Rule Breakers (Off Limits #2) - Nicky James Page 0,31

of my memories was disturbing. I remembered the intense color of Edison’s lips, the shimmering lust radiating from his smoky gray eyes, the smooth paleness of his flawless skin. The way he arched his back, the way he gripped the sheets, the disheveled mess of his blond hair. His moaning cries resonated in perfect surround sound inside my head like I was back there again, listening to him come over and over and over.

But that wasn’t the most disturbing part.

What made my skin crawl, what made my stomach tighten into a coiled ball of unease, was what had happened after Edison had come. It was his words, encouraging me on as I’d fucked his uncle. It was the actions I’d taken when it was over. The sensation of his throat against my palm, his blown pupils staring up at me, his cock hard against my leg, and my words to him.

“I’m not afraid to fuck you, Edison.”

I heard them again and again and again. Had I really said that?

I shut off the shower and got out, shivering and not feeling any cleaner than when I’d gotten in. I made a weak effort to dry off before I wrapped the towel around my waist and sought the bottle of Jack.

I dropped onto the side of my bed and tried to think rationally—or as rationally as a person could think when referring to sexual deviance between family members.

“God, I’m fucking old. When did I start giving a shit?” I pinched the bridge of my nose and collapsed back on the bed.

I traced a timeline of my life, starting back in high school when I’d bloomed into this sexual beast after losing my virginity to Tesla Macklin in eleventh grade. She’d been known at the time as the class slut, so of course I’d taken a turn, proving the rumors correct. Plus, she had a cool name.

Tesla had opened the door to a world I’d never imagined. Sex was everything. Sex was life. I had also been sixteen, so there was a possibility my hormones had been out of control.

It was also during high school when I’d realized I didn’t care one way or another where sex came from as long as I was getting some. I was equally willing to fuck guys or girls. During my senior year, Justin Ackerman, a guy who bore a striking resemblance to a young Freddie Prinze Jr.—which I was not complaining about—had invited me to suck his cock in the back of his parents’ ten-year-old Camry. So I had. In return, Justin had been the first person to wrap his lips around my dick, sending me into orbit.

From there, I’d taken to sneaking into clubs with a fake ID and getting laid as often as I could. A few times, those experiences had involved men twice my age who probably would have had a coronary if they’d known I was only seventeen. I’d been tied up, spanked, and fucked six ways from Sunday before I’d graduated high school. All of it done behind my parents’ backs.

They could never control me.

College had been a whole other level of excitement. It had provided a freedom I’d never known. There had been no more dodging parents and no more fake IDs. I’d done what I wanted, when I wanted, with whomever I wanted.

I’d done drugs of every color of the rainbow. Condoms had been optional. The only thing I’d cared about was the high of a good time, and I’d ridden it for all it was worth.

The night of Ramon’s party had been nothing but a higher tier of enjoyment I’d never considered before. Ending up in a basement orgy with my brother, having him suck my cock in front of an audience had been glorious. It was untoppable. Nothing I’d done before or since had compared.

The little trigger of immorality had never tripped. I’d loved the danger of it, having something I shouldn’t, exploring something not only illegal but morally unsound. It had been a thrill like nothing else.

But that wanton life had caught up with me. Shianne had ended up pregnant.

Edison’s existence had changed the course of my life. It had forced me to apply the brakes and evaluate who I was and where life was taking me.

He was born before I was twenty years old. I’d dropped out of school and had taken menial jobs to help take care of him. Out of some ridiculous sense of responsibility, I’d asked Shianne to marry me because it