20. Chapter 20
Heath had never seen anything sexier in his life. Maddie—his Maddie—leaning into him, flushed and breathless, her chin lifted in challenge, eyes daring him to obey her orders.
She wanted to be in control?
Good.
He was going to let her burn with it.
With a growl, he hauled her against him, her yelp turning into a laugh as he slung her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing.
She let out an indignant huff, and he grinned as he took the stairs two at a time, her fists thumping against his back in protest.
“God, you’re so—”
“So what, Navy?” she taunted, wriggling in his grasp, smacking his back like she could control him.
His low chuckle vibrated through his chest. “So goddamn lucky I like my women mouthy.”
The second they reached the master bedroom, he flipped her off his shoulder and onto the bed—but before he could cage her in, before he could claim her the way his body ached to, Maddie was already moving.
She pushed up on her elbows, hair wild, lips kiss-swollen, looking like every sin he’d ever wanted to commit.
But there was something new in her eyes.
Something sharp. Something hungry.
“Take off your shirt,” she ordered.
Heath arched a brow, deliberately slow as he dragged his hands down the front of it. “You giving me commands now, Doc?”
Her smirk was lethal. “I told you. I’m in charge.”
Fuck.
His pulse spiked.
Something feral unfurled in his chest, setting his blood on fire.
She wasn’t playing around.
Maddie McAuley—reserved, guarded, controlled—was giving orders, and fuck if that didn’t make him harder than he’d ever been in his life. His cock had already filled his boxers, long and hard and impatient.
“Then come take it off me,” he said, voice rough.
For a split second, her breath hitched, hesitation flickering over her features—but then, she moved.
And Christ, did she move.
She crawled toward him, her hands sliding up his stomach, over his chest, her fingers slow, teasing, nails scraping lightly over the fabric.
He let out a shaky breath, let her feel the way his body reacted to her touch. She was the one in control here. She could ruin him if she wanted to. And fuck, he wanted her to.
Maddie sat back on her knees, grip tightening on the hem of his shirt, her gaze daring him to stop her. He didn’t. Wouldn’t.
Instead, he raised his arms, let her pull it up—slow, agonizing—until the cotton peeled away from his skin, exposing muscle, sweat, the heavy rise and fall of his chest as she took her time.
When she finally tossed his shirt aside, she didn’t move away.
She stayed kneeling before him, perched on the bed—her hands on him.
Palms smoothing over his pecs, down his abs, lingering just above his belt buckle.
She was testing him. Seeing how far he’d let her go.
His jaw clenched, every muscle in his body locked down tight, ready to snap.
She shifted lower, her lips and tongue tracing a scorching path down his chest, her nails digging into his sides just enough to make him hiss. She felt his abs tighten, his breath hitch when she reached his hips, teasing him with the flick of her tongue, the light scrape of her teeth.
He groaned, head tilting back. “Fuck, Maddie.”
She grinned against his skin. “I love hearing you like that.”
He dipped his head, eyes locking onto hers. “Then make me louder.”
She did.
And then, she smiled—slow, wicked, almost innocent if not for the heat in her eyes. His breath was a slow drag through his teeth with her hands trailing up his thighs with a deliberate slowness that made his muscles twitch.
“Now the jeans,” she murmured, voice like silk wrapping around steel.
His head tipped back, a groan escaping before he could stop it. “Damn, this is torture.”
She hummed in response, not moving an inch, just watching him, waiting—because she knew exactly what she was doing, fingers teasing along the edge of his belt, slow, agonizing.
His hands joined hers at his belt, yanking it free in one sharp motion, the buckle clinking as he let it drop. His jeans followed in a swift slide down his legs, pooling at his feet, kicking them aside.
Maddie’s hands caught on the waistband of his boxers. She traced the outline of his cock with her palm, dragging his boxers just an inch lower, teasing, torturing, her gaze locked on his. Her lips parted like she was considering something dangerous.
His cock pulsed, edged with warning. He was one second from pinning her down and burying himself in her pussy.
She only smiled, dark and knowing. “Patience, Navy.”
Her voice was pure sin, and his stomach went tight, anticipation curling low in his spine as she finally, finally eased his boxers down, inch by inch, slower than any man should have to endure. His cock sprung out, aggressive and demanding.
And there he was—his full erection standing in her face.
She palmed his girth, and leaned forward, tasting the length of his cock.
She moaned in pleasure as she slowly sucked his cock, back and forth, as if savouring him.
Heat flared in his gut as her gaze met his, her pupils blowing wide, and he knew—he fucking knew—this was the hottest thing he’d ever seen.
She was worshiping him with her tongue, her eyes, taking her time, savoring the moment like she’d never had the chance before. And he was ready to fucking blow.
And when her hands smoothed down his thighs again, nails just grazing, Heath felt himself unraveling, every nerve ending tuned to the singular, devastating fact—
She had him.
And she knew it.
Before she could command anything else, he reached for her hair—but she smacked his hands away. He froze, stunned, watching as she pulled his cock out of her mouth, lifted herself up, wrapped her arms around his neck, and whispered against his lips—
“You don’t touch unless I tell you to,” she said.
Then she gripped his wrist and yanked him down to the bed. And Heath had never been more ready to fuck in his entire goddamn life.
Heath landed hard on his back with a grunt, the mattress dipping beneath his weight as Maddie knelt at the foot of the mattress, eyes dark with challenge. She had that look—fire in her veins, something reckless sparking in her that he had no intention of putting out.
She crossed her arms, looking him up at down, watching his hard cock glistening with her saliva bouncing on his abdomen. “You gonna just lie there, Navy?”
He grinned, slow and lazy, arms stretching above his head as he made a show of getting comfortable. “You’re the one who gave the order, Doc. I’m just waiting to see what you do with it.”
Her throat worked as she swallowed, but she didn’t hesitate. She reached for the hem of her tank top, dragging it over her head in one swift motion, leaving nothing but smooth, bare skin and the thin strap of her bra cutting across her shoulders.
Heath’s hands itched to touch, to grip, to kneel before her like a damn supplicant and let her use him however she wanted. But he didn’t move. He let her set the pace.
She stepped forward, eyes flicking over him, assessing. Her fingers traced along the waist of her yoga pants, toying with the fabric like she was considering.
“Take this off for me,” she said softly.
He didn’t have to be told twice. He sat up just enough to reach around her, unhooking her bra.
He helped her shrug out of it, tossing it aside.
He slid her yoga pants down, hooking into the panty, too.
Her lips parted as her gaze dragged down, taking in the lines of his chest working as he tore off the remnants of her clothes and threw them aside.
She enjoyed watching the taut muscles of his abdomen, the thick cut of his arms—working upon her demand.
He caught her wrist suddenly, dragging her closer until she was straddling him, his hands sliding down to grip her hips, fingers flexing. “That all you got, boss?”
Her nails scraped up his chest, slow and deliberate. “I don’t know, Carrington,” she murmured, shifting in his lap, making his entire body tighten like a drawn bow. “Why don’t you have a taste?
She let her hands tangle into his hair, nails grazing, teasing, testing the way his breath hitched when she pulled his mouth closer to her breasts.
A low, rough sound rumbled in his throat as he grabbed her waist with one hand, her breast with the other.
He rolled his tongue over her nipple, tasting, teasing, worshipping.
She moaned, grinding into him, as he found the other breast, his hands and tongue working to find all the most sensitive places.
“Careful, Doc,” he warned, voice hoarse. “You keep this up, I’m not gonna be responsible for what happens next.”
She leaned in, lips grazing his ear. “I think that’s the point.”
A sharp curse left his lips as he surged up and claimed her mouth.
His hands grasping the back of her head, kissing her deep, full of teeth and tongue and the taste of her—hot, addictive, driving him out of his goddamn mind.
His fingers dug into her thighs, holding her down onto him, needing to feel every inch of her pressed against him.
“You’re a menace,” he muttered, mouth skimming along her jaw, down the column of her throat, feeling the hitch in her breath, the way her pulse thrummed against his lips.
She wrapped her legs around him, heels digging into the backs of his thighs. “Then what does that make you?”
He leaned in, nose brushing hers, voice low and rough.
“Yours.” She had him. Fucking had him.
And she knew it.
“Then, make me come, Navy. Now,” she demanded.
His chest rose and fell, his restraint hanging by a thread. “Say please.”
Her brow arched. “Excuse me?” She pushed him back against the pillow. “Learn how to take orders.”