LOGINContent Warning: This book contains sexually explicit material and is intended for readers aged 18 and above. "I’m engaged to your sister. You can’t do this." His dark-green eyes bored into mine under the sheets, as he stroked my cheeks. "You’re not even into women, Liam. You know you’re not. You know you want this. You want me." And Liam couldn't deny it, He lived to burn for Jackson Maddox. ~ Liam Sinclair had always lived according to his father’s rules, polished, quiet, and hidden in the perfect image of a future CEO. Behind closed doors, he carried a secret that could destroy everything his father built. He was gay. But scandal had no place in the Sinclair legacy, and Liam made sure no one ever found out. That is, until the night everything changed. When his father arranges an engagement with Avery Maddox, a woman Liam barely knows, he unravels. A single night of rebellion leads him to a club, where a one-night stand with a seductive green-eyed stranger spirals into something far more complicated. The next morning, the stranger's identity is no longer a mystery. His name is Jackson Humin Maddox, the brother of his intending Fiancee. Now Liam is trapped between duty and desire, legacy and love. But Jackson doesn’t care about titles or contracts. Engaged or not, he wants Liam, and he is not letting go. This is a forbidden tango of chemistry, but Liam Sinclair has to choose, to either pretend his one time mistake was baseless, or to fall maddeningly in love with it.
View MoreLiam's pov
"Another shot, please." The bartender gave me a worried glance, maybe I was taking too much. But I didn't care, I needed to get wasted tonight. He poured another shot and added extra ice, it left a burning trail as I tipped it into my mouth. Tomorrow was my engagement, and my twenty-fifth birthday. I was to be engaged to the charming Avery Maddox. And shit, if I remembered correctly through all this alcohol. I've only met this woman once. And we didn't even hold out a proper conversation. "Another one." I requested, nudging the now empty glass to him. "It's your engagement sir, why aren't you happy about it.?" I scoffed internally, Maybe because I wasn't interested in women?Yes, they were luscious beings with luscious assets. But I ached to be used, to be dominated and pummelled into a mattress so hard that there would be a dent in the bed frame the morning after. I liked men, I wanted men. I gripped the cup in anger, I couldn't have them. Because that would mean my whole world tearing into little pieces and then burning up and receding into bright orange flames. "Just imagine....." I muttered amusingly, to my own hearing. "Liam Sinclair, heir to Mr. Astor Sinclair, coming out of the closet and identifying with the LGBT community." I could almost smell the headlines. My father would ruin me first, and I was honestly..... incapable of fighting his choices. The bartender turned to me, he was a big bulky man that had his hair roughed up with an apron on. A big muscle daddy capable of- "So you don't like her?" He asked, his squeaky nosy tone drowning out my desires. "It doesn't matter who I marry.....it's quite frankly all the same." He kept quiet after that and I kept on drinking, in fact....I started feeling the shots kicking in. I climbed on the table, hooted and announced that I would be buying drinks for everyone here. Their excited cheers erupted around me, their tongues gliding at the corner of their lips at the mention of free liquor. Through the blinding neon lights and loud phonk music, I noticed......him. He was seated at the VIP section, he was watching me.....his eyes held my stare and I could see him clamp down on his lip with his lower teeth. He was oozing dominance, I could taste his breath from across the room. Somehow, I knew that it would taste like mint and sugar. I would never dare to approach any man intimately in public, the fear for my reputation would not let them. But my body betrayed me for this stranger. I found myself getting off the table, walking towards him, liquid courage fueling my intentions. The crowd was thick, but I was quick on my feet. Within a fleet of a second, I was on his thighs, straddling him like a shameless slut, and kissing him, like I'd been starved of life itself. He kissed back, in fact......he kissed back with more vigour than I expected. His strong arms locked around my waist, his deep green eyes looked up at me, reminding me of a thick lush forest. "Tasty...." He muttered as he curled his tongue around mine, sucking on it lewdly as he moved around on the sofa. I could feel him getting an erection beneath me. God, what was I doing?. "Wanna take this elsewhere, a hotel, just us two?" He was a stranger to me, going with him alone would mean exactly what he was suggesting. My engagement was tomorrow, and.... He grabbed my neck and peppered kisses on my chin, fisting my growing bulge and marking my neck with his light bites. "Just one night...." I murmured out of breath. "Just one." He responded in agreement. We didn't need to exchange any other words, I signalled the bartender to deduct whatever bills from my card. He carried me out, still sucking on my throat and forcing submissive sounds out of me. "You'll be a good boy for me, won't you?" It sounded like something a serial killer would say, especially when he slid my drunk ass into the back of his tinted SUV. But I didn't mind, I was too far gone, lost in his scent of coffee and rain to care. For one night, I would be reckless and I'd let loose. ~ The hotel door clicked shut behind us, muffling the noise outside. He pressed me against the wall like he couldn’t wait, his mouth crashing into mine, hungry, lustful. I clung to him, fingers tangling in his shirt before yanking it open. Buttons popped, and he didn’t even flinch. He stripped me down with practiced ease, his gorgeous eyes scanning every inch of my exposed skin like I was something he’d been starving for. I’d never done this. I'd ever let a man touch me like this. But with him, that fear turned into heat. "You're smooth...." He trailed his hand across my bare chest, "soft....just how I like my pretty boys." He pushed me onto the bed, hands everywhere, down my chest, between my thighs, leaving wet trails with his tongue as I trembled beneath him. My breath hitched, my dick throbbed. Then he pulled my boxers off and settled between my legs. "Relax," he said. His fingers were slow at first, wetting themselves with cold lube and pressing into my hungry hole until I arched and whimpered, then he got rougher, crueler in the most beautiful way. "You’ve never been fucked, have you?" he murmured, pressing a kiss to my smooth ballsacs. I shook my head, too dazed to speak. He smirked, Then I felt him, long and hard, pushing in, stretching me open like his member was a beer bottle. I gasped, my nails digging into the sheets. "Breathe, pretty boy," he whispered, thrusting into me. The whole length, he slammed it in. It hurt. It burned. But by the gods, it was everything I craved. He didn’t stop until I was flushed and wrecked, begging for more. Until the room smelled of sex and sweat and desperation. He came with a growl, spilling deep inside me while I cried out a wordless gibberish plea. We hadn't even used a condom, I was careless, getting pummeled raw as his hands worked my own pitiful member. Making it spurt and wobble. We collapsed onto the sheets together, both of us breathless. He brushed his thumb over my bruised hip bone, "I've still got more loads to pour into you." He grinned, "let's see how well you do on top.”Third person's POV The prison visiting room smelled like industrial cleaning solution and decades of bad decisions.Liam Sinclair sat across from his father at 7:15 PM. The table between them was bolted to the floor. The guard by the door was watching them with the particular attention reserved for inmates whose charges involved federal conspiracy and attempted murder.Astor Sinclair looked smaller than Liam remembered. Not diminished. His father would never be diminished. But compressed somehow. Like the walls of the cell were already reshaping him into something that fit their dimensions."You came," Astor said. His voice was neutral. Neither pleased nor surprised."I need information," Liam said flatly. "You're the only person who might have it."Astor's mouth curved slightly. Not quite a smile. "Straight to business. I taught you that.""You taught me a lot of things." Liam's tone didn't change. "Most of them wrong."The guard shifted position slightly. Astor ignored him."Wha
Third person's POV The photograph arrived on Liam's phone at 4:47 PM.He looked at it for seven seconds without speaking.Jackson was across the room, standing at the window with his back to the light. He'd been there since they'd returned from the briefing, watching the street below without comment. The silence between them had stopped being uncomfortable somewhere around the second hour."Jackson," Liam said.Jackson turned. Something in Liam's voice made him cross the room quickly.Liam held out the phone.Jackson took it. Looked at the screen. His expression didn't change for three full seconds.Then it did."That's—" Jackson stopped. Started again. "That's not possible.""Sometimes somethings are impossible and sometimes nothing is impossible. So here in this situation, I'm so certain that it is true. Janet recovered it from a corrupted file," Liam said quietly. "Legacy corporate records from 2003. The only Marcus Jefferson that connects to the addresses we've been tracking."Ja
Third Person's POVThe West Ark contract had a face.Two faces, precisely — Mateo Reyes and Elena Reyes, brother and sister, the visible architecture of a deal that had moved enough money to fund a small government and had done so through a structure elegant enough that three separate regulatory bodies had looked at it on three separate occasions and found nothing worth pursuing. Carlos Reyes, a name that rarely comes out among others of their family. Carlos always gets the low rating because he always hid his hardness behind Mateo and Elena, respectively. The Reyes family was old money in the specific Mexican sense — not narco money, or not exclusively, but the kind of generational wealth that had survived long enough to develop legitimacy the way sediment develops into stone, layer by layer, until the original material was no longer the point.Mateo had been the operational face. He had attended the meetings, signed the documents, appeared in the photographs that existed in the plac
Third Person's POVThe phone rang at 7:14 in the morning, which was how Morgana knew it was Henri.Henri Voss had three rules about communication that he had maintained without deviation for as long as she had known him. He never used the same line twice for sensitive information. He never called after nine in the evening, because evenings were for the kind of thinking that required no interruption. And he never called at a civilized hour when he had found something that mattered, because finding things that mattered had a way of making sleep irrelevant.She was already awake. She had been awake since four, which was not unusual. Sleep had been a negotiation since the year her son died, something she approached carefully and lost regularly, and she had long since made peace with the hours between four and seven as her own — a stretch of time that belonged to no one and therefore belonged entirely to her.She answered on the second ring."You found something," she said. Not a question.
Third person's POV "Alright," Janet said, taking charge of the room the way she always did when business was happening. "Let me lay out what Elena and I have been working on while you were all in Mexico dealing with cartel leaders and kidnappings and newborn babies."She pulled up a presentation o
Third Person's POVThe arrest happened at six forty-five in the morning while most of the city was still deciding whether to hit the snooze button one more time. Richard Maddox had been staying at a residential hotel on the east side, the kind of place that asked no questions and accepted cash paym
Third person's POV The location Elena Reyes chose for the meeting was a neutral ground in every sense that mattered. An old textile factory that had been converted into event space years ago, then abandoned when the economy shifted and people stopped renting warehouses for weddings and corporate g
Third Person's POVThe call came at four in the morning when the world was still dark and quiet. Liam's phone vibrated on the nightstand, pulling him from sleep that had not been restful to begin with. He reached for it blindly, his other arm still wrapped around Jackson who was finally sleeping af
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