by Naima Simone
She shoved to her feet, and he followed, but maintained his distance. Let her pace. Let her get this out as if she were lancing a wound and releasing the poison.
Intuition told him she didn’t do this often.
“If I loved him—if I cared about us—I would put my business degree to use and work in a jewelry store instead of designing and selling my own. Make more money. Two years together and he didn’t get that creating my own work was like riding for me. Which, surprise, surprise, he hated, too.” She barked out a laugh. “Both are pure energy, a high. When I’m in my workshop or on a bike, I’m not caged in... I’m free. Whether I’m wrestling with getting the silver to mold just so or riding against the elements, the adrenaline is a rush. How could I give up either? But he didn’t understand. And what he didn’t understand, he resented.”
She halted mid-pace and curled her arms around herself, standing near the rise of the hill, inches from where it dropped off. Her eyes closed, her rich brown skin gleaming in the sun’s rays. His heart thudded against his rib cage, but he ordered himself to remain where he stood. This woman, who craved freedom, wouldn’t appreciate him trying to wrap her in wool.
“I started to realize that he didn’t...like me. Not the real me. He couldn’t if he wanted to change everything about me. But then, several months after my diagnosis, one morning I walked out of our closet into the bedroom, and he looked at me and said, ‘I’m glad you got sick. At least now you’re losing weight.’ That was it for me. I couldn’t do the toxicity, the tearing down of my soul anymore. That day, I refused to give him any more of me. And I promised myself that I wouldn’t change anything about me for a man—for anyone—ever again. So maybe Kenneth wasn’t too wrong. If not for me getting sick, if not for me going to the doctor’s that day, I wouldn’t have woken up and decided to take better care of my health. Decided to get rid of everything and everyone that was poison to me.”
“Cherrie.” Maddox flexed his fingers next to his thighs, desperate to touch her. “Can I hold you?” He would beg her if necessary.
She shifted, considering him over her shoulder. “Yes,” she finally said. Then added, “Please.”
It was that “please” that snapped his control. In three long strides, he was on her, dragging her into his arms. Holding her tight. Probably too tight, but easing his grip was beyond his ability at the moment, and she didn’t protest. No, she gripped him, her fists balled into his T-shirt. Every curve and dip aligned with his harder, larger planes and angles, and they fit. Goddammit, did they fit. A shiver worked through him, and he didn’t try to prevent it. Or hide it. He wanted, needed her to know how she affected him. How her strength humbled him. How her spirit and courage awed him.
Inhaling her scent of lavender, vanilla and the perspiration from their ride, he buried his face in the crook of her neck. And because he couldn’t help himself, he pressed his mouth to the base of her throat, feeling the rapid throb of her pulse against his lips. Rejoicing in it.
“Ask me again,” he demanded, lifting his head and staring down into her almond-brown gaze. “Ask me, Cherrie.”
She didn’t pretend to misunderstand him. But caution, and yes, the whisper of fear he’d glanced earlier in the day, passed through her eyes.
“Maddox,” she said, regret thick in her voice. “You were right to turn me down. Us, this... It isn’t a good idea.”
“I didn’t turn you down,” he argued. “And you think it’s not a good idea—which I disagree with—but it’s inevitable.”
She released his shirt, her hands falling to his waist. Not pushing him away, but not holding him close, either. “I...” She briefly closed her eyes, the long fan of her lashes hiding her eyes from him before she lifted them, and the resolve there set his heart pounding. “I’m not the woman you want, the woman you need. Starting something when I’m only going to leave... It’s not fair. To either one of us. We shouldn’t start what we can’t finish.”
“Then give us right now.” He tunneled his fingers through her hair and drove back a groan at finally, finally having her curls in his hand. Twisting them around his fist. Savoring the coarse silk crush of them between his fingers. “The thought of going through the rest of this life without knowing what it is to kiss you, to taste you, to be buried inside you... It fucking scares me. Right now, baby.” He tugged her head back, and her soft gasp ghosted across his mouth. “So, Cherrie, ask me.”
Indecision shadowed her gaze. But so did the desire making a mockery of his control. After a moment, she sighed. And whispered, “We’re going to have sex, aren’t we?”
“Fuck. Yes.”
Then he crushed his mouth to hers.
CHAPTER FOUR
MISTAKE. THIS WAS such a huge mistake.
And Cherrie didn’t give a damn.
Not with Maddox’s mouth molded to hers. Not with his tongue thrusting, tangling and, God yes, tasting. Not with his hungry moans pouring into her as he devoured her.
Not with his hard, thick and—she whimpered—big cock nudging her belly.
Yes, she might regret this decision to curl her fingers around his biceps, rise on her toes and open wider for him, but at this moment? Nothing else mattered.
One hand in her hair and the other clamped around her hip, he guided her backward, and she trusted him to keep her safe. Closing her eyes, she lost herself in the erotic mesh of their mouths. Every lick and suck catapulted the craving that had been taunting her since she’d first laid eyes on him the previous evening into the stratosphere. She wanted to soar there. Wanted him to send her there.
Sliding her palms up his arms, she wound hers around his neck and jumped, wrapping her legs around his lean waist. And placing her sex in direct alignment with his erection. She whimpered, a bolt of pure lust pile-driving through her and propelling the breath out of her lungs.
Wrenching her mouth away, she dropped her head back and muttered, “Oh God. You feel...”
She didn’t have a chance to complete the sentiment, because he yanked her head back up, took her lips again. He didn’t let up. Not even when her back met the ground and his big body settled between her legs, covering her. Ravenous. It was the only word to describe how he consumed her. No part of her mouth went undiscovered, untouched. And she surrendered to the hunger, let him have free rein because in his taking, he gave. Lord, did Maddox give.
He held nothing back from her. Not his eager moans, the intensity of his need for her, his hoarse words of praise in between the small, tender bites. Just a kiss and she’d never felt so...desired. So vital.
He peppered hot, damp kisses over her lips, cheeks, jaw and chin, then dragged his mouth down her neck, grazing his teeth along her skin. Pausing to gently bite the tendon that ran along the column. She clutched his shoulders, arching her neck and back, silently pleading for more of that tender caress that skated the thin edge of pain.
His big palms stroked the sides of her breasts, her torso, until he fisted the edge of her tank top. “Okay?” he asked, his narrowed gaze on hers. Studying her. Probably for any signs of indecision.
He wouldn’t find any.
She was in. So far in she couldn’t see her way out. That both exhilarated and terrified her.
“Okay,” she said, leveling off the blanket so he could yank the top over her head. She returned the favor by balling his T-shirt in her fingers and tugging the cotton up. Reaching behind his head, he finished the deed by whipping it off. Leaving that wide, muscled chest—spattered with auburn hair—bared to her eyes. “More than okay.” She trailed her fingers over his defined pectorals, glancing across the small, flat nipples.
His growl vibrated in the air, and she smiled. Repeated the teasing caress.
“That’s not nice, baby,” he warned.
“Return the favor.” She stretched her arms above her head, offering her silk-covered breasts to him.
Before she complet
ed the sentence, he captured the beaded tip between his teeth and drew on it. She cried out, the crackling pleasure pulling her higher, tauter.
“Not enough,” he muttered against her, and in moments, her bra disappeared from between them and his tongue and teeth ravished her bare flesh. His hand cupped and squeezed the other heavy breast, readying it for the same sensuous torture its twin received.
“Maddox,” she whined, twisting, shaking beneath him, beneath his relentless and wicked mouth. Fingers cradling his head, she pressed him to her, demanding he give her everything.
He fed on her as if she were every alcoholic drink he’d ever downed, and his single goal was to get drunk on her. Switching breasts, he played with the damp peak, twisting and pinching while his lips and tongue licked, nibbled and sucked.
“God, you’re more gorgeous than I imagined. And believe me, baby,” he whispered, trailing kisses down the center of her torso, “I did a lot of imagining.”
His praise glowed within her like the golden rays that attempted to break through the thick awning of leaves. She accepted her body, even loved her body, in spite of her ex’s attempts to shame her. But God, to hear Maddox express how beautiful he found her...how desirable. Even the most confident woman needed to hear that. Especially from the person she gave her vulnerability and body to.
“I want to see all of you.” He sat back on his heels, his gaze meeting hers—burning into hers—as his fingers worked the button and zipper of her jeans. When she didn’t move to stop him, he quickly divested her of the denim, panties and boots. Belated modesty decided to rear its inconvenient head, and she crossed her arm over her not-flat stomach and angled one leg over the other, concealing herself.
“All of you. Don’t try to hide from me,” he reiterated. “You’re a fantasy. My fantasy, and it seems like I’ve waited forever to have you. Not going to let you deprive me of it. Of you.”
She blinked, his words—the admiration in them, the possessiveness in them—sending her mentally reeling. His fantasy? Had she ever been anyone’s—
“Oh God.” The words exploded from her as his mouth opened over her sex. She hadn’t even realized he’d parted her legs, much less... “Maddox,” she groaned, ecstasy bursting inside her like a geyser.
Without her permission, her legs fell open on either side of his wide shoulders, granting him even more room, easier access. She peered down her body, and the sight of his eyes closed, cheekbones flushed red, thick auburn hair spread over her thighs, his lips wet with...
“Holy hell.” Her hips bucked, writhed, seeking more of that devasting and dirty pleasure.
Tunneling her fingers through his cool, dark red strands, she held him close, unconcerned with anything but chasing the beautiful, stunning orgasm that threatened to crack her in half.
“I could drown in you.” He thrust a finger inside her—no, two—filling her. Oh, Jesus. She wasn’t going to survive his voice, his mouth and his hand. “I could drown in you and never want to come up for air.”
He latched onto her again, his talented and devilish tongue swiping over the bundle of nerves at the top of her sex, torturing her with flicks and firm but indulgent licks. Tremors rippled through her, leaving her shaking, and nearly incoherent cries spilled from her.
“Please don’t stop. Please don’t stop,” she chanted, riding his mouth and fingers. “I need...”
His fingers curled inside her, massaging a place high up as his lips pursed around the button that was the epicenter of her pleasure. He drew hard on her and rubbed harder.
And she was done.
Gone.
He hurled her over the edge, and with a scream that abraded her throat, she went.
By the time she returned to herself, trembling and raw, Maddox had his jeans shoved down around his thighs, his dick in his hand and a condom packet caught between his teeth. Ripping the foil open, he removed the protection and sheathed himself in economical movements that should’ve been far from sexy. But everything this man did screamed sex. And though she’d just enjoyed an epic orgasm, her body hummed; her sex softened, quivered.
Maddox was going to be inside her.
That alone—and those thick, tree-trunk, hair-dusted thighs cradling that beautiful cock—was enough to have her aching and empty.
She stretched her arms toward him, and he captured one of her hands, pressing a kiss to the palm. Using his grasp as leverage, he gently pulled her to a sitting position. Frowning, she stared up at him, but when his hand lowered to her hip and squeezed, his intention dawned as clear as a bright summer day.
Unease flooded her, momentarily batting back the clawing need. She’d never had sex in this position with her ex, because he hadn’t liked the view. No, he’d never vocalized the words, but she knew. What if Maddox...? She shook her head, lowering back to the blanket. No, she couldn’t...
His hand shot out, cradling the nape of her neck. He shifted, crouching over her. “I don’t know what just went through your head, but when I said I wanted to see all of you, I meant all. There’s no part of you that I don’t find fucking gorgeous and sexy. No. Part.” He planted a hot, openmouthed kiss to the sensitive skin under her ear. “Turn over and get on your hands and knees for me. I’ve dreamed about this ass,” he murmured, squeezing her hip and the upper part of her behind. “Now be the brave woman you are and give it to me.”
Lust razed her to the ground, and part of her wondered how she wasn’t a pile of ashes. She blinked up at him, and in that moment, she would’ve offered him anything.
She’d already given him more than was wise.
Slowly, she turned, moving until she did as he asked, pressing her hands and knees to the blanket. Fire tinged her face. She felt too vulnerable, too exposed. She couldn’t do this. Couldn’t...
His hands stroked up her back, curling over her shoulders, then retracing the path, not stopping until he cupped her behind.
“Better than any dream,” he said, squeezing her flesh.
He bent over her, trailing his lips down her spine, lingering at the base to tongue the slight dip. His hands cradled her hips, his touch somehow...worshipful. His caress reverent. And like that, her doubts, her insecurities evaporated, and she believed him. Believed he’d dreamed about her. Wouldn’t reject her.
Wanted her.
He moved up her body, his chest pressed to her back. She closed her eyes, picturing them together. His huge frame covering her, his golden skin contrasting and complementing her darker tone. His silken auburn hair tangling with her coarser darker curls as he bent his head over hers.
“Take me?” he rasped, his lips grazing the shell of her ear.
“Yes. I’m yours.” The words slipped from her, unbidden. But she couldn’t revoke them. Because she meant them. God, no matter how stupid of her, she meant them.
With a deep, almost tortured groan that vibrated from his chest and through her back, he thrust into her.
Her head flew back on her shoulders, a sharp wail erupting from her. Her spine arched from the clash of pleasure and pain. The combination ricocheted through her like a discordant yet harmonious duet, and she shook with it.
His arm wrapped around her waist like a steel band, holding her to him. His low words barely penetrated, but the soothing, rumbled tone did. Second by second, muscle by muscle, she relaxed. Her sex quivered around his huge, thick length and width, slowly acclimating itself to the intrusion.
“Easy, baby.” He scattered gentle but feverish kisses to her ear, her nape, the tops of her shoulders. “Relax and breathe for me. You can take me. There’s nothing you can’t do.”
He held still above her, but as time ticked by, it wasn’t enough. The threads of pain segued into a taut, greedy need that only he could assuage. But to do that, he had to move.
“Maddox.” She flexed her hips, moaned as pleasure undulated through her. “I need you to...”
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br /> “Yeah,” he finished for her.
He withdrew, his stiff flesh dragging through her ultrasensitive sheath, setting off tiny pulses and sparks. She whimpered, and when he buried himself back inside her, it turned into a cry. Hands gripping her hips, he rode her, stroking into her. Reshaping her, branding her so she was his and his alone. No one else would do for her after him. No one could fill her to capacity and beyond, chase away the emptiness, make her...feel.
Not content to be passive, she bucked her hips, grinding against him, urging him to take her harder, faster, thrusting back on his cock. His dirty chuckle floated over her, as did his dark, low urging to “go on and get what you want,” that “it’s yours.” His words inflamed her, drove her to crash and burn with him.
Once more, he covered her, one hand folding around her breast, pinching the turgid nipple and the other slipping between her slick, trembling thighs.
“Give it to me, baby,” he growled, fingers circling her engorged button, rubbing it. “Give everything to me.”
With a choked, almost soundless scream, she broke. Cracked. Exploded into pieces, so many pieces. Her mind flew in one direction, her soul in the other. And her body... Her body belonged to him. Was grounded by him.
As she drifted back to some semblance of sanity, Maddox stiffened over her, his hips snapping and powering into her. He seized, his long groan echoing in her ear as he came, his heavy frame blanketing her as they both tumbled to the blanket.
He rolled, gathering her in his arms, his thick legs tangled with hers. Silence fell around them, broken only by their rough breath.
“Stay.” His low, ragged voice belied the tender stroking of his hand up and down her spine. “Stay with me.”