After 24 Hours

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.