Fallen Bast*rd

Ax/West 22 Years old

The kitchen is bustling with noise as Willa and our mums unload groceries, but my attention is elsewhere. Watching Willa help them carry in bags of shopping, I find myself absentmindedly adjusting my jeans.

Ever since that at Inferno, the way she felt, hell, the way she tasted has been stuck on my mind on repeat. Doesn't help that it's June and she's wearing a sundress that, when it catches the sun, it becomes sheer; God bless whoever invented them.

"Perving on my sister again?" Bryan asks, sliding into the seat opposite mine, actively blocking my view of the kitchen door. ‘cockblocker.’

I grimace and reply, "What makes you think that?" before taking a sip from my ice-cold beer. Bryan smirks, his gaze dropping to my lap.

"You've adjusted yourself like five times, and you've been watching the kitchen door like it's the most interesting thing you've seen all year." He leans back, shifting his focus to a pair of club girls locked in a vigorous kiss across the room

Watching Bryan, I roll my eyes, my irritation growing by the second. 'What's he even doing here? He's not a club brother, and dinner isn't for another five hours.’ Narrowing my eyes, I ask, "You here for a reason, Bry?" The question hangs in the air, and for a moment, I wonder if he'll give me an honest answer.

"Yeah, I was the chauffeur for this little shopping expedition." He says, flashing a quick smile.

"You know, you're not bad-looking; it makes me wonder why you're messing with the club girls?" I ask, my tone half-joking, half-serious.

"Yeah, you think so?" he says, rubbing his chiselled jaw. "I happen to like the club girls. They've got huge personalities and zero expectations of breakfast in the morning." He says, draining his beer and pushing away from the table, then heads over to Ruby and BJ. 'Good luck, hope you brought your own sleeves.'

Finishing the rest of my beer, I decide to retreat to the sanctuary of my office, no danger of anyone else talking to me about their s*x life in there.

*

Dropping into my ergonomic chair, I reach beneath the desk for a chilled bottle of Asahi from the minifridge. Just as I pop the lid and lean back for a sip, a knock interrupts my moment of peace. ‘Not now. Please, just go away.’

"Come in!" I shout, not really expecting to be heard. The door swings open and there stands my personal tormentor.

"Hey, Aunt Lilly said to bring these to you," Willa announces, holding up a stack of mail. The movement of her dress draws my attention for a split second; a reminder of the effect she has on me.

Closing the door, she enters my office and wearily approaches the desk as though approaching a wild animal. I can't blame her; every meeting since Inferno has been tense, and not in a sexy way.

"You, okay?" she asks gently, placing the mail on my desk. When did she get this close? Damn, she smells good, like fruit, vanilla and sin. Stirring memories and emotions I struggle to suppress.

Locking eyes with me, she reaches for my beer. As the rim touches her plump lips, my d**k throbs, remembering the feel of wrapped around me. s**t. She takes a long sip, and her lids lower slightly as though savouring the taste.

Lowering the bottle, she licks her lips and turns to leave. Without thinking, I reach out and grasp her wrist, gently pulling her onto my lap. Willa gasps as she lands in my lap; my hands find her waist, roaming freely while, with growing intensity, my mouth explores her neck, kissing, sucking, nibbling.

Arching her, Willa's hands reach into my hair, fingers gently tugging me closer. As my hands lift the hem of her dress, skimming her toned thighs, breathy moans escape her lips.

My fingers slide beneath the lace of her panties, tugging them down her hips. She kicks herself free of them, then turns to straddle me.

God, she's beautiful, eyes blown wide with lust, chest heaving. f*****g perfect.

Groaning, Willa grinds her bare cores against me, my jean-clad hardon eliciting a groan. Her hand lightly wraps around my throat as her lips meet mine in an achingly seductive kiss, her tongue exploring my mouth with slow, teasing strokes.

Willa's free hand slowly works to free me from the confines of my jeans. Not wanting the kiss to end, I slip my hands over hers, eager to help her along.

Our goal achieved, she gently moves my hand aside, leaving them free to lift her dress as she guides her wet, warm core over mine. I reach breaking point as she slowly lowers herself onto me, her back arches, and our moans mingle in the air.

Pressing her hips closer, we share a hungry kiss; the tiniest move of her hips ignites our hunger. My hands grip her hips as the sound of the door banging open stops us dead.

"Oh God, my eyes!" squeals Georgie from the doorway. "Jesus, Georgie, shut the bloody door!" Snaps Willa as I hastily lower the hem of her dress. With every movement she makes, I bite my lip, struggling to suppress groan after groan as she clenches around my throbbing hardon.

"Ever heard of knocking?" I grate out, looking over Willa's shoulder. Smirking, Georgie leans against the door. "Ever heard of locks, great invention them." She laughs, her body shaking with amusement.

"And besides, Mum sent me to find Willa, because, and I quote, I sent her to deliver mail, not DIC-tate each letter", she says, a broad smile stretching across her face.

I very much doubt our mother put that much emphasis on the word 'dictate'. Sighing, I let my head rock back against the chair.

"Georgie, unless you wanna see how well-endowed your brother is, I suggest you turn around." Willa huffs, her cheeks flushing slightly as she rocks her hips forward and slowly rises off me, straightening her dress. She shoots me a smirk.

Winking, I roll my chair under the desk, effectively covering my manhood. Leaning down, Willa kisses me, the kinda kiss that's more a promise than a farewell.

As they leave my office in a hush of whispered laughter and hurried footsteps, I reach under my desk and engage the automatic lock. The soft click of the mechanism echoes in the quiet room. If only I'd remembered it earlier.