Chapter 1 #2
But he puts a swift end to my fun by grabbing my wrist. “Stop,” he groans. “I can’t. It’s too much right now.” His hands tremble when he reaches for me. “I’ve waited all my life for this. For you.”
The more he kisses me, the more my mind tangles in knots and my body ignites.
I inhale sharply as he gently cups my breasts, his calloused palms brushing against my skin.
He flicks and pinches my nipples, turning them to painful peaks.
Licks them. Sucks them. His hands are all over me, skating over my fevered flesh.
His fingers move lower, teasing their way down my abdomen.
When he kneels, his lips tickle me as he teases me with gentle kisses and playful nips.
I try to pull him back to his feet. Try to get him to stop because now—now—I’m embarrassed.
Good Lord, his face is right there.
Close enough for me to feel his exhale against my pussy.
“Let me love you, Malice.”
In all my life, I’ve never felt more cherished. Here. In our private place, we are blissfully isolated from everything and everyone.
Here, we’re safe to be ourselves, and I’m…free.
At my nod, he instructs me to open my legs, and I do, inching them apart, making room for him to slide between them. The first touch of his tongue pulls a broken cry from me. His mouth is warm, wet, and wonderful as he feasts on me. My legs go so weak, I drop to my knees, laughing at his frown.
“I was just getting started.”
“What did you tell me before?” Frowning, I tap my temple. “Oh, that’s right, it was too much. Well, sweetheart, the same goes for me.” I kiss him, long and passionately, tasting myself on his tongue, before whispering against his lips, “You make me feel too good.”
“Malice,” he drawls. “I haven’t begun to make you feel good.”
He lays me on the chessboard, on the small mound of our clothes.
Then he climbs atop me, his weight comforting, the strength of his body overwhelming.
He kisses me, rough and deep. Presses his hips into me, rubbing the hard length of himself between my slick pussy lips.
Groaning, I thrust up to meet the grind, needing more.
I yearn for him to alleviate the excruciating pressure pulsing through my legs.
When he nips my bottom lip, I reach around to smack his ass. “Ow, that hurt.”
“Good,” he retorts with an evil grin. “Pain reminds you that you’re alive.” Weird reasoning, but okay. He drags his tongue along my lip to soothe the sting. “You taste like Heaven.”
I lean up to kiss the side of his neck. “You taste like sin.”
“Damn right.” The low rumble of his voice slides over me like warm water. “I want to make you so fucking dirty, Alice. I want you filthy, like me.”
“Do it,” I taunt. “I dare you.”
Who the hell am I right now?
I am not the timid Alice who has consistently chosen to remain in the background.
I’m a stranger tonight, and when Maddox tsks me, every nerve in my body buzzes with need.
“Don’t you know it’s foolish to tempt the devil?
” He drags his cheek over mine. Teases the upper shell with the tip of his tongue before whispering, “That’s how you lose your soul. ”
What’s the use of having a soul if keeping it means never experiencing this again?
As an artist, I paint with a palette of vivid hues, creating kaleidoscopes of vibrant color. I realize now that every stroke of my brush across the canvas was this moment because Maddox’s kiss and touch are exactly what I imagined being drenched in those brilliant colors.
When I lay my palm against Maddox’s cheek, all that pent-up energy pulsing within him seems to flow into me. “My soul has always belonged to you,” I confess in a nervous, breathless hush to the boy I’ve loved since I was seven.
“You’re the most precious gift I’ve ever been given.” He closes his eyes—just for a moment—and when he reopens them, he says with a sigh, “God, I’m going to ruin you.”
Timid Alice would run away, terrified.
Courageous Alice wraps her legs around Maddox’s trim waist to lock him in. To draw him closer. “I’m not a gift, Maddox, and I’m tougher than you think.”
“Always so fucking feisty.” He notches his pierced head at my entrance but doesn’t push his way inside. Not yet. “Shall we test your conviction?”
With a resolute nod, I squeeze my eyes shut because I’m a virgin, and he’s enormous, and I brace for the pain.
“Open your eyes, Malice,” Maddox coaxes me, and when I do, all I see is him. My Maddox, studying me. “It’s okay. You’re with me.”
I’m with him.
Those three simple words are everything.
He buries his face in my neck and asks, “Trust me, yes?”
“Always.”
“Good girl,” he praises. “I’m going to light you up.”
Then he’s thrusting forward, inching his way inside and stretching me and filling me.
It hurts, and I grip his shoulders against the pain, but my eyes stay open.
I keep my eyes wide open, watching Maddox’s exquisitely chiseled face as he relentlessly and gently presses himself deeper.
The drag of his barbell doesn’t hurt; in fact, it tickles, which is…
strange. The sensation of it gliding against my inner walls is strange and wonderful.
When I cry out, he kisses me, swallowing my whimper.
He answers with a growl, setting himself fully inside me.
The stretch burns, but not nearly as much as I anticipated.
Nothing that would make me ask him to stop.
“You’re mine, Alice. You always were,” he rasps against my mouth. “And you always will be.”
He pulls his hips back until the tip of him remains inside. I stiffen, expecting a surge of pain, and there is, but underneath it… Underneath the sting is a delicious build edged with pleasure. Squeezing my legs tighter around his waist, I lift my hips to meet every ruthless snap of his pelvis.
“More,” I beg him. “I need…more.”
More of him, deeper and harder.
“That’s my girl.” He rocks his hips, withdrawing, then slamming back inside me. Filling me—again and again and again…
…until all the pain melts away.
Excitement surges through me, encircling every nerve and tightening every muscle. It drives me right to the edge of an abyss, and when I leap, I fall with Maddox, tumbling with him down into the sweet darkness.
“Breathe…” he tells me, his voice gently coaxing me to pull air into my lungs.
Only after Maddox and I claw our way back to reality do I see them—the zillion missed calls and texts from my mother.
Dread is a bucket of ice water poured over me as I grab my cell.
Each word works to break the hazy spell Maddox had cast over me.
I try to deny the truth because, oh, God, I’m not ready.
I’m not ready to live in a world where my father is dead.