Chapter 29
MADDOX
I’m on her the second we step inside the penthouse. I swallow her gasp as I back her up against the wall and kiss those perfect fucking pink lips.
My tongue slips inside her mouth, and I push her legs apart with my knee, stepping between them, fitting our bodies together because I’m too desperate for her to not have every inch of me pressed against every inch of her.
Her moan makes my lips tingle before it shakes its way down my body, bringing forward a sound of my own, one far more wild, carnal.
I’m a mess of greedy, desperate touches, but so is she. My hands are in her hair, palming her throat as the pulse batters beneath it, and then on that fucking ass—gripping and squeezing and pulling until another cry fills my mouth.
Braxton claws at my biceps and tugs at my hair, giving just as much as I’m taking. Her fingers are like personal shock devices. Every touch feels like electricity zapping beneath my skin, and I fall into a deeper haze with each sting.
We’ve finally smashing down the wall that has kept us from tearing each other’s clothes off with our teeth and letting go, accepting that this was inevitable from the start.
Now we’re desperate. Out of control. Making up for so much lost time.
“You need to be sure, baby. Fucking positive.” I drag my lips from her lips to her jaw and down to her pulse, giving it a hard suck. “Because once won’t be enough for me. This isn’t a one and done.”
Her whole body shudders. “Yes.”
I shake my head, my beard scraping her skin, turning it red. My chest grows tight at the idea of her wearing my beard burn all over her body.
“Yes what? Need to hear you say it.”
“I’m positive. Not a one and done. Not us,” she whispers.
I nip at her throat, over the blossoming purple mark that beats in time with her heartbeat, and dig my fingers into her thighs before lifting and wrapping them around my hips.
She releases a surprised noise, and her thighs grip me tight. Those sparkling blue eyes fill with uncertainty as I lead us further into the dark penthouse, her in my arms where she fucking belongs.
“What’s that look for?” I ask softly, brushing my nose along hers.
“You don’t have to carry me. I can walk.”
“In every single one of my dreams, this is how I’m bringing you into my bedroom for the first time. Let me make it a reality.”
She rolls her swollen lips before wetting them with her tongue. My underwear grows sticky as I leak precum like a loose tap.
“In your dreams, I’m probably not this heavy.” She says it so timidly I barely catch it. But I do. And my frown is instant.
“Did you forget who I am in the past five minutes? I could bench-press you in my sleep. You’re fucking perfect.”
To my disappointment, my words haven’t done shit. My lungs pinch at the shame keeping her lips from tipping into my favourite smile. Those men in her past have done so much damage to how she sees herself in intimate situations, and I battle off a blistering rage.
I look over her shoulder just in time to turn into my bedroom, and a beat later, I’m setting her on the edge of my bed and turning the bedside lamp on. The soft light filters through the room, illuminating Braxton and her stiff body. I open the nightstand drawer and pull out a picture frame.
Two steps and I’m in front of her, dropping to my haunches and letting the frame hang between my legs. I look at her and hope that she can see just how happy I am to have her here, in my bed. In my goddamn life.
She meets my gaze head-on, and a flare of pride fills me.
“Do you remember the photo I kept of you in my nightstand? The one of you riding that massive black horse named Kit-Kat?”
Her cheeks flush. “I do.”
I swallow a sudden ball of nerves before setting the picture frame on her thighs, face up. “The first time I showed you this, it was because you asked me if I thought you were pretty, and I remember being so stupefied at the question because I thought it was obvious.”
“You remember that?”
Her bottom lip wobbles as she traces the edge of the frame with a trembling finger. I set my hands on her knees and slip my thumb back and forth over her jeans.
“I remember everything,” I admit, pressing my lips to her knee before pulling back.
“You have never been just pretty to me. Not when I was a boy, not when I was a zit-faced teenager, and definitely not now that I’m a man.
All I want is for you to feel confident with me.
No matter when or where, I want you to know that I believe everything about you was custom-made just for me and that I love every single inch of your beautiful body. ”
There’s a crack in my voice when I finish and carefully pick the frame back up and set it to the side.
“I have loved you at a hundred pounds, and I would love you at a thousand. Let me show you how much I love you right now.”
Surprise and a bit of disbelief flash across her face before being replaced with a look that shakes the ground beneath me.
Suddenly, she’s reaching for me and taking my face in her hands. Pressing my bottom lip with her thumb, she leans in and whispers, “I have never stopped loving you. Not once. I don’t think I know how.”
The world shifts. All of my broken pieces heal, and my jagged edges smooth out. Every hollow part of me fills with something warm and reassuring. A sense of home hits me like a brick to the balls. A feeling of rightness.
I push to my feet, and with a firm grip around her thighs, I lift Braxton and toss her up the bed. Her giggle floats around the room, sinking into the walls and making the big, cold penthouse feel warm and homey.
“I’m going to devour you, baby girl.” I reach behind my head and pull my shirt off, tossing it somewhere in the room before lowering my hands to the band around my hips.
“Is that a threat or a promise?” she taunts, pushing up on her elbows to watch.
But then suddenly, her entire demeanour changes to one of pure shock. I would have missed what caused her to look so devastatingly surprised had her eyes not been locked on the tattoo on my chest, the one she’s never seen before, and I feel my nerves skyrocket.
Her lips part, throat bobbing heavily. “Is that . . .?”
I brush my thumb over the ink-drawn heart and the B + M that fill the centre. It sits directly between my pecs, over the organ that beats only for her.
“Yeah. The heart we engraved in the trunk of the tree beneath our tree house when we were fourteen.”
“When did you get that tattooed?” she whispers.
I swallow. “My eighteenth birthday.”
“Maddox . . .” Vulnerability tugs at her features. I ache to make it go away.
“I’ve never once regretted it. Not after you left, and definitely not now that you’re back. Whether we found each other again or not, you were always going to be with me. Right here.” I stroke the tattoo a final time before dropping my hand.
“Maddox.” It’s a soft, beautiful sound.
“Yeah, baby?”
“It’s beautiful. I love it. And you. God, do I ever love you,” she sighs.
“I love you, Curly Fry. Now and for the rest of my goddamn life.”
Heat flares in her eyes as she pulls her bottom lip into her mouth and sits, toying with the hem of her jersey. My muscles freeze when she slowly pulls it up her torso, revealing inch after inch of freckled, peach-toned skin. My gulp is audible when the heavy fabric hits the floor.
“Fuck. Me,” I groan.
Thin black lace cups her heavy breasts. Splattered with freckles, they rise and fall rapidly with her quick breaths.
Erect, pale pink nipples poke at the lace, begging to be freed, and they get their wish when she slips a hand around her back and tugs on the hooks.
The straps fall from her shoulders, taking the bra with them, and I hiss a breath when it hits the bed.
“Pants next.” The command scrapes my throat on the way up.
“You first.”
I manage a rough laugh. “Deal.”
Hooking my fingers beneath two waistbands, I shove both my pants and underwear off in one go, stepping out of them a second later.
“Holy shit,” she breathes, eyes focused on my cock.
I grab it at the base and squeeze, fighting my eyes from rolling back. I’m so fucking hard that my balls are tugged up tight, desperate for release. One slow stroke from base to slick tip is all I gift myself.
“Pants, Braxton.”
Blinking, she quickly pops the button and shimmies them down her legs. I reach out and pull them the rest of the way off, one foot at a time, before discarding them on the floor.
When she fingers the band of her panties, I give my head a rough shake.
“Leave those on.”
Her eyes snap up, finding mine. “Okay.”
I sink my knees into the mattress and move toward her, stopping at the small opening between her legs.
My palm meets her shin as I slide it up her leg, up to her knee, cupping it softly.
Her skin is so warm and smooth, so perfect.
I want to feel it all. I want to explore every single beauty mark and freckle with my tongue.
But that’s all for another time. Once we’ve burned off some energy and I’m not questioning whether or not I’m going to turn out to be a four-pump chump.
With her knee in my hand, I push it toward her, opening her up for me. I repeat the move with the other leg and groan at the image of her spread out for me, those black panties wet in the centre, just like I knew they would be.
“Do you remember what I said in the truck?” I ask, reaching between her legs and gripping the soft lace in a fist. Glancing up, I meet her stare.
“Yes,” she whispers, legs clenching with anticipation.
“Tell me.”
Colour burns her cheeks. “You’re bossy in bed.”
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling, then drop my thumb to that wet patch in her panties, brushing the small little bump beneath them.
She jolts, thrusting her hips against my hand. Her face twists in the most delicious way, so I do it again, this time moving it in a slow circle.
“Dox,” she whimpers.
“Tell me what I said in the truck,” I repeat, taking my thumb away from her clit.
“You said you wanted to see how my panties looked cutting my pussy in half.” She pushes out the words with the same desperation I feel deep in my chest. Her hips twirl, seeking out my touch, but I ignore her silent plea.
I pull the wet lace up toward her instead and watch as they dig between her pussy lips, creating such a pretty fucking picture. Dipping my head, I kiss the line of her panties, right at the centre, and then drag my tongue up each puffy lip.
Her taste has my cock leaking into the sheets as I press the flat of my tongue right over where her entrance hides and then release my grip on her panties. I dig my teeth under the fabric tucked tight in her pussy and pull it out, sucking at the wet patch.
“Happy?” she coos, tightening her eyes to glare at me as if she’s not burning up with pleasure.
In one quick move, I have her panties torn in half and a red line on her hip where they used to sit.
“Fucking ecstatic,” I murmur before pressing my lips to her bare sex and slipping my tongue around her weeping entrance, teasing her inner walls with soft strokes. “What about you? Are you happy?” I pull her clit into my mouth and suck.
“So, so happy,” she sighs, fingers scraping down my scalp and curling in my hair.
I release her clit and flick it with my tongue. “You taste fucking perfect. Just like I knew you would.”
“Mm, and what exactly do I taste like?”
I slide a finger inside her pussy and grit my jaw at the lack of protest. She’s so wet it slides right in. I add a second finger and curl them until I feel that soft spot that makes her back curl and eyes fall shut.
“Mine, Braxton. You taste like mine.”