It wasn’t until he told me to choose him or Brandon, that I knew, he’d walk away forever.
Between morality and need, I knew what I needed to do. But not being a baby about it was where I got stuck.
***
By the time I got back to my place, all I wanted to do was sleep. I’d drank too much, and all I wanted was to get off and then pass out. Something about how Madden held me so close—when he seemed to keep his distance from others—made me melt.
He thought I didn’t notice him keeping a huge barrier between himself and others, but I did notice. He kept his space, even on stage. Somehow, where I was concerned, he didn’t hold the same qualms.
Whether that had anything to do with our history of closeness or the fact that he simply did not do touch, I felt special.
Taking off my heels, I noticed my phone blinking. Looking down at it, Brandon’s name popped up. Unlocking it, I read over the text.
Since we didn’t get our date night, can I at least get some phone sex?
Uneasiness hit me square in the chest.
I’m so tired, babe, and tipsy.
You’re sober enough to text me. Which means you can show me the goods. Instead of a video call I can just jerk to your tits.
I felt nauseated at the words. For one, he never referred to my boobs as tits before. And we hadn’t done phone sex since I started working at the firm. Hell, we tried to keep our relationship on the down low.
Not texting back, I messaged Madden. Somehow, even sending a nude felt like cheating, and Madden and I weren’t even together.
Brandon wants phone sex, I typed out quickly, not knowing what the hell to say.
Well, hello to you too, little demon.
The last two words made me heat up and relax a little. Something about the way I could see his mouth forming the words made me want to soak it up and absorb it.
No phone sex. Unless it’s with me.
He added a winking face and I giggled, feeling a lightness in my chest. Why did sexting with my fiancé feel gross but flirting with Madden felt right?
I don't see a response, Andy. If you sext that fucker, I will come over there and show you what a real cock feels like.
Madden, I texted in warning. He couldn’t talk to me like this and expect me to not feel something. I couldn’t breathe when he spoke like this. He always had a demanding nature—that kiss at Josh’s solidified it, but here it felt tenfold.
He wasn’t a boy anymore.
Madden was a man.
And he wanted me.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Scars – I Prevail
Madden
Red. It was the only thing I saw as I drove toward Andy’s apartment. I didn’t drink like I had intended. After storming off because of Cars and then Andy... I couldn’t fucking do it.
Cars didn’t look for me and while I received a barrage of texts from my guys, I didn’t respond. They were on my shit list. They betrayed my trust tonight.
With our tour starting in three weeks, I couldn’t begin to understand why they’d fuck with me. I’d gone back to my apartment and stewed for several hours while thinking of Andy and when she’d finally give in to me.
My phone beeped with another text. I was sure it was Andy. What she didn’t realize was that I was minutes away and I needed to stake a fucking claim.
Brandon would be a problem until he was gone, but my unease and need to unleash my beast on her made me speed even more.
I told her she couldn’t have me while she was with him, but tonight... tonight I didn’t give a single fuck who put a ring on her finger.
She’d know what it meant to be mine and only mine.
It’d been weeks since I fooled around with someone and between being desperate for her taste and the Molly I took earlier, my balls ached.
Pulling my car in, my chest beat fast. Brandon wouldn’t be here, no way. He wouldn’t want to sext if he could have the real thing. But he would not be having her.
Ever again.
She was not his. He’d know soon. I’d make sure of it.
Taking the elevator, I drummed my fingers on the wall, needing something to take the edge off. It killed me not being able to cool down. But seeing her text, her telling me he wanted phone sex... fuck that.
He didn't get a single extra piece of my little demon.
He was lucky I didn’t fuck her two weeks ago when I spent the night. Tonight, though, all morals left me. They no longer existed where Andy was concerned.
My fist met the wood of her door. Knocking, my chest felt like it was about to burst. It was fucking late, almost two in the morning. She’d be awake. Even with my phone left in my car, I knew she’d open it.
It unlocked and her fresh face with honeyed eyes met mine. I wished she still had her makeup on from the club and her tiny dress. I wanted to defile her while she wore it. Smear her makeup with my mouth and mix my cum with it too.
Fuck.
I wanted her something fierce.
Since seeing her again, she was all I thought about.
Every moment of every fucking day, I wanted her. Needed to touch, taste, and devour her.
Like now, seeing her in a tiny fucking nightie. Her skin unmarred, no scars. The differences between her and I were stark and I wanted to color up her skin, paint it with my hands, taking my score in flesh.
“Madden,” she whispered, her eyes widening. She moved from foot to foot in an uneasy way, but it was also so fucking adorable. Nerves, those I understood.
When her mouth closed, she looked so small. Andy with makeup on was stunning, fierce. Without it, she was beautiful as fuck. I couldn’t stop looking at her freckles, the way her face was tinged red from whatever emotion she felt, and the way her eyes seemed glazed over.
Shit, I wanted to see her in the full light with bliss in her expression. I wanted to taste her with my name on her tongue. I wanted to eat her whole until she begged me to stop.
“Inside,” I suggested, realizing people could see me here and it’d make it unsafe for either of us. This place was singlehandedly the safest place for me.
Since I was a teenager and my parents died, this condo was never found out. Here was a sanctuary, and it made sense that this was the place I’d make her mine.
She opened the door wider, waving me in. Her unease struck me as funny. She didn’t seem nervous when she came all over my sheets, wetting them. And fuck, I slept in those with pride, loving the fact that I did that to her.
She closed the door, locking it and arming the system behind us. “What are you doing here?” It wasn’t accusatory or even rude. If anything, it seemed meek, unsure. Like she didn’t know what to do or say.
A part of me didn’t either.
But the beastly part, the one with primal instincts to piss all over her and claim her as mine, knew what drove us here and it wasn’t backing down.
“Did you have phone sex with him?”
She shook her head immediately and I wanted to praise her badly. I wanted to tell her how good of a girl she was. But something stopped me.
“I didn’t text him back, I didn’t know what to say.”
“Look deep, little demon. I assure you, the answer is there.”
She blinked a few times, contemplation in the crease between her eyebrows. She stepped toward me, offering to take my jacket.
I’d forgotten to take off my boots and made sure to do that after handing her my coat.