Something instinctive and hungry overrode every rational thought. My fingers curled tighter instead of pulling away, I gripped his cock more firmly through the thin cotton, feeling the thick ridge of the head and the heavy throb of blood rushing under my hand.
Adrian’s breath left him in a low, dangerous exhale.
Neither of us moved.
My hand stayed locked around the hard shape of his cock, and the entire room seemed to hold its breath with us.
His cock is large, and I can feel the warmth of it.
It takes me a moment to realize where my hand is—and how long it has been there. I immediately tear it away.
I lowered my head unable to meet his gaze. “I'm sorry. ”
“It's fine.” He rasped and I swear, from the corner of my eyes, I saw his lips twitched as if he liked what I just did.
I shifted the thoughts away and tore open a packet of steri-strips with my teeth because my hands weren’t completely steady. When I pressed the first strip across the cut, my palm rested fully against the soft skin of his inner thigh. The heat of him soaked into me. I could feel the subtle shift of muscle as his cock twitched again, harder now, the outline unmistakably thick and insistent against the cotton.
My own body answered with a slow, heavy pulse between my legs.
I applied the second strip more slowly than necessary. My thumb traced a short, deliberate path along the edge of the wound, then drifted half an inch higher than it needed to. The tip of my finger brushed the crease where thigh met the heavy base of him. Adrian’s breath left him in a quiet, controlled exhale that sounded like restraint.
“You’re shaking,” he murmured again.
“No, I’m not.”
But I was. The drug was still working through me, turning every point of contact into something sharper, hungrier. I could feel how wet I was. I could feel how close his cock was to my hand. And I could feel the exact moment the professional distance I’d been clinging to started to crack.
I taped the small bandage in place, then let my hand rest there a second longer than any doctor should. My palm was warm against his thigh. His cock was hard enough now that the head pressed clearly against the fabric, only a breath away from my fingers.
Adrian’s voice dropped even lower.
“You should stop touching me like that.”
I looked up at him. “Like what?”
His eyes flicked down to where my hand still rested against his skin, then back to my face. Something dangerous and wanting moved behind them.
“Its feels as if you're not just treating a cut. Its like you want something far more than that right?”
I didn't respond but he's right. The silence that followed was thick enough to feel. I didn’t move my hand. He didn’t push it away. The only sound in the room was the soft, uneven rhythm of our breathing and the distant ticking of a clock somewhere in the house.
I was still on my knees between his spread thighs, dressed in the red lace his twin had left me in, and the man in front of me was hard and bleeding and looking at me like he already knew exactly how this was going to end..
“I need to lift one side of these,” I said, nodding at the other side boxer. I don't want to answer the question. “To see the second cut properly.”
“Do it.”
I reached for the leg opening. My fingers brushed the heavy shape of his cock through the cotton as I worked the fabric up. The contact was brief, almost accidental—except it wasn’t. His cock jumped hard under my knuckles again. A sharp, rough gasp tore out of him. His breathing changed immediately, turning deeper, heavier.
“Jeez,” he cursed.
He was so warm. Even through the thin material the heat of him sank into my palm. I left my hand there a second longer than necessary, feeling the shaft thicken and rise against my fingers. It hardened like stone under my touch, the thick ridge of the head pushing upward until it strained against the waistband. My own pussy clenched hard. Fresh wetness flooded the crotch of my panties until I was certain he would be able to smell me if I stayed this close.
I wished he would just grab my hair and shove his cock down my throat.
I wished he would bend me over the bed and fuck me until I couldn’t walk.
But he was Ethan’s twin. Ethan’s blood. The man who shared my husband’s face and body. Touching him like this was already a betrayal. Wanting more was worse.
I swallowed hard and forced myself to focus.
I lifted the left side of the boxers carefully, dragging the fabric up and over the heavy sac of his balls. The cut was there, small but deep, still seeping blood along the sensitive skin where the scrotum met his inner thigh. I tried to keep my eyes on the wound. It was almost impossible. His cock was right there, only inches from my face, still trapped under the stretched cotton but clearly massive. The head was already starting to push free of the waistband, shiny and flushed.
Every time my fingers brushed the shaft while I adjusted the fabric, it twitched and hardened further. I could feel the thick pulse of blood filling him. My nipples were so tight they ached inside the lace. Sweat had begun to gather between my breasts and at the small of my back.
I reached for the cotton and antiseptic I had grabbed beside his bed. My hands were not steady.
“This will sting,” I warned.
“Just do it. Don’t underestimate me.”
I pressed the soaked cotton to the cut. Adrian’s thighs tensed hard on either side of me. A low, gritted sound left his throat. His cock jerked violently against the fabric, the fat head finally shoving completely free of the waistband and rising up against his stomach, thick and dark. The slit is already glistening with a bead of precum.
I cleaned the wound slowly, deliberately, because part of me didn’t want the contact to end. Every small movement of my hand made the side of my wrist drag along the underside of his shaft. He was burning hot. The skin of his balls was tight and smooth and radiated heat against my knuckles. I could feel him getting harder with every second I stayed on my knees in front of him.
My arms started to tremble.
The drug was still climbing. Heat rolled through my thighs in thick waves, turning the muscles soft and unreliable. I tried to shift my weight, to steady myself against his knee, but the strength simply wasn’t there. My legs gave out without warning.
My face dropped forward.
The soft, hot length of his cock met my cheek, then the corner of my mouth. The sudden contact shocked the air from my lungs. For one suspended second I stayed exactly where I had fallen, lips parted against the thick, velvet heat of him, breath ghosting over the wet tip. The scent of him filled my head.
Something instinctive and desperate moved through me before thought could stop it.
My tongue slipped out to lick the tip of his cock. Just enough to taste the single bead of precum that had gathered there. It was warm and slightly bitter and entirely him. It's also sweet.
“Mmmhh….” A broken sound left my throat half gasp, half moan and the vibration of it traveled straight into his cock.
Adrian’s entire body went rigid.
His hand shot to the back of my head, not forcing, not pushing, simply locking me in place as if he couldn’t trust himself to let go. His breathing turned harsh and uneven above me. I felt the heavy pulse of blood under my tongue, felt him thicken even further against my open mouth.
I should have pulled away. But I didn’t.
The silence that followed was absolute. Only the sound of our breathing filled the room—mine soft and shaky against his skin, his rough and barely controlled. The weight of what had just happened settled between us like a live wire. I was still on my knees, lips brushing the head of his cock, the taste of him lingering on my tongue. He was still holding the back of my head as if the smallest movement might shatter whatever thin line remained between us.
When he finally spoke, his voice was low and dark and dangerous.
“Lena.”
I lifted my eyes without moving my mouth away.
His gaze burned down into mine. Something irreversible had shifted in the space of that single, accidental taste. The air itself felt different, charged, heavy, and waiting.
Neither of us looked away.
Neither of us moved.
The next breath either of us took would decide everything.
“Do you want my cock?”