Madden
Shit, I feel like such an asshole. I was an asshole.
I can’t believe I let Tristan get under my skin like that. Even worse, I feel terrible that I upset Megan.
The way she looked at me on the plane, like I’d plunged a knife in her chest or something, makes me feel sick.
I drag a hand through my hair. I’m not sure when it started, but I don’t think I can deny it any longer. I’m starting to care about Megan. As in real feelings.
Never saw that one coming.
I think back to the beginning of this competition, when she first caught my eye. I knew then that she caught Tristan’s eye too. I figured I set my sights on her because I can’t resist competing with him in anything and everything.
But now I think it’s more than that. I think I saw from the beginning that she was different. And now that I’ve spent more time with her, I know it’s true. She’s amazing.
I’m not sure how that’s supposed to work with this show, though. My job here is to knock out as many virgins as possible, something I didn’t have the least problem with. I mean, they flocked to me. It was too easy.
And don’t get me wrong, I totally want to be the first man that Megan has inside of her. But it’s not just about that anymore. I know this because part of my brain is telling me I want to be the only man she ever has inside of her.
And that’s fucking ridiculous. It flies in the face of who I am. My entire reputation is built on me being the billionaire playboy bachelor. It’s why I was brought on the show in the first place.
And now I find myself developing real feelings for the one person who I’m not supposed to be worried about. Other than fucking her brains out, that is. And getting her evicted from the house.
But I don’t want her to leave. Unless it’s with me.
A knock on my door pulls me out of my thoughts, and I’m fucking glad. That’s some shit I really don’t want to linger on too long. Way too dangerous to give it any true thought and consideration.
I yank open the door and find some production assistant with a headset on standing on the other side, a tablet in hand.
“Yeah?” I bite out, irritated that it’s not Megan.
“Um, Mr… um, well,” he stutters. Then he just thrusts the tablet toward me. “You’re supposed to watch this.”
I arch an eyebrow as the assistant I’ve never seen before scurries away. Then I shrug and shut my door again, carrying the tablet over to the chair in my room and sitting down. I stare at it for a long minute, not sure if I really want to watch.
For some reason, I have a bad feeling about it. Maybe because I know what happened the last time someone handed off a tablet. I swooped in and took Megan right out from under Tristan’s nose.
I’ll be fucking pissed if this is another announcement about the two of them going off on another date or something.
Might as well get this shit over with. I wake up the tablet and see that a video is already queued up.
I can see a still frame of Megan and Tristan in a pool.
Great. Just fucking fantastic. What the fuck is this shit?
I jab my finger at the little arrow to play the video. I’m not going to get out of watching it. I’m certain there are cameras trained on my face right now as I watch this, just waiting to catch my reaction, so I might as well do this and move on.
But as the video plays out on the tablet, my fingers tighten around the edges, and a roar in my ears nearly drowns out the audio.
My lip curls up as I watch Megan’s hand wrap around Tristan’s cock. Normally something like this would be fucking sexy. I might have my own cock out, stroking it as I watch. But right now, my hands are occupied by holding the tablet up to my face so I can get a better view of the expression on Megan’s face.
An expression of pure ecstasy as Tristan takes her tit in his mouth, her head thrown back, her fingers clutching him tightly to her. My teeth clamp down so hard that I feel like I might grind them into dust.
I’ve seen that look on her face before. Last night in the limo. With me.
And seeing it here? Now? With fucking Tristan? It makes me crazy. Like I want to break something. Maybe his face.
Especially when the video gets to the part where that arrogant face is shoved up in my woman’s pussy, licking and sucking her until she comes so hard, screaming and moaning his name. Not my name. Not, “Oh god, Madden, fuck me now.” But Tristan.
I don’t want to watch this shit, but I can’t seem to make myself stop. It’s like a car wreck that you can’t look away from. It’s sucking me in, just like—wait. Oh, hell no.
No fucking way.
Megan gave Tristan a blow job?
Yeah, about that not being able to look away thing? Fuck that. I’m not watching this garbage. I toss the tablet across the room, not even caring if it breaks.
What the fuck?
I mean, logically, I knew they messed around. I’m not an idiot. If she did those things with me, why wouldn’t she with Tristan? But some part of me hoped that I was wrong.
What I don’t get is the way it’s making me feel. I have some primal urge to rip Tristan’s fucking head off. What’s that about? I feel hot, my skin on fire, my pulse out of control.
Then it hits me. I’m jealous. Fucking jealous. Of fucking Tristan.
Not once in my life have I experienced this before, despite our lifelong history of competing against each other. Not like this. And I don’t have the first clue what to make of it.