The Late-Night Return
Rain lashed the windows when Simon slipped through the back door just past 2 a.m. Water streamed off his black hoodie, darkening the cotton across his wide shoulders and clinging to the hard planes of his chest.
He shook his head, sending droplets flying across the kitchen tile, then went still when he saw her.
Maddie stood frozen at the island in tiny sleep shorts and a thin white tank that had ridden up, exposing the smooth curve of her waist and the shadowed dip of her navel.
Her hair was piled in a messy knot, cheeks pink from the half-empty bottle of pinot she’d been drinking alone since her brother—his best friend—had stumbled upstairs and passed out two hours earlier.
“You’re making a puddle,” she said, voice soft but edged with that teasing lilt she’d used on him since they were kids.
Simon’s lips curved, slowly.
“Didn’t realize I had company.”
“Didn’t realize you’d come back tonight.” She lifted the wineglass to her mouth, eyes locked on his over the rim. “Thought you and Jace were crashing at your apartment.”
“Jace snores like a freight train. Needed quiet.” He stepped forward, boots leaving wet prints. “Maybe I knew you’d still be up.”
Her laugh was barely a breath.
“Cocky.”
“Accurate.”
Another step.
Close enough that she caught the scent of rain, cedar cologne, and the faint burn of whiskey.
“You’ve been eye-fucking me all week, Mads. Every time I walk in, your thighs squeeze together like you’re trying to choke out the thought of my hands on you.”
Heat detonated low in her belly. She set the glass down too hard; it clinked.
“You’re delusional.”
“Am I?” He planted both hands on the granite, caging her without touching.
Veins stood out on his forearms, rainwater still beading on his skin.
“Then why are your nipples begging through that shirt right now?”
She glanced down—damn it—and felt the flush crawl up her neck.
No bra. The fabric was damp where it stretched over her breasts, every peak visible.
Simon’s gaze followed, turning molten.
“Jesus. Look at you.”
“Don’t,” she whispered. It came out more like please.
He leaned in, mouth hovering at her ear.
“Say stop, baby girl, and I’ll go upstairs. Won’t touch you again.”
Her pulse thundered. Jace was dead to the world upstairs.
The house was silent except for rain drumming the roof and the fridge’s low hum.
She could still taste the wine, could still feel the slow burn that had been building since Simon arrived for the week—six-foot-three of muscle and smirks, filling every doorway, laughing with Jace like he hadn’t spent years pretending he didn’t notice her growing up.
She tilted her face, lips brushing his earlobe.
“I didn’t say stop.”
His control snapped.
Mouth on hers—hard, claiming, no gentleness.
One hand knotted in her hair, tilting her head exactly how he wanted; the other shoved under her tank, rough palm sliding up to cup her breast.
His thumb raked her nipple and she moaned into his kiss, the sound devoured by his tongue.
He tasted like bad decisions and everything she’d fantasized about for years.
She yanked at his hoodie; he let her rip it off, breaking the kiss only to let it slap the floor.
Then he was back, lifting her onto the island in one fluid motion.
Her legs fell open.
He stepped between them, pressing the thick, heavy length of his cock against her core through wet denim and thin cotton.
“Fuck,” he growled into her throat, teeth scraping her pulse. “You’re already soaked for me.”
“Been wet since you walked in Monday in that black tee,” she gasped. “Every stretch, every laugh with Jace—I wanted to drop to my knees right there.”
He groaned, hips rocking, grinding against her clit until she whimpered.
“Should’ve told me. I’d have taken you against the laundry room door while he was in the shower.”
The filthy image made her clench.
She fumbled with his belt—metal clinked, zipper rasped—then wrapped her fingers around hot, rigid flesh.
He cursed, forehead dropping to hers.
“Careful, sweetheart. You keep jerking me like that and I’ll paint your stomach before I even get inside you.”
“Maybe I want it messy.” She squeezed, thumb swirling the slick bead at the tip.
“Maybe I want to see you lose it.”
His eyes flashed dark.
Next second her shorts and panties were yanked to her ankles, her bare ass on cold granite.
Two thick fingers plunged deep. She cried out, back arching.
“Quiet, baby,” he hissed, voice wrecked. “Unless you want Jace walking in on his best friend knuckle-deep in his little sister’s cunt.”
The threat only soaked her more.
She rocked against his hand, chasing the stretch. He curled his fingers, hitting that spot that made her vision blur.
“That’s it,” he murmured, lips on her jaw. “Ride my fingers like you’ve been riding your toy thinking about my cock.”
She came fast—shattering, thighs shaking, walls pulsing around him, a choked moan buried in his neck.
He didn’t let her recover.
Fingers out, slick with her, he painted her bottom lip before kissing her again, letting her taste herself. Then he lined up, thick head nudging her entrance.
“Last chance,” he rasped. “Tell me no.”
Maddie locked her ankles behind him and yanked him forward.
One hard thrust and he was buried balls-deep.
They both stilled, breathing jagged.
He felt massive—stretching her open, owning every inch. Then he moved—slow, deliberate rolls that dragged every ridge along her walls.
Her nails scored his back. His mouth sucked a bruise onto her throat.
The island creaked.
Rain pounded harder.
And Maddie forgot how to whisper.
