Be better.
Not take this fork in the road, heading toward damnation.
“We shouldn't,” he clarified, not breaking my gaze. “Doesn't mean we can't.”
“Madden,” I begged, my voice a hum of traitorous feelings. Knowing what either of us felt right now wasn’t acceptable. Not to people, not to the cops, and definitely not to the judges who would throw us behind bars. Not blood-related, the little devil reminded me. Not illegal.
“I'm sorry I said anything,” he placated, almost like accepting my simple denial. He stood to leave and I followed, catching him before he closed his door. He flinched as if I slapped him. My touch, unwanted. The barest trace of our skin sizzling like a fallen telephone wire. This, between us, wasn’t right.
“I feel it too,” I finally admitted after years of holding it in, chills broke out all over me. Those words were all it took for his eyes to light up. His hand snuck out, gripping my chin. The zap intensified, a squirming sensation hitting my belly at the contact.
Our lips were so fucking close.
Too close.
He stroked his thumb up and down my jaw as I melted in his grip. There was authority to his touch. Unlike most men, he didn’t cower or act unsure. His movements were powerful, sureness in every brush of our skin.
Something I never experienced with Brandon was exactly what Madden gave me. Dominance. The heat, the warmth between my thighs, and the butterflies hitting the walls of my stomach trying to escape, was something I only ever felt with him.
“If he wasn't here, I'd fuck you, little demon.” His thumb dragged my lip down as he leaned closer. “Right now, against the wall, on the fucking table with my bare cock inside you as you squeezed me. I'd lick your cunt and make you scream my name.” When his words finished, I panted, an ache building inside. “One orgasm wouldn't even be enough, Andy. I'd work so many out of you that you'd black out and cry.”
“Madden,” I whimpered, as his thumb stilled on my jaw, pressing into the skin. My face warmed as sweat teased my skin. The pressure around us closed in, suffocating me so only he could save me from myself.
“But I won't fuck you while you're with him. If you ever want to break society’s rules with me, you'll be mine. Only fucking mine. Do you understand, little demon?”
I immediately nodded before truly grasping what the fuck he said. Lightheadedness overwhelmed me as the wetness between my legs ached and throbbed.
“Go to bed, Andy,” he demanded, dragging his thumb over my pulse point. A small smirk curved at his mouth. “Or maybe you need to rub yourself dizzy with me in mind since he doesn’t know how to please you.” He released me and I touched the spot, wanting to memorize the proprietary way he did it
Not only was he my nephew, but he also had fame. Being part of the public eye would make this messy if it ever got out. No one in my position as his aunt should be seeking anything romantic from a man I’d only known as my nephew. While the age gap was nonexistent and we grew up as best friends, it was wrong. Yet, here I was, wanting him inside me while I lost myself to every color of the spectrum.
“I'm wet,” I whispered softly, bravely. My body overheated with each breath between our chests. I wanted to stop him from leaving, but at the same time, I needed him to be stronger than me and not turn back.
“Then, by all means, Andy. Go make yourself come.”
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
“Watch me.” The ballsy words escaped my mouth before I could stop them. His hand gripped my wrist, dragging me behind him. As soon as he pulled me into his room, I knew I'd risked too much.
Brandon could catch us, fuck this all up. The news would go crazy, his band would flip their shit. And while there were no legal reasons I knew of that said we couldn’t be together, morally, it was wrong.
Yet, I couldn't deny the need coursing through me.
“On the bed.”
I didn’t argue, I listened. Intrigue drove me to be here, but pure interest forced me on the bed. He locked the door before sauntering toward me. His footsteps beat like drums inside my chest, thrashing unsteadily and haphazardly.
Sitting down, I waited for his direction. He towered above me, peering down at me. My eyes searched his, feeling so small at this angle. The sureness in his expression stole my breath. His hands gripped both my knees, indenting my flesh with his own marks.
Somewhere between shock and arousal, heat wrapped around me as he spread them wide. It forced me back a little onto my elbows to keep me inclined enough to watch whatever he had planned.
The room felt smaller somehow like this. Him hovering above me as I laid beneath him, willing to give him anything he asked for. This moment was ours, even if it shouldn’t exist.
Taboo or not, I’d waited years for this moment.
Fantasized.
If we were the sickness, I’d let it crawl up my veins.
There wasn’t a moment that I’d want the antidote.
No cure could fix what we infected into ourselves over the years.
Flipping up my nightgown, he rolled it to my hips, the material gathered at my waist. A violent shiver hit me at the little skim of his skin against mine. My mind kept traveling to what the fuck we were doing while also begging for him to touch me entirely.
He’d regret this. Me. He’d never come back. Yet, I didn’t push him away. A part of me—hedonistic in desire—refused to back out. We’d see this through.
“No panties, huh?” he grunted, interrupting my thoughts. His face seemed shadowed, reverent. “Guess it makes sense after being half-fucked by him.” I wanted to gasp at his honesty, but he was right.
There were so many parts of him I didn’t explore when I had my first taste seven years ago. Now? He was massive. Lip rings, a nose ring, tattoos... Madden Black was a sight, and one I shouldn’t be able to witness.
But like a god on an altar, I’d fall to my knees for him, every time.
“Jealous?” I teased, not knowing why I taunted him. His cruel gaze hit mine, the bed dipping as his knees boxed in my body. The creak of the bed had me on edge. How much noise did I have to make for my fiancé to walk in?
Would Brandon yell?
The thought of him witnessing Madden atop me made me both sick and aroused. It wasn’t lost on me that he never brought me to orgasm and the simple touches Madden offered already made me feel on the cusp of one.
“I've been jealous every time I've heard a guy lack the ability to fuck you to completion.” His voice dripped with malice. “Must all be winners.” The sarcasm he had dipped each word in bit at my skin. There was something inherently attractive about a possessive man.
And he wanted me.
I rolled my eyes, knowing he might be cocky, but he was absolutely right. Men I hooked up with rarely gave me orgasms. They mostly focused on the power of thrusting. Which was good and all, but without prep or dirty talk, or a buildup of need, it wasn’t successful.
I had several orgasms after men left, though, and that was the saddest reality.
Madden leaned over me, his barely clad cock tenting and reaching for me. God, he's packing. Licking my lips, I thought of following through and going to my knees to worship him.
Jesus.
What's wrong with me?
“Stop thinking and touch yourself,” he commanded with a deep, yet soft, voice. “Rub that little swollen clit for me.”