10. Chapter 10 #2
Maddox’s gasps turn into a low growling from somewhere deep in his chest. He bites his lip.
Eyes fluttering shut as she works his full length into her throat.
My knuckles clench into fists at that obscene little sound as her lips seal around him and she begins to move.
Sliding her tongue up and down the underside of his shaft.
Sucking the swollen tip in her big juicy lips.
He pats the edge of the desk beside him, smug as sin. “Come, sit.”
My feet are stuck in place, planted where I stand on the hardwood floor. I’m not fucking going near that. I should knock his teeth out for even suggesting it.
“Maddox…” My voice comes out rough from the dryness of my mouth. He cuts in before I ca n finish.
“Relax. Just giving you a front-row seat.” His tone is smooth, almost bored.
Like I’m the one making this awkward. Like he hasn’t just turned the most powerful woman in the club into a weapon and pointed her at me with his cock still in her throat after we shared a—what? Moment earlier? Fuck, I'm delusional.
I should walk away, say something cruel and dismissive; anything to keep from folding beneath that goddamn stare. But I don’t. Of course I fucking don’t. Because Maddox always gets what he wants in the end and I’m helpless to stop it.
My legs carry me forward before my pride can catch up.
I sit down right beside him, and I don’t pull back when his thigh tilts to press against mine, so close that I can feel the heat rolling off him in waves.
Close enough to hear the wet sounds of her mouth working around him.
To see the spit glistening at the corner of her lips as she hums low in her throat.
As if this is a gift she’s receiving, and not some twisted game we’re all being forced to play.
I keep my eyes forward, fixed on the fireplace across the room. I’m not looking at her again. Not when I can still hear the slick rhythm of her sucking him off, and the soft hums of contentment in her throat that make me want to cut off her oxygen for good.
I hate her for being the one between his knees.
I hate him for making me witness this. Tears sting my sinuses as they threaten to burst through the ducts.
I pierce my tongue with my teeth to stop them overflowing.
I refuse to cry over this. The metallic tang swirls in my mouth like a glaring reminder of why I can never admit my true feelings about someone like Maddox.
Air is coming out in short, sharp breaths through my nose and I'm about to push off the desk to leave, consequences be damned, but then I feel it—his hand moving to the front of my pants like it has every right to.
The moment the buckle shifts, I snap. My hand shoots out, clamping around his wrist with a force that startles even me.
My anxiety is playing hackysack with my insides like some stoner, reggae-loving loser.
“The fuck are you doing?” I hiss. It comes out sharp and too loud in the quiet.
Maddox just chuckles, that infuriating smug sound that makes me want to curl my fingers around his throat and squeeze until he's moaning my name—no, fuck, what the fuck—until he can’t breathe anymore. God, what is he doing to me?
This situation has got me all fucked up, and the dull thud of my belt still hanging open beside me chimes like a warning siren. He doesn’t flinch away or even look down at my hand wrapped tight around his.
“Easy, Ry.” His volume drops, soft but edged with amusement.
As if I’m some skittish street cat instead of a grown man.
“Don’t act like we haven’t shared people before,” he chides.
I don’t know what the fuck he’s thinking, because we’ve never done anything like this before.
Not even on that night when he passed out drunk in my bed and jerked himself off.
My fingers dig into his wrist, lips pursed into a tight line as we hold each other's gaze. He leans in until his breath brushes my skin. “You’re the one who stayed,” he whispers. “You could’ve walked out the second she dropped to her knees, but you didn’t. Because you want this, too.”
My teeth grind, the breath shuddering in my lungs more from restraint than fear. He’s right… that’s the worst part. I could’ve left, I should have left, but I didn’t. Why didn't I leave?
I hold his gaze for a long moment, daring him to push further while silently begging him not to; but also praying that he does.
Fuck. I'm not even sure what I want anymore. All I know is my cock's straining painfully against my jeans, begging to be touched. So with a loud sigh, I let go. Because he’s right, we’ve fucked people together before.
Why should this be any different? It’s not. Nothing is different.Bry and I aren't together, Maddox is my childhood friend, Flea is just another warm body. It's fine. Aaaaaand my jeans are open now because Maddox.Just.Pulled.My.Cock.Out.
Oh my god, nothing is fine.
He's acting like that was fucking normal but none of this is fucking normal. Not the way he’s looking into my eyes. Not the way my heart is racing. And especially not the way my cock twitched and grew in his hold.
I don’t even want to admit it to myself, but fuck, I so desperately want to thrust up into his grasp and feel his rough hands work my length.
My tip leaks pre-cum at the mental image alone.
His fingers drag slowly away from my dick as he leans back in a slow lazy movement like this is just another evening to him.
His head tips toward the ceiling with a groan, deep and unfiltered, torn straight from his chest.
It sounds absolutely fucking feral. And I want more of it. I need more of it. I feel it like a lightning strike under my skin; it's hot, disorienting, and wrong.
God, it’s so fucking wrong, the way that sound hits me. Like I could actually—no, shut the fuck up, this is ridiculous. It’s Flea, she’s the reason why this has me feeling so fucked up. The hate I have for her is why I’m so fixated on Maddox, because I obviously can’t bear to watch her work.
Or it's the blood loss, the alcohol, trauma to the brain. Anything that isn't my attraction to my best friend, which I don't have. Obviously.
I glance sideways, just once and gulp when his throat flexes as he swallows; that goddamn Adam’s apple working with every shift of her mouth around him.
His hand buries itself in her hair like it’s instinct, like he was made to guide her, to own her with every controlled movement of his fingers.
As if she’s some holy act and he’s the only man worthy of worshiping her.
The air smells like sweat and spit and sex.
My cock’s so god damn hard, and I hate myself for it.
I hate her for being the catalyst for this.
My thoughts are a wreck. I try to fix my eyes on the wall across the room, on the edge of the desk, on anything that isn’t the way Felicia moans around him.
Or the way he moans for her, and the anger it pumps through my nervous system.
I don’t want to fucking hear Maddox moan for that bitch.
The kind of pleasure that takes him by the throat and drags it out of his lungs.
I want to look away. But I can’t. It’s like a car crash, my eyes are locked on the way her lips stretch around him.
How her throat opens like she’s made just for him.
Acting like sucking Maddox’ cock is what she lives for.
That should be my throat he's pumping into.
Saliva pools under my swollen tongue like I’ve been drugged as I watch her full lips graze over his shaft.
Her eyes flutter closed as she moans again.
It reverberates straight up my spine like a goddamn tension cord and causes my knuckles to blanche from how tightly I’m gripping the edge of the desk.
His head tips back again, one hand tangled in her hair, the other braced on the desk—right next to mine.
Our fingers brush.
I assume it’s just an accident so I try to pull away but his index finger wraps over mine, holding it still.
I stare at our intertwined fingers, brows pinching together.
Slowly my gaze drags back up to meet the crystal light of his eyes.
He’s watching me with a comfortability that suggests this isn’t the first time I’ve seen him this way.
Except it is. Nothing about this is familiar.
We've never touched like this. Never the tension beyond what was necessary. This… I don’t know, it’s different.
When he groans again something builds deep in my chest—something hot and confused and absolutely not invited.
My hand moves before I realise it, I’m palming myself and then I'm gripping tighter and stroking my cock.
Matching her rhythm without meaning to. Eyes locked on the stretch of her lips around his beautiful long thick cock.
It’s not him I want. I don’t want him. But it’s definitely not her. It’s… the sound he makes, the heat pouring off him. The flush rising up his throat. Ffffuck , the way his jaw clenches when she swallows him to the hilt. Jesus fuck that feels so good.
I watch him come apart and it feels like standing too close to a fuse burning toward the dynamite. Maddox looks down watching my frantic tugging and he smirks. That smug bastard actually smirks. He knew I’d break.
“That’s it. Good Boy, Ry,” he says, low and indulgent. “Let it happen, baby.”
Fucking hell . A bead of pre-cum gathers at my tip, and as I catch Maddox staring at it, his tongue lashes out to wet his lips like he wants nothing more than to know how I taste.
Felicia’s looking at me now, her hazel orbs full of bemusement while she swirls her tongue around the flushed head of his cock. Her finger nails bite into the tender flesh of my inner thigh and I gasp at the pain.