by Megan Hart
“Hiro,” she began, but it was too late. He’d already disconnected.
Slowly and deliberately, despite her shaking hands, Madeline managed to block Hiro’s number. Then she let herself sink to the floor, to her hands and knees. She waited for the tsunami of emotions to overtake her. To sweep her away. She waited for the tears, and when they came, she gave herself up to that final outpouring of a grief that had been eating her alive for so many years it had become as ingrained as her favorite color.
She wept for a long time, and when she’d cried until there was nothing left but a raw throat and swollen eyes, she stumbled to the bathroom and got beneath the hot water of the shower, where she curled into a ball on the tile floor and stayed there until the water began to run cold. Then another few long minutes until her teeth chattered and her entire body tensed and shook with the chill.
In the mirror, her reflection looked wan and fragile, and that would not do. Not at all. She brushed her teeth, rinsed and spat. She combed her hair, letting the thickness of it fall in dark waves past her naked shoulders. She looked again, standing straight. Standing tall.
“What is a queen without her crown?” Madeline asked herself aloud. “Still a goddamned queen.”
She had loved fiercely. She had loved brightly. She could and would still be able to love that same way, even if it was a different man.
She was already beginning to.
Nineteen
Madeline had invited him over so she could break it off with him. Eric couldn’t have said exactly why he knew this was the truth, only that he stood at her front door for too long without knocking because he was so sure that once he did, all of this would be over. He couldn’t face it, the loss of her, even if in the long run he knew it might be for the best. End things now before either one of them could really get hurt.
Fuck that, he thought. It would not be for the best. It couldn’t be. And it was already too late, because if she ended it, he would be devastated, even if he knew it would have been his own stupid fault.
He loved her, and he’d been a fool not to say so when he had the chance. It didn’t matter that they’d only known each other for a short time. There weren’t any rules about love. If she gave him the opportunity tonight, Eric vowed as he finally lifted his fist to rap his knuckles on the door, if Madeline just gave him the chance, he would tell her. Please, please, let her give him the chance.
When the door opened, he braced himself. He was not expecting her to grab the front of his shirt and pull him down to her mouth, or the deep kiss she gave him. Her tongue swept his. Eric shuddered.
Madeline tugged him forward, still kissing him, and pushed the door shut behind them both. When they broke for air, both panting, she took his face in her hands. She had to push up on her tiptoes to do it. Her gaze pierced his.
“Eric.” She breathed his name.
The longing in her voice undid him. Without thinking about it, acting on instinct, he dropped slowly to his knees in front of her. Her hands ran through his hair, and she put one beneath his chin to tip it toward her. She was shaking.
“Madeline, Madeline, Madeline,” he whispered.
“Why are you on your knees?” She spoke the words as though she already knew the answer, and Eric supposed she did.
He hoped she did.
“I want to be yours,” he told her.
“Baby, oh, my sweetheart. I want you to be mine.” Madeline gave a hitching, teary laugh. She drew her fingertip over his lips, parting them, then gently tucked her finger inside.
“Yes, please,” he managed to say around the intrusion of her finger. When she removed it, he took her hand and kissed the palm, then each fingertip. He looked up at her. “Please. It’s what I want.”
They’d already talked about rules. Hard lines. Soft lines. Expectations. Consequences, discipline, rewards. They’d covered everything already, with only this small, final agreement to make it all real.
“Take me upstairs,” she said.
He unfolded himself and bent to lift her without effort, although she let out a small cry and clung to him. Up the stairs, down the hall. Into her bedroom he carried her and put her onto the bed, where he covered her with his body so he could kiss her.
She rolled them to end up with her on top, her knees gripping his sides. She gave him a wicked smile, so beautiful even though the hint of tears remained in her eyes. She ran her hands up and over his body, leaning forward to look into his eyes as one hand curled around his throat. He arched with a groan, offering her everything. All of it.
“I want to be yours,” he said again.
“You are mine.”
He hadn’t been paying attention to the satin kimono she’d been wearing. Now she loosened the large flat ribbon of a tie at her waist to allow it to fall open, baring her perfect breasts. His hands went naturally to her waist, his fingers splayed on her hips. Her skin, warm beneath his palms, was like silk. He ran them up her belly to cup the weight and warmth of her breasts, letting his thumbs move across her nipples.
Madeline moaned. Her nipples tightened. She let her head fall back, then lifted a hand to tug the pins from her hair so it tumbled in sleek ebony waves down her shoulders and back. The silver streaks gleamed, gorgeous. She shrugged to let the robe fall from her shoulders. It puddled at her waist. She sat upright and pulled his shirt up to expose his belly. Higher, then, until she could twist his nipples.
He arched again at the small, bright pain that radiated through his entire body and merged into pleasure. His hands moved to her waist again, urging her forward. It took her a minute or so to move upward so she could straddle his face, but once she settled that sweet heat against his lips, Eric closed his eyes. Opened his mouth.
The rest of the world fell away.
He had to do nothing but this. Slow sweeps of his tongue against her slickness. He found her clit with his lips and tugged. She cried out. He licked again with the flat of his tongue, keeping the pressure and pace steady and consistent, the way she liked it. Needed it.
“Oh, my lovely darling,” Madeline breathed, her accent more prominent than usual. She rocked against his mouth.
He drew in the scent of her, that familiar but still exciting musky sweetness. She was so wet he had to pause and swallow her honeyed nectar. She moaned when his tongue stilled; she cried out, low and guttural, when he began using it again. His cock ached, hard, but right then Eric didn’t care about his own pleasure.
In only minutes, she was shaking. Her thighs pressed the sides of his face. Her body rocked. Beneath his mouth, her cunt swelled, then throbbed. A gush of her slick glory covered his mouth and chin. His dick pulsed and his balls tightened. He wasn’t doing this for his own sake — his release happened with hers, her pleasure enough to sate him even though he hadn’t had his own orgasm.
Madeline sighed and eased off his face to fall onto the bed next to him. Her eyes closed, she lolled, arms and legs sprawling. She said nothing, but the blissful smile on her face told Eric everything he needed to know.
He rolled onto his side to rest a hand lightly on her belly. She’d been sweating, so her skin was warm. He studied her profile. The dark sweep of her lashes casting shadows on the cool ivory of her skin. Her pink lips, parted now as she drifted into sated sleep.
Gently, he tugged a throw blanket from the foot of the bed up to cover them both as he settled into the pillow. He closed his own eyes. His arousal hadn’t faded. He could be ready for her in a few strokes. But this was not about him.
Being owned meant providing her with whatever she needed. Service. Loyalty. Whatever pleasure he was granted from any of that would be hers to decide, and he had no worries or doubts there would be plenty of satisfaction for him. Right now, it was enough to lay here with her and drift along with her to the sound of her soft breathing.
“Eric.”
He looked at her. “Yes, Madeline.”
She ran her hand over his cheek and tucked his hair behind his ear. Her fingers lingered, c
upping his face. “I would be tremendously honored if you would call me Ma’am.”
“Yes, Ma’am. Thank you, Ma’am.” He wanted then to tell her that he loved her, but somehow, this seemed even better than that.
Madeline moved to snuggle against him, her lips pressed to his neck. They held each other. She fit inside his embrace as though she’d had never spent a second out of it.
“I own you,” she whispered, her voice laden with emotion. She shook, this time not with ecstasy, and he held her tighter. “Mine.”
He stroked a hand down her hair, letting it tangle in his fingers but making sure not to pull it. He kissed her forehead. They breathed together. In and out.
“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” Madeline said.
Eric laughed. “Nope.”
She twisted to look at him with that familiar, wicked look in her eyes. “So. What shall we do about it?”
He stretched, making sure to leave his arms extended along the extremely convenient slats of her headboard. “I wouldn’t be presumptuous to say, but I’m sure you’ll be able to come up with a suitable discipline.”
“Oh…my…yes,” Madeline said and threw her head back for a moment, her laughter giddy and infectious, so that he had no choice but to join her. They laughed together. Her chuckles softened. She looked at him. “I have a few things in mind.”
“I’m all yours,” he told her.
She kissed him.
Then again.
She kissed him long and slow and deep and sweet.
“Yes,” she said. “You are.”
Bad at Love
They all have one thing in common…they’re bad at love…
Hiro and Madeline…their history. Coming 2019!
Madeline and Eric’s story continues. Coming 2019!
Also by Megan Hart
All the Lies We Tell
All the Secrets We Keep
A Heart Full of Stars
Always You
Broken
Castle in the Sand
Clearwater
Crossing the Line
Deeper
Dirty
Don’t Deny Me
Everything Changes
Every Part of You
Flying
Hold Me Close
Indecent Experiment
Lovely Wild
Naked
Out of the Dark
Passion Model
Precious and Fragile Things
Reawakened Passions
Ride with the Devil
Selfish is the Heart
Stranger
Stumble into Love
Switch
Tear You Apart
Tempted
The Darkest Embrace
The Favor
The Resurrected One: First Come the Storms
The Resurrected Two: And Then the Infection
The Resurrected Three: And After That…Resurrection
Womb
The Space Between Us
Vanilla
About the Author
I was born and then I lived awhile. Then I did some stuff and other things. Now, I mostly write books. Some of them use a lot of bad words, but most of the other words are okay.
I can’t live without music, the internet, or the ocean, but I have kicked the Coke Zero habit. I can’t stand the feeling of corduroy or velvet, and modern art leaves me cold. I write a little bit of everything from horror to romance, and I don’t answer to the name “Meg.”
Megan Hart is a USA Today, Publisher’s Weekly and New York Times bestselling author who writes in many genres including mainstream fiction, erotic fiction, science fiction, romance, fantasy and horror. If you liked this book, please tell everyone you love to buy it. If you hated it, please tell everyone you hate to buy it.
Find me here!
www.meganhart.com
[email protected]