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.”

LIANA

The air outside Professor Reynold’s office was crisp with the approaching Christmas break. The hallway smelled of pine and cinnamon, credit of the festive garlands strung across the office doors.

It was the last day before the Christmas holidays and most of the professors had already clocked out early, eager to celebrate the break with their family.

I’d spent weeks plotting this, weeks fantasizing about the man whose name alone made my core clench—Elijah Reynold.

He was forty-two, devastatingly handsome, and had the kind of muscular buildup that looked strictly forbidden beneath his fitted academic tweed jackets. And me? At twenty-three, I was ready to admit to myself that I wasn't just a student with a crush; I was a horny, aching slut ready to be used. Ruined.

And I knew this was my last chance before the holidays.

Clutching the brightly wrapped gift box, I approached his secluded office on the quietest wing of the history department. I knocked once, then twice, but silence met me. On my way, I saw that his black sedan was still in the lot. He was definitely inside.

With a slow breath, I twisted the brass doorknob. To my utter surprise, it yielded with a soft click.

The room was dim, lit only by the soft, warm glow of a small Christmas tree tucked into the corner and the harsh blue light of a screen. Professor Reynold was seated in his leather chair, his back partially to the door. He wasn't grading papers. Not buried deep in history texts. No.

He was wearing his customary fitted gray trousers, his belt undone, the fly open, and his shirt was partially unbuttoned. His sinfully beautiful face was flushed, tilted back slightly, eyes fixed on the screen of his laptop, and his mouth slightly open as he stroked the thick, veined length of his cock.

It was fully hard, glistening slightly, and utterly breathtaking. The unmistakable sound of his low, guttural moan filled the quiet office.

I froze, my heart hammering a wild rhythm against my ribs. The shock lasted only a second before a bolt of white-hot arousal shot straight to my core. My knees instantly went weak, and I had to press my thighs together, rubbing the ache that instantly began to throb in my pussy.

God, he was magnificent.

Suddenly, he shifted, catching the faint reflection of me in the dark window, and froze.

His eyes, usually sharp and commanding, were wide with a mix of shock and acute embarrassment. He snatched the fabric of his trousers and quickly shoved his rigid cock inside, buckling his belt with a panicked haste that was almost endearing.

And God help me, I smiled—a slow, coy, predatory curl of lips that let him know I wasn't sorry to have interrupted his meat beating session. I was turned on, badly turned on and my pussy ached.

"Professor Reynold," I purred, stepping further into the room.

He stood up quickly, his tall, muscular frame now fully visible, but the air around him was tight with tension.

"Miss Brooks! I... I apologize. I wasn't expecting anyone. Is there something I can help you with?" He said in a rush.

I walked straight to his desk, hips swaying beneath my tight jeans. I leaned over his huge mahogany desk in a deliberate, agonizingly slow bend that exposed the heavy swell of my breasts beneath my thin sweater.

I placed the gift down, fingers lingering on the box.

"Just a little something," I whispered, straightening up slowly, meeting his flustered gaze. "A thoughtful student's Christmas present."

Reynold cleared his throat, adjusting his collar. "Thank you, Liana. That's…very kind of you."

Instead of leaving, I rounded his desk.

He was backed up against the chair, trapped.

I moved behind him, my fingertips lightly brushing the broad, muscular expanse of his shoulder, right where the tweed met the collar of his shirt.

"You seemed to be having some trouble finishing up before the holidays, Professor," I murmured, leaning in close so my breath feathered against his ear. "I could help you better than those videos, don't you think?"

It was a bold, reckless move—but it worked.

A slow, predatory smirk finally curved his lips, melting away the embarrassment and replacing it with pure, dangerous desire.

"I see the rumors are true, then," he drawled, his voice deep and rough. "Liana Brooks isn't just a brilliant student. She's a very dirty little slut."

The word "slut" was like a match thrown onto kindling. A gasp escaped and my pussy instantly clenched, soaking wet and ready.

I didn't answer with words. I walked to his front, parted his legs open to accommodate me, and then I slid my hands down his firm stomach, past the buckled belt, and dropped to my knees.

I unbuckled the leather strap, then pulled down his zipper in one smooth, practiced motion. The scent of him—hot, musky, and faintly of an aroused man—hit me instantly. I reached inside and carefully freed the hard, thick cock.

He was magnificent. Even thicker than I’d imagined, veined and rigid, his head already glistening with pre-cum. It throbbed against my palm like it recognized me. I wrapped my fingers around his length, perfectly centering him in my eager hands.

"Oh, Professor," I moaned, running the tip of my wet tongue along the underside of his shaft. “You're so fucking big.”

He groaned out a curse, his dark eyes locking on mine.

I took the full, shiny, pink head of his dick into my mouth, wetting it slowly, letting the salty, earthy taste coat my tongue.

Reynold groaned loudly, his hands immediately grabbing my head, anchoring me in place.

I began working on his length with a fierce, practiced intensity. I pulled back slightly, then plunged deep, stretching my throat around his length. I bobbed my head on his cock, varying the pace, using the tip of my tongue to rake the ridges beneath the head of his thick cock, then swallowing him almost whole, until my lips bumped against his groin.

I felt him strain against my grip, his thick rod filling my mouth completely, making my jaw ache deliciously.

"God, Liana," he gasped, his voice tight. "You're a professional. You nasty little girl. I should fail you for this."

I couldn't speak, but I looked up at him with wide, lust-filled eyes, letting him see the fierce desire in my face as I worked him. I used my hands to stroke the shaft, mirroring my mouth’s motion, milking him, driving him faster and faster toward the edge.

He lasted only minutes under my relentless assault. His hands left my hair, gripping the edge of his desk, his whole body convulsing, his warm seed filling my mouth.

"Enough," he rasped, pulling my head up just as a shudder began to run through him. He pulled his cock free from my mouth and a thick bead of fluid dripped from the corner of my mouth onto the carpet. "You're too much. Now, get up."

I rose, my mouth wet and tingling, my pussy throbbing so hard I could barely stand.

Reynold didn't hesitate. He grabbed me by the hips and spun me around, shoving me toward the desk. He bent me sharply over the surface of his huge mahogany desk, causing me to land hard on my hands. Everything happened in a blur, but within a few seconds, I was bare. Tits dangling free over my chest, exposed ass lifted high for my professor.

My wetness was already sliding down my thighs. I was burning and ready.

"You came in here asking for this, didn't you?" he growled, ripping his own pants down and fully freeing his stiff length.

He didn't wait. He grabbed my hips, slammed the rigid head of his cock against my wet center, and plunged in with an animalistic grunt.

I screamed—a loud, muffled cry of shocked pleasure onto the desk. He was immense, filling me completely, stretching me in a way I'd only ever dreamed about.

He slammed in again, harder this time. “Answer me, you filthy whore.”

“Yesss, fuckk…yess,” I moaned, hands scrambling to get a hold of anything.

He started the rhythm immediately—hard, fast, and unforgiving. The desk shuddered beneath me as he rammed in.

"Look at you," he panted, his voice raw with lust, his mouth inches from my ear. "Bending over your professor's desk. You're tighter than I imagined, you little whore."

“Please,” I gasped in a half plea and a half moan. I didn't know what I was pleading for, but it was definitely not for him to stop.

I liked his cock. I liked the length of my professor's big cock stretching my dripping pussy.

"I want to hear you say it, Liana. Say you're a slut."

"I'm a slut! Oh, Professor, I'm a fucking slut!" I cried, gripping the desk so hard my knuckles turned white.

He slapped my ass sharply, the sting momentary but intensifying the shock of the pleasure.

"Good girl," he growled. "Take it, Liana. Take every inch of your Christmas present."

He drove into me in a blinding series of powerful thrusts, his rhythm becoming a desperate scramble for release, making the heavy mahogany desk shake violently.

I felt the knot tightening in my stomach, the pressure building to an unbearable degree, and I started to scream his name just as he let out a guttural roar, pumping his thick, hot load deep inside of me.

He collapsed onto my back, a dead weight, his cock still throbbing in my core, his breath hot on the back of my neck. I was left a shaking, ruined mess, pinned to the desk, the Christmas lights twinkling innocently in the corner of the room.

Professor Reynold’s cock was finally sliding out of my pussy, leaving me sleek and gasping, when the unthinkable happened.

The office door, which I had forgotten to close properly in my lust-haze, swung open.