The kitchen encounter replayed in my mind on an endless, torturous loop. Maddox’s fingers pressed against my soaked panties, his filthy words whispering how wet I was for him, the way my body had betrayed me so completely. I should have felt ashamed. Instead, I felt empty. Aching. Addicted to a man I could never truly have.
We were stepsiblings. Society would crucify us. Our parents would be horrified. This illicit craving was wrong on every level, yet my body didn’t care. It craved his touch like a drug. I spent the rest of the day avoiding him, hiding in my room, fingers desperately working between my thighs as I chased the high he’d given me with nothing but words and a few teasing strokes. It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.
Night fell on the eve of Thanksgiving. The house wa
