Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
“Only a few find the way, some don’t recognize it when they do—some…don’t ever want to.”
—Cheshire Cat, Alice in Wonderland
Iinvited in the devil—and he doesn’t play fair.
Maddox kneels on the floor at the foot of the bed.
He grasps my thighs, his fingers biting into my bare flesh to spread me open as wide as my legs will go.
Wide enough to fit the broad breadth of his shoulders comfortably in the space he creates.
No one has ever seen me but him. No one has ever touched me but him.
Embarrassment may be my first instinct, but desire is a heady drug that has me half-heartedly fighting against his firm but gentle grip.
He gives my inner thigh a playful slap. “Behave, Malice.”
Groaning, I swear my entire face catches fire as Maddox slowly walks his fingers up my thighs.
Each shallow breath I take hurts deep inside my chest, and every beat of my heart is a punch against my sternum, anticipating a violent storm raging inside me.
And when he traces a single finger along the seam of my pussy, I bite my bottom lip and squeeze my eyes shut hard enough for white stars to explode behind my lids.
“Open your eyes,” Maddox demands. “I want you looking at me. I want you to see who’s making you feel good.”
My eyelids lift at his command, and I release a trembling exhale as I watch him, feel the slow glide of his finger up to my clit. Relish the hushed groan that whispers from him when he teases me, pressing the tip of that digit inside me—just the tip—then pulls it back out.
“Christ, Malice, of all the things I’ve seen in my life, this is the prettiest of them all.”
The awe in his voice pulls a stray tear from me.
It cuts a path down the side of my face to drop into my hair.
Again, he slides his finger across my drenched pussy, dipping in past the first knuckle.
Drawing out. Driving in deeper the next time, slowly finger-fucking me until my hips lift to meet each tormenting thrust of his hand.
Until I’m groping for the pillow at the head of the bed, with my other hand twined in the pink comforter because I need stability.
Because with a single finger, Maddox has me wrapped up in his beautiful chaos.
I’m spinning, dizzy, and disoriented—and I love every second despite myself.
Despite a part of me still clinging to the need to protect my heart.
And yet that wall I’d built between us…? It’s rubble at my feet.
My world has been a bleak, monochrome landscape without Maddox. Stripped of the vibrant colors he splashed across my life with his unique brand of chaos. I yearned for his unpredictable nature, with every moment spent with him a thrilling roller coaster.
When he leans over me, his face inches from mine, I’m captivated by his stunningly chiseled features and those striking amber eyes.
His voice is gruff and husky when he asks, “Which is it, Alice, all or nothing?”
I pop up on my elbows with every inch of my body aching for this beautiful man. “All, Maddox. It’s all.”
The tension drains from him, and his smirk is sexy as hell. “Thank fuck. Now relax. I need to kiss you properly.”
“You always were demanding,” I grumble jokingly.
“Sweetheart, if you knew half the things I want to demand of you, you’d run out of here horrified.”
“Bet?”
“Bet.”
“We’ll see,” I murmur as I lie back on the mattress.
I melt into the emotions burning through me when Maddox settles back between my legs.
I don’t resist when he moves in close, puts his face right up against my pussy—close enough for his warm breath to tickle me.
He lifts my legs, draping them over his shoulders.
I glance down once, one time, to see the top of his messy russet hair in the place I only imagined it’d be during long and lonely nights when I’d touch myself and pretend it was him.
Now, he’s here, with his hands on my thighs and his tongue…
Oh, God, his tongue.
Maddox licks me from crack to clit, and I swear my soul leaves my body.
A deliciously painful pressure builds, coiling and tightening with each lash of his tongue.
With each suck on my clit and plunge of his fingers deep—so deep—inside me.
He hooks those fingers, rubbing over that sensitive bundle of nerves that has me slapping my hands over my mouth to keep in my moans.
He holds me captive, suspended in this bliss, where the promise of ecstasy lies just out of reach. All I have to do is grab it…
My muscles pull taut, my body is a bowstring, ready to snap at the slightest pluck of Maddox’s fingers.
That incredible tension builds higher, with a wonderful wave of warmth and wet rushing to meet each furious thrust of his finger.
The tip of his tongue teases my clit, the torturous flick pushing me over the edge.
“Oh, God,” I breathe.
My hips shoot off the bed. I grind against his lips, shattering into a million pieces, when he adds a second finger inside me.
He gives me no mercy, and it takes everything I have to stay quiet.
To hold back the cries trapped in my throat lest my mother and Harrison hear me.
In desperation, I tug his hair. Damn near rip it out at the roots.
He groans in ecstasy, reminding me he likes it when it hurts.
But it’s when his hand leaves my leg and when I hear the faint sound of his zipper that I can’t stop the whimper that escapes past my lips.
Oh, God…
“Maddox,” I rasp.
“Shhh, Malice, I got you, sweetheart. You’re okay.”
Magic words.
I am okay.
He has me.
As I plummet off the cliff, Maddox is there to catch me, keeping me safe as I tumble into the abyss.
Only once my feet touch solid ground does he climb up my body.
He’s already shed his shoes and pants, and as he peels off his shirt, I marvel at the artwork decorating his skin—an intricate tapestry of tattoos.
Evil skulls, intertwined snakes, and two chess pieces—a white knight and a black king.
He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, a lazy smile on his lips. “That’s you and me,” he says, pointing to the chess pieces.
Because we’d play the game in the maze when we were kids.
Everything about him always goes back to us.
He and I, and the memories we made together.
I press my hand to the tattoo. “We, us two,” I whisper, because that’s how we’d refer to each other.
“We, us two,” he repeats.
And then he kisses me, and I taste myself on his tongue.
I wrap my arms around him to hug him close, close enough for his frantic heartbeat to slam against my chest. He fits himself between my legs, his body big and warm and unyielding.
The tip of his pierced cock presses against me, and I hold my breath, waiting for the invasion, for the pain, because it’s been three years.
It’s been three years since the one time I had sex.
But the pain doesn’t come.
Instead, it’s a slow slide that stretches me so good.
The metal barbell glides against my drenched walls, an added pleasure that has me scoring my nails across Maddox’s back.
His kiss is divine, and when I move lower to grab his ass, he punches his hips, slamming into me.
My gasp fills his mouth, and I swallow his growl as he rocks into me again and again and again…
Until every muscle strains all over again. Until a new, delicious ache builds deep inside me. Each drive of his hips, each slam of his cock, lifts me higher. So high, I’m flying. I want to stay here forever, suspended in this warmth, in the peaceful space where nothing matters but Maddox and me.
In this absolute ecstasy.
But, like all good things, it ends.
The crash comes, and one more drive of Maddox’s hips shoves me back over the cliff. And this time, when I drop, he’s there with me. We’re falling into the darkness together…
Landing in a tangle of two bodies wrapped up in a pink blanket.
With a giggle, I sit up and untie us from the comforter.
But I’m not a giggler. Yet here I am, hand clamped over my mouth, body trembling, laughing hard enough to make my eyes tear.
Is this sex aftershock?
Has to be.
Poor Maddox, lying beside me, looks all sorts of confused. This makes me giggle harder. “Sorry,” I mumble behind my hand.
“Should I be insulted?”
“No! Oh, God, no.” I gesture down my sweaty body. “Aftershock.”
“Ah, okay. Nice to know I bring the goods.”
I yank on my shirt because, unlike Maddox, naked as you please, I’m not nearly as comfortable with nudity. “That was intense.”
“Yeah, it was.”
But must he look so fucking smug?
“That was more than a kiss,” I point out.
He closes his eyes and throws an arm over his face, looking hella relaxed. “Depends on your definition of a kiss.”
“Oh, my God, you’re too much.” I hop off the bed.
He peeks out from behind his arm. “Leaving me already?”
“Actually, I live here. You’re the one who’d have to leave.” I slap my hands on the mattress and give him a quick kiss. “I have to pee.”
“Hurry back.”
Strange how my heart gives a lovely little flutter. “I will.”
But as soon as I step into the bathroom and glimpse my reflection, I cringe.
Good Lord, I’m a complete wreck. I’m sweaty, and my hair is tangled into a chaotic sex knot at the back of my head, strands sticking out in every direction.
My eyes, heavy and hooded, are bloodshot, while my lips are swollen and red, a testament to Maddox’s kisses. A quick shower is definitely needed.
As the hot water cascades over me, I smile when Maddox steps into the stall with me.
“You said you’d hurry back.”
I throw my head back, wetting my hair. “And then I saw myself in the mirror.”
He lifts a brow. “You looked adorable.”
I snort out a laugh. “I looked like a wreck.”
Maddox takes over, washing my hair for me, and being pampered is absolutely divine.
His soapy hands explore every nook and cranny of my body, washing away any lingering shame over being naked in front of him.
Instead, I focus on his touch. On the stroke of his palms over my fevered flesh and the dance of his taut muscles flexing under my touch.
His lips crash down on mine, the water raining over us, and when I fall to my knees, he throws his arms out to brace himself.
I take him in my mouth and explore the rigid length of him.
Savor his delectable taste. Flick the balls of the barbell.
Suck the tip of his cock and run the flat of my tongue up his shaft.
Each kiss and choked moan are an encouragement to tease him, to play, and when he can’t take it one more second, when he can’t hold back, he thrusts into my mouth.
I grab his ass and hold tight as he fucks my face, every frantic thrust pushing deeper down my throat.
I gag, tears springing to my eyes, but Maddox is relentless. I hollow my tongue and let him ride my mouth, breathing through my nose as the hot water falls against my back. When he comes, I suck hard, swallowing him.
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters. Then he closes his eyes and dips his head under the stream. When he emerges, he says, “You trying to kill me, Malice?”
I come off my knees and tilt my face to the water, filling my mouth. I rise, spitting it out. “Absolutely,” I retort. “Death by blowjob. What a way to go.”
“Fucking wiseass.”
I shrug. “You taught me well.”
“My bad,” he grumbles as I wash my face.
After all the soap is off, I say, “As if you’d have me any other way.”
Maddox wraps his arms around me. “Sweetheart, I’ll take you any way I can get you, as long as you’re mine.”
I melt against him, lost in his embrace.
Loving how he holds nothing back. He’s an open book with me, his pages written in a language only I can read.
His raw honesty is one thread that binds us, and I remember when I was just as open.
When my emotions were as clear and flowed as freely.
But life spun me around. Left me disoriented.
I’m still struggling to make sense of things, but one thing has become clearer with each day that I’ve been home—Maddox was right.
I am his.
I’ve always been his.
And yet I hear myself say, “You have me, Maddox.”
And I know that’s real.
It’s a solid truth, as tangible as the wall that once stood between us.
We step out of the shower, with Maddox drying me. Then he helps me back into my T-shirt. He’s still naked when we walk back to the bedroom, and my God, his confidence is well earned. He is incredible, living art from his head to his toes. Finer than any masterpiece I’ve ever seen.
After he tucks me back in bed, I watch with disappointment as he gets dressed. “I’m glad you came,” I confess in a whisper. “I wish you could stay.”
“I wish I could, too.” He places his top hat on his head. “Your mother would pop a vein if she found me here in the morning.”
“No kidding.” Katherine Wentworth never liked Maddox. In fact, she outright hates him. She once told me that he’s ‘beneath us’ because he’s an orphan. What a damn snob. Imagine if she knew he murdered people. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
He strolls over to the bed, places his hands on the edge, and leans low. His beautiful face hovers over mine. “Of course.”
I exhale on a soft sigh. “Get home safe.”
He brushes his lips over mine, a tantalizing tease. “Have pleasant dreams, Malice.” His voice is a caress.
It takes an iron will to watch him pick up his discarded mask and leave when all I want to do is throw back the blanket and beg him to stay.
But everything is deceptively insulated under the cover of night.
Wish I could bottle this moment and live in it forever.
Keep the dawn away. But I can’t, and long after he’s gone, I’m still awake.
Lonely. Our friendship was always effortless and fun.
The hard part was staying away, and as the minutes roll into hours and I remain awake, I torture myself thinking about all the reasons I kept my distance from him.
Funny how they seem silly now because all the pain I expected to experience around him…
it never comes. In fact, all I feel is joy.
Joy and a wonderful sense of hope that I haven’t felt since…
…since before we found out my dad was sick.
Perhaps this is what they mean when they say time heals all wounds. It’s not that the wound disappears, but you learn to live with it. To create a new life around it and find a repaired perception of normalcy, and with it comes a renewed optimism for the future.