Maddie had drifted between wakefulness and sleep for hours. Ever since she’d shut the door on Vanessa and Graham outside her room, her skin had felt electrified—every nerve ending alive, humming. She’d tried counting breathing exercises. Tried focusing on the faint vanilla glow of her candle. Tried imagining Chloe’s bedroom stuffed animals to lull herself. Nothing worked. Her entire body burned with need, with anticipation of what might come next.
Around 2:17 AM, she finally conceded defeat. She slid out of bed, bare feet sinking into the soft rug, and padded to her dresser. Fingers traced the smooth curve of her silk camisole, now rumpled and damp with sticky heat. Carefully, so as not to wake any servants or risk bumping into the nanny’s sleeping body in the next suite, Maddie crossed the room and slipped on a loose V-neck tee—gray, soft cotton, the kind that tasted slightly like fresh laundry—and nothing else. She tied the ends of her blonde hair into a messy knot, letting stray tendrils brush her collarbones. One more deep breath, and she tiptoed out.
The hallway was dimly lit by recessed wall sconces—soft, amber light that cast long, inviting shadows. She kept her shoulders relaxed, her hands folded in front of her, reminding herself to move slowly. Each heartbeat drummed in her ears. A part of her expected Vanessa or Graham to be waiting around every corner, ready to pounce or scold. But the corridor was empty—silent except for the whisper of her own breathing.
As she reached the mid–hallway ginkgo table—a round marble pedestal topped with a single white orchid in a glass vase—she paused. The orchid’s petals looked like they’d been painted by moonlight. In that moment, Maddie felt herself standing on the edge of something dangerous and thrilling. She wanted more. She craved more. And yet she was terrified—of what? Of losing control. Of letting her desires show. Of giving in to the Hartleys’ magnetic pull.
Still, her body was aching. Her breasts felt heavy in the thin shirt; the cool air against her nipples sent tiny shocks through her ribs. She needed water. She needed relief. She needed a moment to simply exist without the constant, delicious tension that hummed in every inch of her skin.
She continued down the hallway toward the kitchen, bare soles whispering against the hardwood floors. Halfway there, she froze. Ahead, a sliver of light spilled under the frosted-glass door of Graham and Vanessa’s private study. A soft mahogany smell—old books, leather chairs—wafted into the hall. Instinctively, Maddie’s pulse spiked; her body remembered how Graham had looked that evening—shirtless, chest defined, muscles coiled like a predator. How Vanessa’s fingertip had grazed his arm as if marking territory. How they’d watched her through the gap in the door. She could feel their gaze on her, even now, in the dark.
Before she could pull back, the door clicked open. Dark limbs of shadow stretched into the corridor, and Graham appeared—just his upper body visible at first. He’d slipped out of the study quietly, barefoot, chest naked and glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. The lower half of his body was draped in navy lounge shorts that clung to the curve of his hips. Moonlight from a small stained-glass window behind him slanted across his torso, highlighting every ridge of muscle. Maddie’s breath hitched.
He froze the instant he saw her—eyes widening for a heartbeat that felt like an eternity. Then his expression softened into a slow, dark smile. “Maddie?”
“Shhh,” she whispered, stepping closer. Her voice trembled, partly from nervousness, partly from desire. “Don’t make noise.”
Graham’s gaze flickered down to her body—gray tee hanging off her left shoulder, a hint of lace from no-underwear peeking above her hipbone. She was lithe and soft, curves in all the right places, nipples already puckered against fabric. He swallowed hard. Maddie felt him swallow, too—a deep, muscular contraction in his throat.
He stepped out into the hallway, murmuring, “You shouldn’t be out here.”
She let her hair fall from its messy knot, the pale strands brushing her collarbone. “I can’t sleep.”
His eyes narrowed, as if he was assessing the danger of her presence—of her want. Slowly, he closed the study door, flicking a soft click to lock it behind him. Then he looked back at her and took in a slow, deliberate breath that puffed out his chest.
Maddie’s heart battered her ribs. One half of her mind shrieked, Go back to bed! Go back to bed!. The other half pressed her forward, hovering on the cusp of surrender. She walked until they were mere inches apart, and only the faintest glow of the sconces kissed their skin. She could feel the warmth radiating from his body. She could see her own nipples pressing into the thin cotton, the rise and fall of her chest, her stomach glistening with a fine sheen of sweat.
“Graham,” she said, her voice husky. She lifted one hand, fingertips brushing the stubble along his jaw. “I—”
He pressed his thumb to her chin, tilting it upward. Their eyes locked: Maddie’s blue, wide with want; his ice-cold blue, darkened with hunger. Then he leaned in, brushing his lips to her temple, then down to her throat. Each touch was light, teasing, but it sent a ripple of fire across her skin.
She closed her eyes, leaning into him, letting her body arch toward his. The world narrowed to the two of them, suspended in a shaft of moonlight and tension.
He whispered, voice low and rough, “You know what you’re doing to me right now?”
Maddie’s breath came in shallow pants. She could feel Graham’s body pressed just an inch behind hers—his warmth, his hardness evident through the thin shorts. “Maybe,” she whispered back. “Are you going to stop me?”
Before he could answer, a soft click echoed through the hallway—low and hesitant, but deliberate. Both of their heads jerked to the side, toward the sound. From the shadowed end of the corridor, Vanessa emerged. She was wrapped in a plush white bathrobe, loosely tied at the waist so that one leg peeked through. Her hair was damp, cascading over her shoulders in dark, glossy waves. One hand held a crystal tumbler half-full of ice water; the other clutched the robe’s lapels. Her eyes were wide with surprise, then narrowed into something deeper—an inscrutable blend of arousal, proprietorship, and challenge.
Maddie’s heart pounded so loudly she was sure Vanessa could hear it from six feet away. She took a breath, trying to steady herself, but all she could think was Oh God. She’s seeing us.
Vanessa’s gaze burned into Maddie’s skin, lingering over the soft cotton clinging to her breasts, the bare skin of her inner thighs visible between her legs. Then her eyes slid up to Graham’s chest, two hard points of muscle rising and falling under lean skin. The jade band of his shorts clung to his hips, and Maddie could see the outline of his cock pressing against fabric—evidence of his arousal in the dim hall light. Vanessa raised an eyebrow, slowly raised it, and only then did she speak.
“Well,” she said, voice deliberate and silky. “This is…interesting.”
Graham stepped back, but not far enough to fully release Maddie. She felt the sharp line of his palm splay against her hip, holding her close. Vanessa’s eyes traced the curve of Maddie’s body—from the slight sheen of sweat at her collarbone to the taut curve of her waist to the hollow of her throat. Maddie found herself breathing faster, every nerve ending alive. She felt exposed and electrified all at once.
Graham cleared his throat. “Vanessa—”
She held up a hand, eyes flicking from one to the other as if weighing them, assessing the stakes. A slow, predatory smile curved her lips. “Just a moment. I want to see everything.”
Maddie’s breath caught. She slid one hand up to cup the back of Graham’s neck, tangling fingers in the fine stubble there. “Vanessa,” she whispered. Her heart hammered. “I—”
Vanessa tilted her head, as though studying a rare painting in a museum. She reached out and lifted a stray lock of Maddie’s hair, brushing it behind her ear. Her fingers lingered on Maddie’s cheek. “You’re breathtaking,” she whispered, voice low. “I can’t decide if I want to scare you away or keep you here forever.”
Graham’s fingers tightened on Maddie’s hip. “Babe,” he said, throat thick, “we weren’t—”
“Quiet, Graham,” Vanessa interrupted, turning her gaze back to Maddie. Her eyes were dark, almost black in the hall’s muted glow. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Maddie Demeter.”
Maddie’s pulse soared. No shame in her voice. No outrage at being interrupted. Just that quiet power. She took a deep breath, lifted her chin, and met Vanessa’s stare head-on.
“Am I?” Maddie breathed. “Or maybe you are.”
For a split second, Vanessa’s expression flickered—surprise? Delight? Both? Then her lips curved into a slow, wicked smile. She set down the tumbler of ice water on the ginkgo table and stepped closer—so close that Maddie could feel the flutter of her breath. One of Vanessa’s hands reached out and trailed along Maddie’s bare arm, dragging down to her wrist, then sliding up the inside of her forearm, slow and deliberate, until her slender fingers danced over Maddie’s collarbone.
Maddie’s nipples tightened even more against the cotton. The air between the three of them crackled like charged silk. Graham’s fingers squeezed Maddie’s hip, and she leaned back into him, pressing her body flush with his. She could feel his hard length beneath the fabric of his shorts, pressing into the cleft at her hip. A shiver of want and shame shot through her. For one intoxicating moment, she was suspended between the two Hartleys—one watching, one holding, one wanting.
Then Vanessa’s other hand found Graham’s chest, brushing upward—caressing the hard plane of his abs, the ridge of his ribs, the taut skin stretched over muscle. Graham inhaled sharply, tilting his head into her palm. Maddie watched, enthralled, as Vanessa’s fingertips ghosted across Graham’s skin. Her touch was cool, confident—like silk on bare flesh.
Graham closed his eyes and leaned into Vanessa’s hand, jaw working. One of Maddie’s hands moved to his chest, resting over Vanessa’s palm, as if staking a silent claim. Vanessa’s gaze slid back to Maddie, and in her eyes there was that same predatory spark—like she was deciding whether Maddie was a toy to be played with or prey to be devoured.
Maddie’s heart raced. She swallowed hard, throat dry. After a moment that stretched on forever, Vanessa stepped back, her fingers trailing off Graham’s skin as if she’d intentionally decided to leave him wanting more.
She turned her eyes back on Maddie. “Go back to your room,” she said, voice low but firm. “Right now.”
Graham’s grip on Maddie loosened, but only slightly. He stayed a step behind her, as if shielding her. His gaze flickered between Maddie and Vanessa, torn. “Babe—”
“Now,” Vanessa said. With a single flick of her wrist, she indicated the hallway behind Maddie. “I’ll be in the master suite. If you want to think about being…’useful,’ come find me. Not him.”
She looked directly at Graham. “Do you understand?”
Graham nodded, dark expression storming, as he finally released Maddie’s hip. “Yes.” Then he reached out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind Maddie’s ear. “Be safe.”
Maddie’s breath came in ragged pants. Her pulse still thundered. She took one last look at Vanessa—who was now deliberately stepping into the study’s warm light, wrapping her robe tighter around her body, revealing just enough of her tan legs to make Maddie’s mouth go dry.
Then Maddie allowed Graham to guide her away—down the hallway, every step weighted with confusion, desire, and guilt—until the frosted glass of her door was in front of her. Graham stepped inside, closing it softly behind them. Only when Maddie felt the door click shut did she dare to exhale.
The room was suddenly stifling—hot, fragrant with vanilla, fuzzy with the memory of what had happened in the hallway. The candle flickered, shadows dancing across the pale walls. Graham turned to her, his chest heaving, eyes dark with need and something else—regret? Possession?
He reached up, brushed a thumb across her lower lip. “Maddie,” he whispered, voice a husky growl. “I—”
Before he could finish, Maddie closed the distance and pressed her body against his. The gray tee slipped off one shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her slightly so she clung to him. She pushed her lips to his neck, tasting the salt of his skin, the faint trace of his expensive cologne, feeling the coarse stubble scratch her lips as his jaw shifted.
“Don’t,” she murmured against his throat. “Don’t apologize.”
He dropped his head, capturing her mouth in a fierce, demanding kiss. His lips parted hers, tongue sliding in with a hungry, urgent glide. Maddie’s arms wound around his shoulders, sending small shivers across her skin as she rocked against him. The kiss was sloppy at first—two people overwhelmed by want, failing to keep composure—but it quickly found rhythm: slow, deep, insistent.
His hand roamed up her back, sliding beneath the loose tee until his fingers grazed the soft swell of her breasts. Maddie gasped into his mouth as his fingers teased the hard peaks of her nipples, pulling the cotton cloth taut. He cupped one breast, thumb brushing over the areola, and her body bucked instinctively—so much heat coiled between her legs that she could feel the dampness pooling in the core of her thighs.
Graham’s free hand slid down her back, over the gentle curve of her hip, and lower—until his fingertips found the junction where thigh meets hip. He paused there, thumb tracing lazy circles over the slick, heated flesh of her inner thigh. Maddie moaned, her breath catching in her chest as the sensation ignited a blaze in her pelvis.
He broke the kiss, his lips brushing her temple. “Please,” he rasped, voice thick. “Please don’t leave me like this.”
Maddie’s skin tingled where his breath stirred her ear. “I won’t,” she whispered, teeth grazing his earlobe. She dropped to her knees, gathering handfuls of his navy lounge shorts in her fists, tugging them down with slow, deliberate ease. The waistband slid below his firm hips—barely concealing the outline of his hard cock. Once the shorts pooled around his ankles, she kicked them aside. Nightlight gleamed off his cock, teased to full hardness under the moonlight streaming through her window. The tip was heavy, glistening with pre-cum, veins standing out like raised ridges along the shaft. Her mouth watered.
Graham’s hands found her hair, guiding her head up until hers was level with his cock. He watched through hooded lids as she traced a finger along the underside of his shaft—delicate, testing—and he shuddered. Maddie closed her eyes, lips parting, and leaned forward. She brushed one soft kiss against the tip, then slowly—oh so fucking slowly—wrapped her lips around him. The warmth and wetness of her mouth closed over his hardness like silk over musk. Her tongue swept along the underside, drawing circles, flicking back to the tip again and again. The sensation was electric. She felt Graham’s breath hitch, sensed him gathering all his willpower to stay steady.
She didn’t give him that reprieve. She took hold deeper, sliding her hand up to wrap around the base. Her long, manicured nails, painted a glossy deep burgundy, were filed down so they couldn’t scratch, but she used the pads of her fingers to knead the muscle above his balls, thumb brushing the underside of the head. Graham’s grip on her hair tightened. He dropped his hands to her shoulders, holding her still as she used her tongue to swirl around the tip, tasting himself. The thick pre-cum coated her tongue, warm and sticky.
Maddie slid deeper, until his cock hit the back of her throat. She felt the slight scratch of stubble on her tongue, and she swallowed him, hollowing her cheeks in a slow, deliberate suction. Graham’s eyes fluttered closed, head falling back against the headboard. Every so often, he’d push further, testing how much she could take. Each time, she’d open her throat wider until he bottomed out. Her nose brushed the base of his cock; fingertips splayed on his thighs to steady herself.
She bobbed with a purposeful rhythm—faster, slower, circling at the tip, swirling around the underside—using every inch of her lips, her tongue, her throat. With each motion, she felt his hardness swell, felt the slick heat rub across her tongue. She took a hand from her hair and let it drift lower—palms brushing up his legs, kneading the strong muscle under her fingers, then tracing slow, teasing circles around the tender spot just behind his knee. When her fingertips returned to his shaft, she trailed them upward, brushing past one of the thick veins as though it were an arrow pointing straight to his center.
Graham bucked his hips, sending a wave of friction through her mouth. “Fuck,” he groaned, voice thick. “Maddie.”
She responded by hollowing her cheeks and taking him deeper, swallowing around him like water slipping over a stone. Her hair tousled around his thighs; her chest pressed against the crisp cotton of his shorts. She felt his cock pulse, pre-come gathering at the tip in thick beads. She savored the flavor, the salty sweet essence of him. When she pulled back—lips popping softly—he hissed, almost a growl, and she knew he was on the edge.
Maddie rose slowly, her mouth releasing him inch by inch until barely the tip remained between her lips. She looked up at him with dark, smoky eyes, tongue tracing a slow line of pre-cum from base to tip. Then she dropped to her knees and kissed the head—deep, wet, making it leak tiny ribbons of come down the underside of his shaft.
Graham’s hands fisted in her hair, guiding her, but she resisted being pulled. She wanted control. She wanted to watch him. She stood on her knees and pulled the shorts the rest of the way off, stepping back as soon as they fell. Graham’s cock sprang free, heavy and slick in the moonlight. Maddie pressed her hands against his thighs again, lifting her gaze to his face. His eyes were half-lidded, dark with need. The tip was glistening with precum; the shaft pulsed in her palm.
She stood, and Graham stepped closer—lean, towering over her. He cupped the back of her head, brushing his fingers along her jaw. “Please,” he rasped. “God, please.”
Maddie backed up until her shoulders grazed the foot of her bed. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath—soaking in the smell of her own faint perfume, of the candle’s burning wick. When she opened her eyes, she smiled a little crooked smile. She reached down, placing one hand on each cheek of his ass—strong, round, firm. She pressed in, just enough to feel the give of muscle. Then she ran her fingers up the cleft, tracing the soft valley of his crack, letting her palm brush the base of his balls.
Graham exhaled sharply, hips flexing forward.
Maddie bent her knees slightly, ass pressing back, inviting him to follow. “I want you inside me,” she whispered. “Please.”
His lips parted at that; a groan tore from his chest. “Fuck,” he said, voice ragged. “I want you so bad.”
He positioned himself at her entrance—moist, glistening in the pale light. Gently, slowly, he pressed in. Maddie gasped, fingers digging into his broad shoulders. His cock slid into her with a low, wet sound—soft at first, stretching her, filling her completely. She felt the tip nudge against the place inside her that made her thighs quake. She clenched around him, squeezing tight, testing him. Graham sank in deeper until he bottomed out. Their eyes met: his dark, dizzy with lust; hers bright blue, glistening with tears of pleasure.
For a moment, neither moved. Just standing there, two bodies locked at the most intimate place, breathing each other’s air, feeling each other’s heat. Then he sank his head into her neck, nipping the skin with his teeth, and she moaned—a low, guttural sound that shivered through her chest.
Graham slowly pulled back until just the head remained inside her. Then he sank forward again, thrusting in—always gentle, never sudden, as if savoring each inch. Maddie tilted her head back, letting her hand slip to the back of his head, guiding him. His other hand found her hip, gripping tight. With each thrust, she felt the tip brush the spot inside her, sending shocks of pleasure up her spine.
He started with long, measured strokes—slow, fucking her with exquisite care. Maddie’s nails dug into his shoulders as she rode him, letting her body follow each movement. The sensation was incredible: the heat of him filling her, the stretch of him sliding in and out, the wet friction that made her whole body hum. She pressed her chest against his, breasts flattened against his hard torso, nipples grazing his skin. Each time he pulled back, it pulled a low gasp from her lips. Each time he plunged in, it made her legs buckle.
Soon he sped up—shorter, sharper, thrusts that drove deep into her core. She wrapped her legs around his waist, ankles crossing at the small of his back, pulling him closer so every inch of him was inside her. The mattress shifted as they moved—bare wood creaking, sheets rustling. He held her tight, guiding her hips up and down, until she felt pleasure building—a low, thrumming current in her belly.
“Maddie,” he groaned, voice thick and raw. “You feel so fucking good.”
She closed her eyes, head thrown back. “Graham,” she panted. “I’m so close.”
He shifted, angling his hips until each thrust landed even deeper, brushing that sweet spot inside her. Maddie’s back arched, nails scratching down his arms as her moans grew louder, wetter. Her breath hitched, then rushed out in a ragged crescendo as the tension inside her snapped—her entire body convulsing in a rush of pure, white heat. She cried out, voice echoing in the quiet room, as waves of pleasure radiated through her chest, down her thighs, out through her toes.
Graham held her through it, hips stuttering once, twice, and then he followed her over the edge—his own release ripping through him in a guttural roar. He stilled, shuddering as he came, releasing deep inside her. His seed spilled in soft, hot surges that made her belly tighten. They both rocked together through the last throes of ecstasy—skin slick with sweat, breath mingling, hearts pounding in unison.
When the waves finally subsided, they stood there, trembling, still attached. His arms wrapped around her, holding her up, and she clung to him—face buried in his chest, listening to the strong beat of his heart.
After a moment, he lifted her chin and kissed her—softly, tenderly, as if to remind her that this was more than lust. She kissed him back, brushing her lips against his stubbled jaw, then his full mouth, tasting the salt of his release.
“God,” he whispered against her lips. “That was…incredible.”
She exhaled, letting her body relax. “I needed that,” she admitted, voice soft. “I’ve been on fire all night.”
He cradled her face, running a thumb over her cheek. “Me too.”
They sank down onto the bed, still intertwined, limbs tangled. Maddie curled against him, feeling his strong arms wrap around her. For a long time they lay like that—skin to skin, breathing together, until the tension in her body finally dissolved into a comfortable warmth.
Then Graham shifted, pulling the sheet up over them. He kissed her forehead, then her temple, then her lips once more. “Tomorrow morning…breakfast?” he murmured.
Maddie smiled sleepily. “I’d like that.”
He tucked her hair behind her ear, brushing his thumb across her cheek. “I’ll wake you early,” he whispered.
She closed her eyes. “Don’t be surprised if I’m already waiting. Too excited to sleep again.”
He chuckled, low and content, and held her closer. “Never be surprised, Maddie. Never.”
To Be Continued…
Maddie’s Page
