Bound To Big Bane (D’Amore Family #2)

Chapter 1

Lauren D’Amore

“Oh shit.”

Waking up to the repeated drag of Malcolm’s tongue against my clit wasn't how I planned to start my Thursday, but the second the sensation hit my core, my schedule completely vanished from my mind.

Malcolm was a thick man and commanded every single inch of space he occupied. He carried every single pound with this effortless confidence that made you look twice. I loved me a big boy who knew how to take care of himself.

My man was between my thighs with his hands locked onto my hips like iron clamps, holding me in place.

I inhaled.

“Don’t stop.”

The faint, woodsy trace of his cologne from the night before was an intoxicating smell that always made my chest tight.

"Malcolm," I gasped as he dug his fingers deeper into my skin, shifting his weight. His full beard scratched against my inner thighs, causing me to damn near lose my shit.

He was eating me so damn good, it made my toes curl. The way his lips and tongue moved against me was absolute bliss. I couldn’t even pull away even if I wanted to. A sudden shock went straight down my legs, causing my legs to go completely weak.

For all our flaws outside of this bedroom, Malcolm knew the map of my body like the back of his hand.

"Right there," I breathed out. I gripped his head, pulling him closer. "Right there, Mal... yes."

I lifted my hips, riding his face, matching the wet rhythm of his mouth. Malcolm was addicted to the taste of me, hooked on it like a lifeline. It was a daily fixation for him. He had this quiet obsession where he’d bury that jaw between my legs until he lost his damn mind.

When the orgasm hit, it hit hard. A deep, rolling wave made my whole body go still. Then, I let out this wild scream as my fingers clawed into his scalp for dear life, dragging his face as hard as I could.

I slumped back against the pillows as my chest rose and fell.

When he came up to kiss me, he let out a cocky chuckle against my throat. He propped those thick forearms on both sides of me, completely blocking out the morning sun hitting his bedroom windows.

Looking at him up close, I couldn’t even front, because my man was fine as wine.

His beard was thick and lined along his jaw the way he had always kept it, framing his face with that precision that told you he took care of himself.

And then he smiled that lazy, slow dimpled grin that had absolutely no business existing on a man.

It softened every imposing inch of him. He looked exactly like what he was, a large, confident, devastatingly attractive man. The worst part was that he knew it.

"Baby, you did that," I muttered.

"I know I did," he murmured. That thick, gritty accent dragged heavily over his words as he stared down at my flushed face. "That’s how you start a good morning, Ma."

I swallowed the knot in my throat, trying to catch my breath. “Good morning, handsome.”

"Morning, beautiful," he mumbled. "You look real good right now, laid out like that. Let me get some of this before you start running around."

He leaned down, pressing his lips hard against mine. I kissed him right back, letting myself melt into the familiar taste of him for a quick second.

My boyfriend was a sweetheart, when he wasn't acting crazy. We’d been playing this on-and-off game for a minute now, but the truth was, if we actually knew how to talk to each other without fighting, we wouldn’t even have any real problems. We met years ago when my front tire blew out on the side of the highway.

While everyone else zipped past me, Malcolm had pulled his big truck over, hopped out, and changed it for me without asking for a single dime.

We’ve been locked in ever since that day.

Lately, ever since we’d gotten back together, he’d actually been doing way better with talking out his feelings instead of shutting down.

He was trying harder, being way more attentive, and handling his business. I would be a damn liar if I sat here and said I didn’t love this man.

I really did.

But the second he started pushing his tip up at my entrance, reality slid right back into my head. I cut my eyes over to the bright digital clock sitting on his nightstand.

"Malcolm, stop," I laughed, forcing a soft chuckle. I put my palms against his massive chest, and it felt like trying to push a brick wall. "Seriously, I have to get up. I need to get to work early."

He knew I was very sensitive to touch after a release. Instead of moving, he shifted his weight, trapping me beneath him. A dimpled grin cut through his heavy beard as his dark eyes sparkled with mischief.

"Come on, Ma, just twenty minutes," he pleaded. That thick New York cadence dragged all over the words as he nuzzled into my neck. He pressed those warm kisses right into my skin. "They not even open yet. Let me take care of you right quick."

"No, for real. I have to beat the traffic," I said, but it was weak as hell. My damn body was already trying to betray me.

"Fuck the traffic," he muttered. Malcolm hooked both of my legs up.

“Baby, wait.”

“You don’t want this dick?”

“I ain’t say all that.”

I fucked up when I said that.

He pushed past my entrance, dropping that thick dick in me. The friction of his strokes had me gone, making me so wet that it wouldn't be long before my walls completely melted and coated his shaft.

My head slammed against the pillows as my eyes rolled straight into the back of my head.

Before I could even catch my breath, he grabbed my ankles and hoisted my legs up over his shoulders. He folded me completely in half. The second he did that, I was done. This nigga was strong as hell, and always used it to his advantage. It was such a turn-on for me.

His weight didn't take a thing away. If anything, the mass of his stomach and thighs pressing against me made every single stroke hit impossibly deeper, bottoming out inside me until my whole abdomen was full.

He started handling business, hammering into me as the headboard banged against the drywall.

I was completely weak when it came to this man.

He knew my weakness was aggression, and he was using it to completely dismantle my common sense.

My hands were shaking as I clawed at the air, eventually digging my nails deep into the muscle of his shoulders.

He was putting his back into it, taking exactly what he wanted.

His grunts vibrated right against my ear.

He was fucking me so good, I just let him have it.

Then, I felt him go completely rigid. His breathing hitched, and I knew he was right on the verge of releasing.

I slapped my hand against his shoulder, tapping him hard through the haze of my own climax. "Malcolm—pull out. Now."

He let out a growl from the back of his throat.

Those hips gave one last, deep stroke that made me squeal.

For a terrifying split second, it looked like the man wasn't even going to do it, like he was just going to ignore me and let go of everything.

But at the very last second, he jerked his body back, and spilled across my stomach.

“Fuck, Laurie.”

We both laid there for a hot second as the sound of our breathing filling the quiet bedroom. I blinked, trying to clear the fog from my brain, and cut my eyes back over to that digital clock.

My heart damn near stopped.

I was thirty minutes behind.

"Oh, shit," I cussed under my breath as I threw his arm off my body. "Malcolm, look at the time! I’m late."

Seeing how upset I was, he slid his body up behind me and pulled me back into him. He started raining soft kisses all over my cheek, my jaw, and the side of my face, trying to soothe the attitude right out of me.

"Don't trip, Doc," he murmured against my ear. "You'll get there on time. You always do. Stop stressing."

"Don’t patronize me," I snapped. I didn't pull away from his hold as I reached for a tissue to wipe my stomach.

I didn't work my absolute ass off through brutal residencies and competitive fellowships just to be strolling into a private practice, late like the rest of these doctors.

I prided myself on my reputation. I was the only Black doctor at my job; my excellence wasn't optional, it was the damn standard. I couldn’t be slipping up and tarnishing my name behind some good dick, no matter how addictive it was.

“Get up before I get mad,” I murmured.

"I'm moving, Ma," he said, giving my hip an affectionate squeeze.

He stood up and walked straight into the bathroom.

"Stay under the covers," he called out, his deep voice echoing over the sudden hiss of running water. "I'm starting the shower for you so it's hot when you get in."

Listening to the steam fill the room, I pulled the duvet up to my chin, trying to not overthink the time.

Baltimore had been my home for a few years now.

Ever since I decided to relocate, this city had been good to me.

It paid my bills, secured my high-rise condo, and kept my bank account heavy.

I had the blueprint of what a successful life was supposed to look like: the MD after my name, a gorgeous place of my own, and an attentive man who treated me like a Queen. I checked every single box.

When I finally slid out of bed and into the bathroom, the shower was perfect.

Twenty minutes later, I stood in front of the vanity mirror, in my element.

I quickly shook out my silk press, running a brush through the strands until they fell past my shoulders.

I did a quick skin-care routine, applied a swipe of glossy nude lip color, and put on a cream-colored pantsuit that hugged my curves in all the right places.

I walked back into the bedroom and slid my feet into a pair of four-inch pumps. The sharp click-clock of the heels against the hardwood floor was my final transition into doctor mode.

As I zipped up my leather overnight bag and work tote, the warm aroma of hazelnut coffee drifted into the room. I walked out into the kitchen to find Malcolm standing by the counter. He was in his gray sweats, carefully pouring the fresh brew into my favorite stainless-steel travel mug.

He looked up as I entered. His eyes swept over me from head to toe with admiration.

"Look at you," he murmured, his eyes doing a slow lap down my body. "Flying out of here lookin’ like a bag of money. They ain't ready for you today, Doc."

"Thank you," I said, a real smile breaking through my morning attitude as I stepped up to him.

Without me even having to open my mouth and ask, he reached right down and scooped up both of my bags. He threw open the front door, guiding me out into the cool morning air toward my black Benz. He popped the trunk, and tucked the bags inside. Then, he pressed the key fob into my palm.

"I went out and filled up your tank this morning while you were still sleeping," he said. "Didn't want you having to stop at some raggedy gas station or messing up that clean suit."

My damn heart flipped in my chest.

"Malcolm, you are too good to me," I breathed, completely forgetting about the thirty-minute delay.

I wrapped my arms all the way around his neck, pulling him down to my level. I leaned up on my toes and pressed a deep, lingering kiss on his lips. He locked his arms around my waist, holding me tight, making me feel like the only woman that mattered in the whole state of Maryland.

When I finally pulled away, I slid into the leather driver's seat, and started the engine before pulling off. I had a schedule to keep, a career to run, and a man to get back to.