Scorpio

by Lauren Landish

  Madison’s silent as she opens the sparkling water, taking a sip as we sit down on the barstools at the counter. “His name . . . his name was Rich,” she says softly, her head hanging low. I hate him already for making her feel like this. “He and I met at work.”

  “Stella’s?” I ask, and she shakes her head.

  “No. I was doing couple of nights a week at Stella’s, but at the time, I was also working an office job. Rich came in. He was an executive for a company and had an appointment with my boss. He was persistent and kind, brought me flowers and coffee when he came in every time after that first meeting. I was flattered, so I figured what the hell and gave him my number. We started dating not long after. Everything was peaches and cream . . . for the first couple of months or so.”

  “And then?”

  “It started with words. How I needed him, how he’d take care of me because without him, I couldn’t make it on my own. Then, eventually, a smack on the ass became . . . more. And each time, he’d remind me that I’d be nothing without him.”

  I sit on my stool, my hand clenching around the green glass bottle of Perrier as I imagine this asshole treating Madison that way.

  “It came to a head one night. He grabbed me, held my wrists really tight, and dragged me to the bedroom saying he was going to teach me a lesson I’d never forget. He pinned me down, held my wrists, and laid on top of me.” She rubs at her wrists mindlessly as she talks. “I cried out, loudly, I guess, and a neighbor knocked on the door, threatening to call the cops. Rich was worried about his image, so he stopped, but I’d already seen the truth. He crossed a line that night, and neither of us came back unchanged. So when he went to sleep, I packed a bag as quietly as I could and left.”

  “Where’d you go? May’s?” I ask, horrified at her story.

  Madison shakes her head. “No. Aunt May had done so much for me, I didn’t want to ask for even more unless I had no other choice. I had a key to Stella’s from when I closed up, so I went there and slept on the couch in her office. Stella came in the next morning and asked what happened. I cried as I told her the whole story and she held me. I had to hold her too because she wanted to go after Rich. But finally, I convinced her that I just wanted to live my life . . . free of him and on my own two feet. She offered me a place to stay and bumped me to full-time so I could quit my office job and I wouldn’t have to see him again.”

  I nod. “Have you seen him or has he tried to contact you since?”

  “No! Thank God,” Madison says, her bottle rattling a little. “He never even came to Stella’s, just wrote me off like I was nothing. I don’t know what I’d do if I did see him. Some days, I think I’d beat the shit out of him for all the times he hurt me. Others,” I admit to myself, “I’d probably just hide and avoid him.”

  I growl and down the rest of my water to calm myself a little before replying. “He'd better pray to God he never comes around when you’re with me.” I see her stiffen, and I lower my voice as much as I can. “Do I really remind you of him?”

  “No,” Madison admits and looks up for a minute before she continues. “It’s just those qualities you possess . . . strong, powerful, dominant, confident. Like Tiff says, it’s definitely my type. But it also makes me wonder what will happen when you don’t get what you want.”

  Her words jolt me a little. I’m not going to lie. I feel very possessive of her right now. But only to protect her, not to control her. I’d never hurt her, definitely not physically, and not emotionally. But I worry I am already, just by being myself. And while I’d pluck the moon from the sky for this woman, I don’t know if I can change who I fundamentally am for her. I don’t think she’d like me if I did either.

  She stares at me, noticing the turmoil on my face. She reaches up, placing a hand on my chest, and starts tracing a finger over my tattoo through my shirt, already having the lines memorized. “But I realize that those qualities don’t mean you’re like Rich. It’s just my self-doubt and insecurities. You’re a good man, Scott, and you have everything the world has to offer at your fingertips. Which makes me wonder why you’re wasting your time with someone like me.”

  I place my hand over hers, lifting her hand to my lips and kissing her fingertips. “Listen to me. Your value is not determined by that asshole’s inability to see your worth. You’re not a waste of my time, and you’re more than what you realize. You’re . . . everything to me.”

  I almost see her crack a smile. Almost. I stand and move behind her, drawing her close into my arms. “Thank you for sharing that with me. I know it was hard. I think I get it better now, why you let me in, then run away. It’s scary on many levels. I’ll admit that not knowing what you’ll do, how you’ll respond, or what you’ll think is part of the mysterious intrigue about you that I love. It drives me crazy, but I fucking love it. I hope that the reverse is also true, that my ambition, possessiveness, and confidence can be the flame that draws you to me too.”

  I turn her and my lips finds hers. Our kiss deepens, and I cup her soft breast through her T-shirt, causing her to whimper.

  “I’ve got you,” I say, stepping back and taking her hand. She stands, and I let her lead the way, surprised when she doesn’t head upstairs but instead to my couch, where she has me sit down before straddling my lap and kissing me even more deeply.

  We explore each other, taking it slow and soft even though my desire to conquer her urges me to go faster. But this is Madison’s time, the time to let her see that I don’t have to control everything every time.

  Instead, I hold back, letting her place my arms behind my head. “Stay,” she whispers. I watch as she reaches down and pulls her shirt up and off, dropping it to living room floor. Wordlessly, she presses her breasts against my face, and I nuzzle them, covering the tops of them with butterfly kisses until she undoes her bra and releases them for my worship.

  “Even as you worried me, you drew me in,” Madison moans as my lips find her left nipple and I suck, tugging at it lightly with my teeth. “Because you make me feel alive.”

  She grinds on my lap, my cock pulsing and surging inside my jeans as she rides me. My hands clench the back of the couch with the desire to touch her skin, to feel her body with my fingertips. But I control myself, giving her what she most needs in this moment . . . reassurance that she holds all the power. Any power I ever take in our coupling is only from what she gives, and right now, she wants it all and she can have it. She can have anything, everything.

  “That’s so good,” Madison murmurs as I kiss over to her other nipple. She lets me suck and nuzzle for several long moments of heaven before standing up.

  Madison unsnaps her jeans and pushes them down, kicking off her untied sneakers before looking up and grinning at my still body and heated eyes. “You can take your jeans off, you know. I didn’t tie your hands.”

  I grin, pulling my T-shirt over my head even though she didn’t say so and shucking my jeans and tennis shoes. My cock springs straight up, nearly arcing over to slap me in the stomach before bobbing back and forth to my heartbeat for Madison’s approval. I place my hands back over the edge of the couch behind me, giving her a raised eyebrow. “Maybe I like your being in control. Doing all the work.”

  Madison grins at my challenge and saunters the short distance, straddling my hips again and taking my cock in hand. “Do all the work, huh? And if I decide the only work that’ll be done is by your right hand? What then?”

  I return her grin, holding up my right hand. “On myself or your sweet little clit? Your choice.”

  Madison pants softly and pumps my cock with her hand. “You say just the right things,” she says, sinking down. The head of my cock spreads her open, and she sighs, smiling at me as her hands rest on my chest, one covering the scorpion tattoo that started this whole wild ride. “Grab my ass while I fuck you.”

  I obey, happy to have permission to touch her, and reach around to cup Madison’s perfect ass as she starts to rise and fall. Her pussy grips my cock as she r
ides, her eyes rolling back as she bounces on my cock. I let her go at her own pace, my hands supporting her as she takes what she needs.

  “That’s it, beautiful,” I murmur, encouraging her. “Use me. Take what you need. I’m here for you.”

  Madison’s hips speed up, rising and falling in time with our heartbeats. Her breasts sway and bounce in front of me, and I take one into my mouth as she leans back, her pussy squeezing and milking my cock while I add to the sensation.

  “Scott . . . oh, fuck . . . I’m gonna . . .” she moans, riding faster and faster, leaning forward and planting her hands on the back of the sofa.

  Her back arches fiercely as she takes me balls-deep, and I grab a handful of her ass, encouraging her. She cries out, overwhelmed by the feeling as her body goes over, her climax rolling through her in shuddering waves that set me off too. I’m close behind, kissing her tenderly as my cock swells, the sweetest orgasm I’ve ever felt rolling from the tips of my toes all the way through the end of my cock, both of us gasping and shaking.

  “I . . . I’ve never felt that before,” I gasp as Madison lays her head on my shoulder, her body still trembling. “Never.”

  “Me either,” she says softly, running a hand through her hair and sitting up, my cock still inside her.

  I nod, stroking her back tenderly. “I don’t want it to stop.”

  She nods and leans forward, kissing my lips tenderly.

  We stay there, looking into each other’s eyes until my cock finally softens and slips out before getting up and heading upstairs. There’s no need for a round two. This time was something . . . different. Instead, I set my alarm and slide into bed, Madison joining me. After turning the lights out, she murmurs in the dark. “Scott . . . maybe I could bring a couple of things over. Nothing major, just a few T-shirts for work?”

  It feels like a win, a small victory, but one nonetheless with this woman. An olive branch, one she hopes I’ll take gently and not leave her with more scars. I grin against her hair, pulling her tight against me. “A few T-shirts or your whole wardrobe, Maddie. I’m good with whatever you’re ready for. Oh, except one request.”

  She looks back at me, and in the moonlight, I can see the question in her eyes. “What’s that?”

  I give her a smacking kiss. “A toothbrush. I’ll get you one to keep here.” And then I wink at her cockily.

  She grins and snuggles back in as my little spoon. Yep, definitely a winner, and Madison is the best prize I can imagine. That fucker Rich didn’t know what he had, but I’m fucking glad because now she’s mine, even if she doesn’t fully realize it. She’s mine, and I’m fucking hers.

  Chapter 17

  Madison

  Daily Horoscope, October 8th

  Libra – Your mask hides the real you from the world, but also from yourself. Is the sacrifice of not living as your true self worth it?

  The morning sunlight diffuses through the room, waking me up early. Part of it, of course, is that I went to bed early. Stella’s stays open until midnight every day but Sunday, so going to bed before two in the morning is early for me.

  I stretch and realize that Scott is still sleeping peacefully beside me. Glancing over at the bedside clock, I see that it’s not even seven in the morning yet, and the only reason we’re getting any light at all is because of how high up in the sky we are compared to the rest of the city.

  I get out of bed, nature calling me to take care of my morning needs. I take my phone to the bathroom with me, checking my notifications. Tiff’s morning horoscope is boring, just the cut-paste from whatever website she uses with no notes. Vaguely, I wonder if she’s mad at me or something, but I try to dismiss it as just a busy day and a ho-hum prediction.

  I’m stunned as I come back out. The sun’s risen a little more, and now the whole city is bathed in a pink-orange glow. It’s so beautiful that my heart catches in my chest, and I think about how removed this place is from my usual life. I normally wake up at noon to the sound of the garbage trucks emptying the dumpsters at the gas station next door.

  How did I get here?

  I’m still a little in shock at yesterday’s whole turn of events. The whole shopping spree of a day was completely out of my comprehension. But the better part was after, when he’d listened to me talk about Rich without making me feel less than because of what I’d put up with. And the way he’d kept his hands behind the couch for me said more than a whole speech’s worth of words.

  He’s possessive and domineering, but he’s just as much mine as I am his. I feel like he wants me to revel in my own power as much as he wants power over me. That balance is exciting and the antithesis of what happened with Rich, who was threatened by my spirit and tried to squash it, squash me into the cartoon version of a girlfriend he wanted. I’d told Scott last night that he reminded me of Rich, and yeah, they share some traits, but the truth is . . . Scott is nothing like Rich. Scott makes me feel like what I am, who I am, is just right. Enough. Worthy.

  As I stare out over the city through the huge windows, snippets of memory play across my mind . . . Scott at the bar, ice skating, the fancy dinner, the sex. As a smile steals across my face, a disembodied voice echoes through my head.

  Your heart shall be his . . . and then will come the sting . . . you will suffer . . . and then burn.

  Damn it. I still don’t think that fucking prediction is real, but considering I was just contemplating that Scott has my heart, the fact that my mind dialed it up is chill-inducing. May had joked about Scott’s dick being ‘the sting’, but now that I have real feelings for Scott, have given him my heart, or at least a growing chunk of it, Marie’s prediction seems more dire. I’m floating on a high right now, and a sting seems like a haunting threat to what we’re building.

  I try to shake the pall of doom from my mind, not wanting to create a self-fulfilling prophecy of my own by worrying about Marie’s dark words. No. I’ve got something good here, and I’m going to appreciate it, nurture it, and enjoy it, not stress about maybes and mights.

  I head into the kitchen, checking out what Scott stocks in his fridge. It smacks of the essence of bachelorhood, but he’s got more than takeout leftovers and microwave meals at least. There’s eggs, real cream . . . and bacon. All I need. I might not be able to spoil him with shopping sprees, but I’ve got my own special skills and I can treat him the best way I know how.

  Finding some mixing bowls and a fry pan, I get to work, singing some Dolly to myself while I whip up some breakfast. Too bad this man doesn’t know the benefits of good old-fashioned cast iron, but I guess the copper-bottomed pan does an okay job of crisping up the bacon. As I take the last piece of bacon out and get ready to fry up an omelet in the grease, I hear a grunt and a sniff behind me.

  I spin, luckily only having a fork in my hand, which clatters to the marble flooring. It’s Scott, standing there in just a pair of boxer shorts and nothing else and looking tastier than the best-crisped bacon on the plate beside me.

  He’s staring at me in surprise and worry floods me. Did I overstep? Should I have been rooting around in his kitchen? “Something wrong? I thought I’d make you some breakfast.”

  “Your face,” he says.

  “My face?” I worriedly ask, wondering if maybe I’ve got a bad pillow line or something. “What’s wrong with my face?”

  Scott recovers and steps closer. “Nothing. Your makeup is just worn off. You look beautiful.”

  I turn, staring at my reflection in the black polished surface of the fridge in horror. I feel so vulnerable, so naked without my makeup, something that I’ve used as my protection for so long, a layer between me and everyone else.

  Scott wraps an arm around me, turning me toward him as his eyes scan my face. I instinctively dip my chin, trying to block his view, but he lifts my face with a gentle hand on my jaw. “Don’t hide from me, Madison. Let me see you . . . all of you. You’re gorgeous.” He runs a soft finger along my cheek and then down the bridge of my nose. “You have freckles. Wh
y would you hide them? I want to kiss each one, memorize them in every light.”

  I look at him like he’s crazy, but there’s only honesty in his eyes. My voice is quiet. “Are you saying you don’t like my makeup?”

  His eyes meet mine. “I’m saying that I already knew you were stunning, but you have never been more so than right now . . . barefaced, half-dressed in my shirt, with your hair a mess from my hands.”

  And in his arms, his words washing over me, I have never felt more beautiful. I believe him because I feel the same way about his appearance this morning . . . mussed hair, scruffy shadow of a beard, his chest on display, even that damn tattoo. It feels like a secret view, not the suited executive everyone else gets. This Scott is just for me.

  He pulls me close, and what starts as a soft, tentative good morning kiss quickly turns into a full-on tongue wrangling, Scott’s cock hardening to press against my hip as he cups my ass. “Mmm . . . you didn’t put your panties back on. I might want some dessert after breakfast, but coffee first,” he teases with a groan, letting me go and heading to the coffee maker.

  “Okay, you can get the coffee started. But after that, sit your cute butt over there while I finish things up.”

  It doesn’t take long to make the omelet, and I slide each half onto a plate and divvy up the bacon. “Breakfast is served, sir.”

  Scott chuckles, but we’re soon both too busy eating to say much, the sound of forks scraping on plates dominating the space for the next few minutes. “Damn, you’re good,” Scott says as he chews the last bit of his bacon. “And why are you slinging beers instead of food?”

  “Better pay,” I quip, making him nod. “You liked it, I take it?”

  “Best omelet I’ve ever had,” Scott says honestly. He takes my hand across the table and pulls me toward him with a wink. Thinking it’s time for that dessert, I get up and move to him, sitting down in his lap to face him. He settles his hands on my thighs, and I lace my arms around his neck. “What’s your plan for today?” he asks, his thumbs tracing circles along my skin.