TRISTAN
What the f**k is wrong with you?
I cursed under my breath the second I closed the bedroom door behind me, leaning back against it like the wood could hold me together. My chest was still heaving. My fingers still tasted like her- so sweet, f*****g addictive, the slick evidence of Maya’s dripping little cunt burned into my tongue.
She was my cousin’s daughter. My own blood, even if distant. Twenty years old. Innocent. Virgin until last night. And I’d just sucked her juices off her fingers like a starving animal.
“f**k,” I growled, dragging a hand down my face. “You’re slipping, Desmond. You’re f*****g slipping.”
I’d spent years keeping my distance. Years burying every filthy thought I had about her since that garden party when she turned sixteen and suddenly looked at me like I
