Chapter 35
“I choose you.”
— Nia Quill, An Exclamation
Idon’t know why in the world Maddox would choose me over all the other women in Riverglade probably crying over their plates of food, but he has.
He’s choosing me.
It’s all we want, isn’t it?
To be chosen.
Not by just anyone but by the right person at the right time.
I really hope this is the right time, and heaven help us both, because I think this might be the right person.
My body comes alive under his touch like all those fires he built, sparks growing into flames.
My bra falls to the ground, followed by my knickers.
His low hum of pleasure vibrates against my skin as he urges me between his parted knees and takes the stiff peak of my breast between his lips.
Large hands knead my hips, squeezing, marking, branding as I press kisses to his damp hair that smells like rain and him.
The problems that exist outside this cavern fade into nothing.
It’s just the two of us.
Discovering ways to lose ourselves in each other.
Maddox tugs me onto the bed, and I fall down next to him, loving his shadow as it comes over me. The weight of his body dipping the mattress next to mine. The heat radiating from his beautiful, colorful skin.
My Unseelie is a quick learner, his hand slipping between my thighs to where I ache. Soothing. Teasing. Torturing until my legs begin to quiver.
Last night was about me.
Tonight . . .
Tonight, I want this to be about us both.
I catch his wrist and drag his hand from between my thighs, urging him back onto the mattress.
His sharp smile flashes in the dimming light while shadows dance across the ridges of his chest. The planes of his stomach. The trousers are doing a terrible job of hiding his own desire.
I tug on the leather strap of his belt. “Will we take these off?”
Will he let me choose him tonight?
Maddox leaps to his feet, the sudden absence of his weight knocking me onto my backside. He shoves his trousers down his thighs so fast, he collides with the chair in his haste to kick them off.
He earns extra points for enthusiasm.
And even more for owning that.
The one time I saw him disrobed was riddled with embarrassment and discomfort. None of that exists now as I motion for him to join me, urging him to lie back on the mattress. He is even larger than I remember and continues to thicken when I take him in my fist and begin to stroke.
“No nettle stings today,” I murmur, fascinated by the way his abdominals flex and breath stutters with each solid stroke.
Raising his hands, he covers his face, but a smile peeks through. “Must you resurrect my greatest shame?”
He has nothing to be ashamed about. There is nothing shameful about Maddox Finch.
With my hand still wrapped firmly around his base, I lean down, taking him into my mouth.
His hands fly away, his eyes bulging as he gapes down at me, his breath rushing with a wheeze. “What is this you do?”
Knowing I’m the only woman who has ever had him makes me feel special. Like these stolen moments together mean more than I ever imagined they would. Like I’m not just someone with whom to pass the time. Like I’m worth being chosen.
I replace my lips with my tongue, flicking, earning whimpers and curses. “Do you like it?”
“I like all the things you do,” he chokes, his chest rising and falling as he struggles to catch his breath. “You could . . . stab me, and I would . . . ask you to . . . do it again.”
I let my teeth graze his length; his hands bunch the quilt at his sides, the veins in his forearms straining. “Bear that in mind the next time you make me angry.”
Luckily, I do not need a dagger to bring this man to his knees. He might be the strongest person I know, but one long drag is all it takes to turn him into mush.
His stomach flexes and dark eyes watch me work him until he’s panting, his hips lifting to meet me, urging himself deeper, drawing tears from my eyes.
“Nia . . . Nia . . . Nia—”
He comes with a moan and my name on his lips. No sign of my surname because we’ve claimed each other.
I take every drop, swallowing him down, hoping to draw out his pleasure the way he did mine in the cave. When he’s fully satiated, I sit back on my heels, trying to figure out why he’s frowning. The man should be beaming, not looking like he’s just been given a riddle to solve. “What’s wrong?”
He cards both hands through his hair, a look of pure horror overtaking his handsome face. “Number eight. You did not finish first.”
Always so worried about me. Here I didn’t think I could find him more endearing. “Consider the list more like a guideline.”
The words are barely off my lips before he catches my waist and tosses me back onto the bed. With my knees splayed, he drags a knuckle through my folds. “I can put my mouth here?”
Thank goodness I accepted the Unseelies’ offer to bathe before they gave me that shapeless, itchy gown. “If you want—”
He buries his face between my thighs, devouring with abandon, not needing guidance other than a garbled, “Right there.”
Heavens, he’s a quick learner, applying last night’s lesson of pressure and precision to his very rough, very large, very eager tongue.
“Yes. Just like that.” Just like that. His hair is so dark and thick, the perfect grip for my hands. That feels so bloody good . . . “You’re so good at that. Don’t stop. Keep going. I’m close. I’m—”
There.
Coming apart. Seeing stars in this dark cavern. Losing myself. Finding him as he kneels between my spread thighs, staring down at me through eyes as dark as the night falling around us.
His stiffness has returned, which is perfect for what I have planned.
I’m not finished with Maddox yet . . .
I’m not sure I’ll ever be.
My hand trembles as I reach forward, wrapping my hand around his hardness. “I thought I took care of this.”
He twitches with his laugh, the gruff sound piercing my pounding heart. “He is very excited.”
“I can see that.” So am I. I tug him closer. “Come here.”
He plants his hands on either side of my head, his heaving chest brushing and grazing against mine, hips notching into place as I urge him even closer, lining him up with my center.
“Now . . .” I hook an ankle around the back of his thigh, pulling him closer. Against me. Into me.
Maddox stills with a gruff curse. “This is not right.”
How can he possibly say that? Nothing has ever felt as right as this moment, as he and I. Does he not feel this connection? Has he changed his mind?
His arms start to tremble from holding his weight, from his own restraint. “Raven says I will snap you in half. What if she is right? I do not wish to hurt you.”
That wretched Unseelie . . . I’ll snap Raven in half the next time I see her.
If Kerris and Everett can make this work, then so can we.
I hook my second leg around his, pulling him into me. There’s a bit of pain, but that will ease. “We just need more lubrication.”
Maddox’s brow furrows as he blinks down at me.
“More wetness,” I explain.
With a nod, he hollows his cheeks and spits on my slit. Fisting his manhood, he drags his head through our wetness, coating himself before trying once more.
This time, he glides even deeper. Deeper than anyone has ever been.
“See? Just go slow.” Give my body a chance to adjust to the beautiful invasion. “That feels so good. You feel good, Maddox.”
He pants against my neck, our skin slick with sweat as we find the perfect rhythm with our bodies. Our hearts. Our souls.
Choosing each other over and over again.
Fanning the flames of desire until they’re all we can see. All we can feel.
“Harder.” I want to ache from him in the morning. To still feel him in a week.
He thrusts his hips deeper, his harsh exhales becoming my inhales. His give, my take.
“Try to snap me in half. Go on. I dare you.” Let Raven and all those other women eyeing my Unseelie know that he’s already spoken for.
His nostrils flare, and madness descends. He throws my legs back to my ears and bucks into me, hitting even deeper. So deep I feel like I’m going to shatter in the most perfect way.
“I should . . .” he pants.
“Should what?” I moan.
“Gryff said . . . pull out.”
“No.” My ankles lock behind his head. “I’m on a tonic.” There’s no need to worry about bringing new life into this world. Not yet.
“What is . . .” He’s losing his rhythm, and I’m losing what little control I still possess.
“Inside, Maddox. I want you to come inside of me. I choose you.” Every. Single. Time. “Choose me too. Choose me, Maddox.”
His hips punch forward once. Twice. A third time. Hitting that perfect spot. Rupturing my tenuous grip on this reality. The one where I’ve been ravaged by an Unseelie warrior as good and kind and beautiful as Maddox Finch.
The one where he’s breathing my name and pulsing inside of me.
The one where we both collapse, boneless and panting.
The one where he’s still inside of me when he draws me close and we both succumb to sleep.