Dirty Affairs: An Erotic Compilation

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?