Chapter 19 #2
For years, I’ve been the voice of reason, begging Shadow not to do anything that would land him in jail. I never wanted Shadow to be the man responsible for Russell’s demise, fearing how that would affect Dylan.
But tonight, I say nothing.
My silence is permission, and we all know it.
Shadow stands, jaw set. “I’ll call you when it’s done.”
He leaves without another word, the door closing behind him with finality. The apartment suddenly feels quiet until Maddox breaks the silence.
“I’m not letting Dylan or you out of my sight until Shadow puts Russell in his place,” he says, his voice leaving no room for argument. “Or in the ground.” He reaches for my hand. “I’m camping out on your couch. We’ll order in. Whatever Dylan likes.”
I don’t fight him. The thought of having him here, standing guard over us, sends relief washing through me.
I lean forward and kiss him passionately.
Maddox seems surprised by my forwardness, but only for a second.
His hands cup my face as he responds with equal intensity, his lips warm and firm against mine.
His stubble scratches lightly against my skin as he changes the angle, deepening the kiss. His hands slide from my face to my hair, fingers threading through the strands as he pulls me closer. I melt against him, my hands his chest. I can feel his heartbeat quickening beneath my palm.
When I pull back, I whisper, “Okay.”
His eyes search mine, surprised by my sudden surrender but pleased. His thumb traces my cheekbone. “Just like that? No argument?”
“Just like that,” I confirm. “I’m tired, Maddox. Tired of fighting this battle alone when you’re right here offering to help.”
He pulls me against him, and I rest my head on his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heartbeat.
My sheets feel like sandpaper against my skin. I can’t sleep knowing Maddox is just thirty feet away, lying on my couch.
“Fuck it,” I whisper, throwing back the covers.
My bare feet make no sound on the hardwood as I pad from my bedroom to the living room.
The moment I catch sight of Maddox, something inside me stirs.
He’s stretched out on the couch, one tattooed arm thrown over his eyes, the other dangling toward the floor.
No shirt. Just those worn jeans riding low on his hips, the top button undone.
His long legs hang awkwardly over the armrest.
He senses me before I say anything and sits up in one fluid motion, his abs rippling with the movement.
“Everything okay?” he asks, voice rough with sleep.
I shake my head slowly. “No.”
Three steps and I’m standing before him. I take his hands in mine, feeling the calluses against my palms, the strength in his fingers. I want those hands all over me.
“I can’t sleep,” I whisper, pulling my lower lip between my teeth as I lift my gaze to his. “And I think it’s because I want you in my bed.”
That’s a lie. I want more than to share a bed with him. I want him inside me.
Maddox stands abruptly, and the next thing I know, his mouth is on mine, hungry and demanding. I thread my fingers through his hair, pulling him closer as he rises to his feet. We stumble backward, a tangle of lips and tongues and desperate hands, toward my bedroom.
When we cross the threshold, I reach behind me to close the door with a soft click.
“We have to be quiet, though,” I whisper against his mouth. “I don’t want to wake Dylan and scar him by catching his mother sucking your cock. Imagine the therapy bills.”
Maddox’s eyes darken, and I feel him grow harder against my stomach.
“You gonna let me fuck that sweet mouth of yours?” he growls, backing me against the wall.
I don’t respond, I just drop to my knees. My fingers pull at his zipper and I slide his jeans down his hips. He’s already rock hard, and I take him in my hand, stroking slowly before leaning forward to taste him.
His fingers tangle in my hair as I take him deep, his breath coming in short, controlled gasps above me as I take his cock all the way down my throat. I look up, my eyes watering as I meet his eyes, and the raw hunger I see there makes my pussy throb.
“Fuck, Amelia,” he hisses, hips moving in rhythm with my mouth.
Just as his breathing quickens, he pulls back, lifting me to my feet.
“Not yet,” he says, tugging my nightshirt over my head. “I want to taste you first.”
He strips me bare in seconds, lifting me onto the bed. His mouth trails hot kisses down my neck, my breasts, my stomach, before he settles between my thighs. The first stroke of his tongue makes me bite my fist to keep from crying out.
His strong hands grip my hips, holding me in place as he devours me, bringing me to the edge and back until I’m trembling.
“Please,” I beg, pulling at his shoulders. “I need to feel your cock inside me.”
Maddox rises, shedding his jeans completely before covering my body with his. He captures my mouth as he pushes into me, swallowing my gasp.
“Hold the headboard,” he commands, and I obey, gripping the wood as he begins to move.
Each thrust is harder than the last. The bed frame threatens to give us away with every motion. His hands cover mine on the headboard, his body driving into mine relentlessly as pleasure builds inside me.
“I’m gonna come,” I breathe against his lips.
“Not yet,” he orders, pulling out again. Before I can protest, he’s straddling my waist, his cock slick and hard in his hand as he strokes himself. “I want to mark you.”
The sight of him towering over me, muscles tense and glistening with sweat as he pleasures himself, is the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen.
“Yes,” I encourage, running my hands up his thighs. “Come all over me.”
His eyes never leave mine as his hand moves faster. “Play with your tits,” he demands.
I cup my breasts, pinching my nipples between my fingers. His breathing becomes ragged, jaw clenched tight.
“Fuck, Amelia,” he groans, and then he’s coming. Hot spurts of cum land across my stomach and on my tits. I slide my hand between my legs, desperate for release.
“That’s my job,” he says, replacing my fingers with his own. He works my clit expertly while leaning down to kiss me, and within seconds I’m coming apart, my body shuddering beneath him.
For a long moment, we just breathe together, his forehead resting against mine.
Then he kisses me softly before disappearing into the bathroom.
He returns with a warm washcloth and tenderly washes his release from my skin.
It’s a sharp contrast to the rough way he fucked me, and something in my chest tightens.
“Stay,” I murmur as he finishes. “Sleep here with me.”
He tosses the cloth aside and slides under the covers, pulling me against his chest. His heartbeat is strong and steady beneath my ear.
Kissing the top of my head, he whispers, “I’ll sneak out before the sun comes up.”