I insert it deep inside my aching pussy, close my eyes, and imagine a different voice in my ear.

A deeper one.

A darker one.

One voice that says my name like it's the beginning of a deadly sin—Maddox’s voice.

Maddox is everything Walker isnt—dominating, reckless, hot. And God help me, but he knows the effect he has. He knows exactly how my breath hitches when he walks into a room. He knows how my pulse jumps when he leans too close. He's fully aware why I turn away quickly when he catches me staring lustily at him.

And tonight?

Walker's invited him over—for a cozy, wholesome, Christmas dinner with family.

The idea was almost laughable.

Maddox wasn't even a bit family oriented.

But of course, trust Walker to screw badly and also make worse decisions.

Maybe if he knew Maddox featured in every of my dirtiest, most forbidden fantasies...If he knew I'd been getting off to the thought of his brother's voice, and fantasizing about him pinning me down to our matrimonial bed, maybe he wouldn't keep putting me in the same room with a temptation I can barely survive.

“Babe,” Walker's voice cuts in through my thoughts. “What are you still doing up here?”

I hadn't even heard him come in.

I open my mouth to respond but he’s already moving on.

“Maddox is here already. Downstairs.”

“Ohh,” was all I could say.

My heart's thudding so loud, I wonder if Walker can hear it too.

I heard him before I could see him.

His laugh—deep, dark, intense, echoed through the entire house. The kind of sound that effortlessly makes you wet and aching. I wondered who he was on call with.

As I got closer, I felt the sudden urge to fix my hair, smooth my skirt—anything to look like I hadn't been unraveling at the thought of him.

My stomach flipped the moment my eyes landed on him.

He was leaning so casually against the kitchen counter, phone on one hand, one of Walker's bottles of whiskey on the other, looking even more insanely attractive than ever—dark jeans, black shirt stretched across shoulders that barely fit through doorways. His hair was slightly messy like he'd just run his hand through it—hands inked with intimidating tattoos.

“Well,” he drawls, his eyes sweeping over me in that slow, deliberate manner as he drops his phone on the counter. “Long time no see sister-in-law.”

I manage a neutral smile, hoping it'll mask the turmoil I was feeling inside. “Hello, Maddox.”

“You look as bright and radiant as ever.” He said as he picked up his glass and lifted it up slowly to those sensual lips I'd imagined on my clit more times than I could ever count.

His eyes stayed locked on mine, carrying that glint of something sweetly wicked.

“It's those Korean skincare products she uses. Seems it's worth all the trouble of having them shipped in after all.” My dimwitted, emotionally unintelligent Walker said, shooting me a grin.

Seriously, was that even meant to be funny?

“Nah,” Maddox shook his head slowly in disapproval, his eyes sort of undressing me as he slowly set his glass back on the counter. “Summer's always had this glow.”

I didn't need to look into a mirror to know my face had turned into the color of a tomato.

Was he aware that I was blushing so hard at the moment?.

I wanted to run.

Get the fuck out of here before things got messy.

I knew Maddox was aware of my feelings for him.

He's caught me staring at him. He couldn't be ignorant of the fact that I was always checking him out whenever I had the slightest chance to.

Just then, Walker's phone vibrated in his pocket.

I was thankful for the distraction.

“Umm, excuse me guys…but I've got to take this.”

And to my dismay, he left the kitchen in a rush and soon I heard him ascending the stairs, talking to whoever he was on call with.

Maddox leaned against the kitchen island, his strong arms crossed, biceps flexing tauntingly. “Are you okay?”

I blink, eyes narrowing slightly at him.

“Why?”

Ngl, the question came out in a rather defensive tone.

He shrugged one shoulder—a casual move. But my messed up head couldn't help but think how much of a sexy Greek god he looked.

“You seem stressed, Summer.”

The sound of my name coming from him was enough to make my panties wet in a second. It took a lot of restraint not to squeeze my thighs together in order to suit the ache that was building rapidly in my pussy.

I frowned confusedly at him. “Stressed?”

“Walker's worried about you,” he said, those intense blue eyes still holding mine. “Said you've been distant.”

I walked past him to the fridge, grabbed a bottle of water with slightly unsteady hands and drank straight from the bottle. I didn't need to turn around to know Maddox was still staring at me. I was afraid if I met his eyes, he'd know the truth—The real reason I've been distant from my husband.

“I don't know why he's worried, but I'm totally fine.” I said, putting the bottle back in the fridge.

“Sure?”

From the corner of my eyes, I could see him moving towards me.

My throat instantly went dry, heart racing so fast like it's got somewhere urgent to be.

My hand instinctively tightened round the handle of the fridge like it was some sort of anchor that'd keep me from falling apart.

He walked toward me like a predator stalking its prey.

Slow. Deliberate.

He didn't stop until he was barely an inch from me.

I couldn't breathe.

Couldn't fucking move.

I just stayed rooted on the spot like some dumb mannequin. I should think that Walker was upstairs, and that he could come in at any moment.

But NO.

I didn't think of that.

All I could think of was how good he smelt— A mixture of oud, cardamom and something spicingly dangerous. It was nothing like Walker's cringe vanilla smell.

“Tell me, Summer” he said quietly, voice dropping seductively low, his hot breath fanning the back of my neck. “Are you tired of playing the devoted little wife to my brother?”

The question was a direct blow to the gut.

My breath hitched.

This is so wrong, I tell myself over and over, fists clenching so hard the blood fled from my knuckles.

But still, it didn't stop my pussy from pulsing so fast I could feel my juice sliding down my thigh. I so badly wanted to turn around and kiss that cruelly attractive mouth of his for speaking the truth I've been hiding.

“I always knew he wasn't the kind of man for you.”

He was close. Too close.

I could almost feel those soft lips of his pressing against the back of my neck

If I moved back an inch, I'd feel his lips on my neck. I'd feel his broad chest against my back. I hated how much I wanted that. I hated how badly I craved something I should never entertain.

He was my brother-in-law.

“Maddox,” I warned, but it came out softer than I intended. It sounded more like a plea than a protest.

“Tell me the truth.” He said, voice low and sinfully intense.

I was too stunned to utter any words.

His hand lifted slowly, deliberately—crawling up my neck to brush some hair. His fingers grazed the back of my neck in the process. It was barely a touch, but it burned.

“You want me to ruin you, don't you?”

Yes.

No.

God, Yes.

I didn't get to respond because at that moment, the kitchen door creaked open and Walker stepped in.

SUMMER

“Babe,” Walker's voice filled the kitchen immediately, unbelievably clueless and calm.

My heart slammed into my ribs as I tore away from Maddox so fast I nearly tripped. I quickly put distance between us—or tried to.

Maddox hadn't moved. Not an inch.

His shoulders were still angled to shield me from Walker's view, his eyes locked on mine with that same intensity— like he was replaying every second of what had just happened. But I wouldn't be subdued. I wriggled myself further away from him.

Walker stepped fully inside now, tugging at the button of his jacket, completely oblivious to the tension in the air.

“Everything okay?” he asked, smiling like always— that soft, loyal, trusting smile that made my stomach twist with guilt.

“You're wearing your jacket,” I managed, my voice embarrassingly shaky as I approached him. “Are you going out?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, already reaching for his keys on the kitchen island. “Sort of an emergency at the company. They need me to come in for a bit.”

“Oh,” I swallowed hard, my palms clammy. “Is everything alright?”

“Nothing I wouldn't be able to handle.” he leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to my cheek.

I flinched.

There was nothing wrong with my husband kissing me—except with Maddox watching, it suddenly didn't feel right. It felt like betrayal.

“I Just don't want to leave it until morning.” Walker said, fastening the last button of his coat.

He looked at Maddox with a grin. “Dude, make yourself at home. You guys can start dinner without me if I'm slow.”

Maddox's smirk was sinful. Hot. “Sure.”

I shot him a warning glare, and he raised a brow in silent challenge.

Walker gave my shoulder a very gentle squeeze. “Back soon, babe.”

Then the door clicked shut behind him, leaving just the two of us.

I propped onto a nearby stool, feeling my knees were threatening to buckle under my weight.

I was one second away from a cardiac arrest with the way my heart was pounding. My breath rushed out in a shaky exhale.

The house fell silent. Too silent.

Maddox didn't move. Didn't speak.

But I could feel him behind me, still watching. It made my hands tremble.

I forced myself to get up on my feet, desperate for something normal to do before I combusted.

“I…I'll just set the table.” I said without daring to glance at his direction.

He didn't respond. Didn't move an inch from where he was.

I moved to the cabinet and busied myself with the plates and cutlery, wiping them clean with a napkin over and over again. I just needed my hands to do something, anything but reach for him.

My heart beat refused to slow down. I could feel his gaze dragging over me, heavy and hungry. It felt like a touch all on its own.

“Is that really what you want? Dinner?” His voice cut through the space between us, thick with need.

I froze.

A spoon slipped from my fingers and clattered onto the counter. Before I could turn or ask what he meant—like I didn't know what exactly he was talking about, I felt him right behind me. His dominant smell filtered into my nose, broad chest brushing my back, hot breath caressing my neck.

“Maddox,” I whispered, but it came out more like a moan than a plea.

He didn't wait.

One strong hand slid around my waist, yanking me roughly against him. All my restraint left me in one breath. The air rushed out of my lungs. Shallow. Shaky. Needy.

His other hand spun me around to face him, fingers curling under my chin, tilting my head for him.

“Been craving something else all evening,” he murmured, and the hunger in his voice set every nerve in my body on fire.

Then his lips crashed against mine in an intense kiss.

Not soft. Not hesitant.

It was fierce. Claiming.

A collision that knocked every last scrap of sanity out of my being.

And God help me—I kissed him back just as hard.

My fingers twisted in his shirt, dragging him closer as his mouth slanted over mine, hot. Desperate.

He tasted like sin—dangerous, yet irresistible.

I'd been holding myself back for years, and now I'd finally snapped. My whole body arched into him, answering that heat with equal recklessness.

I wasn't thinking about Walker.

Fuck, I wasn't thinking at all.

All I could think about was the fact that his huge cock was pressing tightly against my flat stomach, and the buildup of heat in my pussy was driving me almost insane.

As the kiss deepened, one of his callous hands found its way under my shirt.

My breath hitched as his rough fingertips brushed against the bare skin of my tits, sending a jolt of fire straight to the aching core between my legs.

The thin material of my shirt offered no barrier against his seeking warmth, and his touch was nothing polite—possessive, forbidden and utterly electrifying.

I knew I should pull away.

He was my husband's older brother.

Yet, he was the one I'd always looked at with that intense, barely veiled hunger.

We were in the kitchen for chrissake, right off the dinning room where we'd be having our cozy family dinner later. Walker was away, but that knowledge didn't stop the internal scream of guilt. Still, the heat of Maddox's mouth on mine, the hard, thick length of him against my belly was a stronger, more feral force.

His hand continued exploring, his palm now flat against the small of my back, urging me closer, molding my lower body to his.

A low groan rumbled in his chest, vibrating against my lips, and I answered it with a desperate whimper.

“You feel so fucking good, Summer” he rasped, pulling back just enough to look into my eyes. His mirrored the same burning recklessness I felt.

His words, low and rough, shattered the last traces of my control. I dug my fingers into his dark, messy hair, pulling his mouth back down for a demanding kiss as I dove headfirst into the abyss of my brother in-law's mouth.

Our tongues collided, teeth biting, grazing at each other's lips.

His hand left my back and gripped my thigh, lifting my leg and wrapping it around his hip, leveraging me higher against him. The contact was agonizingly pleasurable. I felt the wetness between my legs finally leaking through my overly soaked lacy panty, slicking the rigid material of his jeans.

“Maddox,” I breathed against his lip in one last broken plea. I didn't know if I was asking him to stop or begging him to continue, but he took it as the latter.

He backed me up against the cool, marble countertop —a harsh reality against the burning need consuming us. He didn't break the kiss, but his teeth dragged slowly on my lower lip. He bit down softly—a punishing, yet rewarding bite.

“Fuck,” I moaned into his mouth, legs trembling, eyes shutting tight to savor the feel of him.

His hips nudged forward once in a firm grind that made my head tilt back and a small cry escaped my throat.

“Tell me you want me to ruin you,” he commanded, his voice dark and husky. “Tell me, you little slut.”

I couldn't form the words. I could only moan unashamedly, clinging to my brother-in-law, my heat desperately grinding against his cock through the fabric of his denim.

Maddox didn't wait for an answer.

He knew.

The frantic pace of my breath and the desperate way my body clung to his was all the confirmation he needed.

He broke the kiss, dragging his wet lips down my jawline, leaving a trail of fire on my neck. His grip on my thigh tightened, hoisting me further up so the searing pressure of his erection was fully aligned with my throbbing pussy.

“You were made for me, little slut,” he murmured, his breath hot against the pulse point in my neck.

"Mmmh, yes," I moaned in response, head thrown back in ecstasy.

He lifted me up swiftly like I weighed nothing, one muscular arm sweeping beneath my hips, and effortlessly set me on the cold marble countertop. I gasped at the sudden shift, my legs automatically tightening around his waist to keep me anchored to him.

His hand moved quickly.

In one swift motion, he yanked my shirt up over my head, tossing it onto the floor. My skirt followed immediately.

The chilly air of the kitchen hit my overheated skin, but the heat emanating from wrapping my legs tightly around Maddox's waist was immediate compensation. I was left wearing nothing but my lace-trimmed bra and my soaking wet panties.

His hungry eyes raked over my chest, making me feel even more exposed than I already was.

“I've always imagined you like this,” he murmured, his voice a low possessive growl. “Wet and aching to be ruined by me.”

I swallowed back a moan, eyes dizzying from the ache of waiting.

He didn't waste time with my bra. The material was ripped off in a single move.

The dark tattooed hand that had featured in every of my wild fantasties cupped the soft mound of one of my breasts, his thumb circling slowly round the hardened peak that strained against his hand.

My eyes snapped shut as a raw moan tore out of my throat, too loud for a devoted wife who was supposed to be setting the dining table for dinner.

Maddox leaned in, his mouth close to my ear, tone dropping to a seductive whisper. “Open your eyes and look at me, darling. Look at your husband's brother pleasure you in ways you've never experienced before.”

His words only intensified the throbbing of my pussy. I whimpered, clutching his shoulders desperately.

“Please Maddox,” I cried out impatiently, thighs bucking up to grind my pussy against his visible bulge.

Then, with a rough sweep of his hand, he found the waistband of my lacy pants. He hooked his fingers under the damp material and with one brutal, quick motion, tore them down my thighs.

The sound of the fabric ripping was sharp and loud in the small kitchen. They immediately joined my other clothing on the floor.

I was completely exposed, spread open for him, flush and trembling with need.

He stepped back, just enough to look, to admire the sight of me—something Walker had never done.

I watched the intense, burning focus in his eyes as they dropped to the swollen, sleek pinkness between my thighs.

My core pulsed, aching for the release only he could offer. I instinctively tried to shift, to close my legs, but he stopped me, placing a hand on the inside of each of my knees, keeping me spread open.

"Stay," he commanded, his voice a delicious mix of authority and desire.

He leaned in, not to kiss my mouth this time, but to press his lips against the soft, highly sensitive skin of my inner thigh, just a breath away from the main source of my agony. My whole body arched, nails digging crescent shapes into the firm muscle of his shoulders.

"Oh, Maddox," I rasped, eyes pleading.

The waves of my orgasm hadn't fully built when I heard it—a sound that sliced through the kitchen like a razor blade, followed by the slow, grinding creak of the kitchen door opening.

My eyes snapped wide open, the pleasure I was getting from Maddox's lips on my thighs freezing instantly into pure, cold terror.

Walker?

SUMMER

"Walker," I choked out, the name a panicked, frantic whisper as I tried to tear away from Maddox's grip.

He didn't budge. His head remained fixed in-between my thighs, savoring my heat.

Then slowly, he looked up at me, his eyes dark and unwavering. The danger hadn't scared him; it had only electrified him.

I tried to push away from him, eyes wide and darting toward the door, which was now open just a few inches, revealing a narrow glimpse of the surprisingly empty hallway. Still, the blood drained from my face, a cold dread replacing the intense heat.

Walker couldn't be back yet. The drive to the company was about four hours, especially with Seattle's Christmas traffic. But maybe…maybe he’d forgotten something important.

But as I stared, forcing my focus beyond the terror clutching my throat, I saw a familiar, low silhouette slip through the opening.

It wasn't the figure of my husband. It was low, sleek, and covered in gray fur.

Lucy.

The cat sauntered in, tail held high in a curious curve, her green eyes blinking lazily at the spectacle we presented. She let out a soft, questioning meow, then turned and walked out.

The relief that flooded me was so intense it nearly buckled my knees, mixing nauseously with the adrenaline coursing through me.

"It's... it's just Lucy," I breathed, the words barely audible.

I immediately tried to push against Maddox's shoulders, desperate to use the warning as a cue to end the madness.

"Maddox, we have to stop. That was too close. We can't—"

He didn't let me finish.

"Not yet, Summer,” he chuckled, a low, wicked sound that sent shivers down my spine. “You've waited this long. You can wait a little longer." He lifted his head, his dark eyes glittering with dangerous intent, his hot breath fanning my V area. "I want you to be completely undone.”

"Maddox, please," I begged, but my hips voluntarily rocked against the air, seeking his soft lips against my clit.

He didn't hurry.

He lingered, his gaze fixed on my dripping pussy, a dark, consuming look that made the blood rush to my head. I was breathing in short, shallow gasps, my hips continuously begging for him, but he was savoring the control.

"You're soaking wet for me, Summer," he murmured, his voice wrapping around my submission. "Look at how much you want this. All that heat, all that wetness... just for me."

He pressed a single, tattooed finger into the slick fold of my pussy and I cried out— a muffled sound of shock and pleasure. My back arched violently against the cold marble wall of the kitchen.

"And you know what this is for, don't you?" he continued, rubbing that spot slowly, deliberately. "This is for every time you look at me across the dinner table. Every time you wore those seductive dresses that showed off those tits. Every time I knew you were thinking of me instead of him."

My cheeks were flushed scarlet. "Stop," I rasped, but the sound was weak, ruined by the pleasure he was extracting from me. The pleasure I was getting from his finger circling my clit was more than any guilt I could

He ignored me, his lips finally reaching where I needed him the most, pushing softly against my clit.

He kissed. Nibbled. Sucked.

“Yes, Maddox,” I whimpered. “Fuck, yeah.”

He straightened, his hard-on grinding against my entrance. The thick bulge of him rubbed the sensitive, engorged flesh of my clitoris, sending a blinding wave of sensation through me.

"You're mine," he growled. "You're going to take every inch, and you're going to sing my name. Can you sing, Summer?"

I'm far too wet and too aroused to think about what he meant. It was much easier to nod frantically like a needy little slut

Maddox held my gaze, his eyes dark, intense pools of predatory desire. I watched as he slowly undid the button of his denim, and then his cock sprang out free.

He was big. Thick.

It was just like I'd fantasized.

Slowly, deliberately, he pressed the tip of his cock against me. I felt the heat, the thick, smooth head pushing past the sleek, trembling lips of my pussy.

It was a perfectly, agonizing stretch.

I gasped, my breath catching in my throat, my fingers digging into the muscle of his arms. "Maddox... please..."

With a low, decisive grunt, he drove forward, burying himself in one deep, agonizingly slow push.

The world dissolved into a rush of pure, feet-curling sensation.

He was full.

Unbelievably, impossibly full. He stretched me around him until I felt the solid pressure of his hips meeting mine

He paused briefly, holding himself deep inside me, letting my body adjust to the invasion. His chest was heaving, his jaw clenched, and a drop of sweat traced a path down his temple.

"God," he rasped, his voice thick with satisfied lust. "That's exactly where you belong, baby. Tight. Hot. Dripping all over me."

Then, he began to move.

It started as a slow, deep drag, pulling almost completely out until only the tip remained, teasing my most sensitive parts before he reversed, plunging back in with a powerful, hungry drive that struck the deepest part of my core.

All sorts of guttural moans escaped my mouth.

My hips rose to meet him, desperate for the impact, the thrust, the delicious, sinful possession.

My pace quickened with every shaky breath that left my lips.

His thrusts were rough, and perfectly tailored to the hungry ache I had carried for years.

Each slap of his cock against my pussy drove me closer to the edge, making the sounds I made less recognizable. My head was thrown backwards, eyes shutting tightly, chest heaving so fast.

"Look at you," he grunted, his eyes demanding I acknowledge the utter ruin he was making of me. "Screaming my name while I use your body. You're cheating on your husband, Summer, and you've never felt better."

The dirty talk was a sharp, wicked edge to the already overwhelming pleasure.

With a sudden change in rhythm, he started thrusting faster, harder, pushing me against the cool, unforgiving counter. The sounds of our sweaty bodies meeting, the rhythmic slap of wet skin on skin, was the loudest, most forbidden Christmas carol I'd ever heard.

I was screaming unashamedly as my brother-in-law's cock kept pounding into me. The tension was building impossibly high, coiling into a tight knot in my pelvis.

I felt the unfamiliar, terrifying approach of reaching what would be the highest peak I'd ever climbed and I screamed his name—not the gentle plea from before, but a raw, desperate howl.

"There it is," Maddox ground out, his blue eyes now taking a totally darker shade. He drove in three final, punishing thrusts. "Come for me, Summer. Right here. Right now."

The explosion was immediate and shattering, rocking my body in a series of violent spasms that made me shake uncontrollably.

My orgasm was hot, loud, and utterly consuming, contracting tightly around the rigid length of his cock inside me, pulling a guttural groan of pleasure from Maddox's throat.

The trembling waves of my climax washed over me, leaving me soaked with satisfaction.

Maddox didn't stop. His thick cock was still buried deep inside me, his powerful body trembling with the effort of his own impending release. He pulled out slightly, then drove back in another severe thrust that pinned me hard against the marble counter. He flattened his palms against the counter on either side of my hips, and slammed forward.

He grabbed my chin with his free, tattooed hand, tilting my head back and forcing my eyes up to meet his. He began the thrust again, deep and hard, a punishing, possessive rhythm that stole my breath.

"You want to know the truth?" he growled, his face inches from mine, eyes burning with something wicked and unrelenting. "You're mine, Summer. Every filthy, aching part of you belongs to me.”