Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Maddox
I wake up with the taste of Amelia still on my tongue and the ghost of her touch haunting my skin.
I don’t know what the fuck came over me last night, but when I saw her standing in the middle of the street, I knew I was done avoiding her.
I didn’t expect things would go the way that they did, though.
Fucking her in my truck felt cheap, but I wasn’t sure I’d ever get another chance, and it seems I was right about that.
By noon, I’ve convinced myself I need to see her again. Not because I’m weak—though God knows I am when it comes to her—but because I can’t leave things the way they are. Too many years have passed, and misunderstandings and lies have filled every one of them.
I grab my toolbox from the shed and load it into my truck. The mechanical bull at Rodeo Roundup needs fixing, and I need an excuse to see her, one that is viable and won’t have her throwing me out on my ass.
The bar is unusually quiet when I walk in, and I’m grateful for that. I prefer not to have an audience when I grovel, and I’m prepared to do a lot of fucking groveling.
I spot Amelia behind the counter, clipboard in hand, counting bottles for what appears to be a liquor delivery. Her hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail, and she’s wearing jeans that hug every curve I memorized with my hands last night.
She sees me and freezes. “Get out.”
I lift the toolbox in my hand. “I’m here to fix the bull.”
“How convenient,” she mumbles, diverting her gaze back to her clipboard.
I didn’t think she’d make this easy on me, but I didn’t expect it to be this bad. I clear my throat.
“I drove past Main Street. Didn’t see your car,” I say, hoping my words will get her to at least look in my direction.
They don’t.
“Shadow had it towed this morning,” she replies, scribbling something on her clipboard. “If you want to fix the bull, then get to work.” She shoots me a glare. “Then get out.”
I consider arguing with her for a moment but think better of it. I make my way to the mechanical bull in the corner of the bar. When it first broke, Amelia said it was the motor, but it looks to me like the control panel is busted. It’s an easy fix, and I get straight to work.
For an hour, the only sounds are the clink of bottles as Amelia inventories her stock and the occasional curse from me as I wrestle with the bull’s mechanics.
When I finally get the beast working again, I wipe my hands on a rag and approach the bar. “Should be good to go.”
She looks at me skeptically. “You fixed it?”
“I told you I’m good with my hands. I can fix just about anything.”
Apparently, everything except us.
“If you don’t believe me, you can test it out yourself.”
I don’t know why I say that. Seeing Amelia ride that bull might fucking kill me.
She rolls her eyes. “I’m working, Maddox.”
There is no good reason for me to press the issue, but I can’t seem to help myself.
“Bar’s empty.” It sounds like a dare, one I hope she’ll take. The Amelia I used to know was a big fan of them. Never backed away from a single one.
She purses her lips and sets down her clipboard, marching straight for the bull. I follow her, trying not to stare at the sway of her hips or remember how they felt under my hands.
“I don’t have medical insurance. If I break my neck, you’re paying my hospital bills.”
If she rides that bull the way she rode me last night, there ain’t a shot in hell she’ll fall off. Those hips of hers are sinfully skillful.
“Something tells me you’ll do just fine,” I mutter.
She mumbles something under her breath as she climbs onto the bull like she’s a damn professional, and an odd sense of satisfaction hits me square in the chest.
“Ready?” I ask, hand on the control.
She nods, gripping the pommel with both hands.
I start it slow, watching as she finds her rhythm, and it takes me back to last night.
I’ve never been a guy with a lot of fantasies, but tonight when I lay my head on my pillow, I know I’m going to be jerking my cock while picturing her riding this fucking bull.
Naked as the day she was born, her tits swaying with every buck of her hips, that tight pussy of hers rubbing up on the saddle as she chases her orgasm.
My cock twitches against the zipper of my jeans.
If this keeps up, I’m going to come in my pants like a teenager.
She’s a wet dream.
I increase the speed gradually, mesmerized by the sight of her. Then I turn it up a notch too high. The bull bucks hard, and Amelia flies off, a startled yelp escaping her as she tumbles toward the padded floor.
I’m there before she lands, catching her against my chest. For a moment, we’re frozen—her body pressed to mine, her breath warm against my neck, her hands clutching my shoulders.
“You did that on purpose,” she accuses, but there’s no anger in her voice.
“Maybe.” I don’t set her down. Instead, my hold tightens as I stare at her. “We need to talk, Amelia.”
“No, we don’t.” Her voice waivers slightly and, to my surprise, she doesn’t push me away. Instead, she lifts her chin, and those expressive eyes of hers meet mine. I wait for them to heat with anger, but all I see is longing and desire.
My hands slide up her back, one cradling the nape of her neck as I pull her mouth to mine. The moment our lips connect, it’s like a match to gasoline. I drag the tie from her hair, letting it fall to her shoulders.
Her lips part on a gasp, and I take full advantage, deepening the kiss, tasting her with long, hungry strokes of my tongue. And the best part of is that she kisses me back.
Just as hungrily.
Just as desperate.
“Fuck,” I growl against her mouth when she bites my bottom lip, tugging it between her teeth. My hands tighten on her, one sliding down to grab her ass, pressing her against my rigid cock.
Her fingers thread through my hair, tugging just hard enough to make my scalp tingle as she angles my head, taking control of the kiss. I let her have it for a moment, enjoying the way she explores my mouth, her tongue sliding against mine in a dance that’s both familiar and brand new.
I back her up against the wall beside the mechanical bull, pinning her with my hips as I break the kiss to trail my lips down her neck. I find that spot just below her ear that used to make her crazy, and when I suck on it, she moans so loud it echoes in the empty bar.
“Maddox,” she pants, her nails digging into my shoulders through my shirt.
I love it when she calls my name like that.
All breathless and needy.
Like I’m the only man who can give her what she wants.
What she fucking needs.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard, her lips swollen and red from my kisses, her eyes glazed with want. I rest my forehead against hers, still holding her tight against me.
“The pool table,” she whispers, her eyes darting to the green felt across the room.
I carry her across the empty bar, knocking a few chairs out of the way with my hip. Her mouth never leaves mine.
Hot and hungry.
So fucking demanding.
I set her on the edge of the pool table, my fingers immediately moving to the button on her jeans.
“Anyone could walk in,” she pants, helping me tug her jeans down her legs. “Better make it quick, cowboy.”
I push her back until she’s lying across the pool table and drag her panties down her legs, not caring if they tear.
Then I drop to my knees, spreading her thighs wide.
Her pussy glistens, already wet for me. I run my tongue through her folds, savoring her taste as she arches off the table.
Her fingers thread through my hair and she pulls hard, snapping my head back and forcing me to rip my mouth off her delicious cunt.
“We don’t have time for that,” she pants. “Get on your feet, drop your pants, and fuck me before I change my mind.”
I lick my lips and shake my head.
“It doesn’t work like that, baby. I’m the one calling the shots and I haven’t had my fill of your cunt yet. Now, be a good girl and take your tits out. I want you to play with them while I eat you.”
I don’t wait for her to oblige. I push her legs wider and go back to devouring her like the starved man I am, my tongue circling her clit before dipping inside her. Her thighs tremble on either side of my head, and I grip them tighter, holding her open as I suck and nip at her clit.
She cries out, her back arching off the table.
“Fuck, Maddox. That’s good. So fucking good. Don’t stop.”
I smile against her pussy, my tongue slowly licking through her folds. I could do this all day. The taste of her so fucking addicting. My tongue flattens against her clit and she lets out a desperate moan, her body thrashing as her nails claw at the felt covering the table.
“Maddox, please,” she begs. “I need more. I need your cock.”
After one long stroke of my tongue, I rise to my feet, positioning myself between her spread legs.
“I thought I told you to take off your shirt,” I grunt.
She pushes up on her elbows, panting. “You can punish me later so long as you fuck me now.”
Fuck.
I would love nothing more than to bend her over my knee. I bet she’d love it too. Amelia always did like a side of pain with her pleasure, and the idea of turning that sweet, round ass red makes my cock leak.
She sits up and yanks my belt open. The sound of my zipper coming down is almost as arousing as the thought of spanking her.
Then she nudges my jeans down my thighs and pulls my cock out of my boxers, her dainty fingers wrapping around my shaft.
I hiss as she strokes me, her thumb circling my head, spreading the pre-cum all over.
If she keeps at it, I’m going to come all over her hand, and while that’s an upgrade from possibly coming in my pants, it would be tragic if I came before my cock felt her pussy clench around it.
I push her hand away and pull the hem of her shirt over her head, but I don’t free her arms, giving me just enough access to push the cups of her bra down and release her tits.