Love Her Madly

by Christie Ridgway

“Do I know you?” Mrs. Roth spoke over her, her gaze fixed on Bing. “I feel as if I do.”

  “It was last March. Your mailbox had fallen from the post and I fixed it.”

  What?

  “Yes, yes.” Mrs. Roth beamed. “Thank you so much.”

  There was another round of her trying to pass on that crumpled dollar bill. This time pushed toward Bing. He resisted, of course, and soon enough they were on their way. Alexa tried to ignore him keeping pace at her side, then she couldn’t hold in her curiosity a second longer. “You did what for Mrs. Roth?”

  He glanced at her. “I drove by, saw her mailbox on the ground. I stopped. I fixed it.” His mouth formed a scowl as she continued to stare at him. “It was between kicking a puppy and slapping a kitten, if that makes you feel any better.”

  “But Brody’s the good twin,” she pointed out. “Where was he?”

  “Fuck,” he muttered. “I don’t know.” They’d reached the end of her walk now. Just a few feet and she’d be inside, away from him. She looked forward to it, she decided.

  One foot turned onto the path that took her away from him. Permanently. She focused on the pink of her toenails. The color was called “Paradise.”

  “Where are you going?” Bing asked.

  “Onto the rest of my life,” she answered promptly. “Turns out, you’re just not bad enough for me.”

  He caught her elbow and yanked her back against him. His words were hot in her ear. “Not so fast.”

  Alexa was hustled into her house so quickly that it seemed like Bing had flown them there. She dug her bare feet into the hall rug as she realized he was propelling her toward the bedroom. “Wait. What’s going on?”

  He paused, looking down at her with summer eyes that looked anything but cloudless sky. They were a fiery, intense blue that seemed to lick over her skin. She shivered. “I’ve decided you’re right. It shouldn’t be that difficult for you to get laid.”

  “Well maybe I don’t want you to be the one taking care of that anymore,” she said, trying to tug her arm free again.

  He didn’t release her. “Sorry, baby. You poked the tiger when you said I’m not bad enough for you.”

  Oh. My.

  His nose came close enough to touch hers. “Now I’ve got things to prove.”

  Her feminine instincts went on high alert, half of them rising to cheer, the other half advising a speedy exit. “Um.” When had the temperature turned so sultry? “I don’t know…”

  “Don’t worry. It won’t hurt…too much.”

  There was wickedness in his eyes, but amusement too, and she wondered if he thought it was she who might back out now. Well, forget that. There was still that passion for him that had to be exorcised. And… “I have a list,” she confessed.

  He blinked and straightened away from her. “A what?”

  “A list.” Brazen it out, Alexa. “A sex list. So yeah, you have a job.”

  “I do?”

  “I’ve been naked with a man exactly two times in twenty-six years. God knows when I’ll get another opportunity, at the rate I’m going. So we’re going to tick items off my list.”

  He laughed. “Is this supposed to scare me away?”

  “You have to teach me about all of them.”

  His eyelids slid to half-mast. “Now this is sounding interesting. Do you have these written down?”

  She tapped her temple with her forefinger. “Here.”

  He smiled. “Let’s get a paper and pencil.”

  “No!” Suddenly shy, her face felt crimson. “And…and I need to take a shower. Can’t get into bed with dirty feet.”

  His voice lowered. “Yes. Such a good girl.” His hand clasped hers and he went back to pulling her down the hall. “We’ll take one together.”

  Oh. God. It was on the list.

  The eight feet it took to walk to her tiled bathroom, she talked sternly to herself. This was what she wanted. She was going to do things she wanted. She was going to keep control of the situation and not lose her head.

  Have an attitude, she told herself. He caved when you told him you were done with him. Be Alexa Alessio, in charge of herself and her sexual health.

  At the doorway he checked. One eyebrow winged up as he looked at her. “Did you just mutter something about your ‘sexual health’?”

  Oops. Attitude, she reminded herself. She stuck her nose in the air. “So what? It’s…a…biological need. Something that needs to be…attended.”

  “Oh, we’re going to attend to it, all right.”

  Her belly quivered, but she pretended to be pure savoir faire as she preceded him into the room, her shoulders straight, her hips swaying.

  He caught her by hooking one finger in the back of her halter top and reeling her back. His morning beard scratched her neck. It set loose a wash of goose bumps all over her skin. “Not gonna let you get ahead of me, baby.”

  The subtle threat in the words made her almost jump out of her skin. What the heck did he mean? But she was afraid to ask and settled for scurrying away to pull towels from the nearby linen cupboard.

  The water gushed on in the shower.

  She didn’t turn around, but calculating how little clothes he was wearing, she figured he’d dropped them in the silent ten seconds that followed. The door to the oversized tiled cubicle opened, closed.

  Her stomach jumped. Bing Maddox was naked in her house right now with water streaming over him!

  Fantasy material. Filthy fantasy material.

  She turned slowly, clutching the folds of terry cloth to her chest. Damn. She’d forgotten the enclosure had the obscuring kind of glass.

  “Baby, come on in. The water’s fine.”

  She trembled. Really, was she going to do this? Before, at the compound, she’d been swept into the activity, her lust and his anger fueling the atmosphere, feeding the sexual chemistry. But to so deliberately get bare and wet with Bing…

  She’d never wanted anything more in her life. And silly modesty or her lack of experience wasn’t going to stop her. There was her list and her attitude and… She dropped the towels on the counter and flung off her clothes.

  He opened the door as she reached for it. It didn’t even give her time to haul in a breath. And she needed one, what with seeing that cut body of his, all its lean muscle and hard edges dripping with water.

  Six months ago, her father had come over and installed a new water heater. A big water heater. She was so glad.

  Bing reached out a hand for her. She took it, and took in the way he was looking at her. Shyness threatened, but it couldn’t last, not when he had that intense, focused expression on his face as his eyes wandered from the top of her head to her Paradise-painted toenails and back again. It spoke volumes about how he saw her.

  As desirable. Beautiful.

  “Mine,” he whispered.

  His.

  Alexa’s heart stuttered as his fingers closed over hers and he helped her into the shower. The water was warm, but not too warm, and it rained on her shoulders and flowed in rivulets over her breasts. She looked down to see her nipples were hard, pointing straight at Bing and embarrassment managed to get a hold of her again. One arm folded over her chest.

  He plucked it away. “Too late,” he whispered.

  Oh, God.

  Then his mouth came down on hers and her brain took a short vacation while her body strained into his and her tongue played games with the one invading her mouth. His penis was hard against her belly and she had to break free to haul in a much needed breath. His fingers speared the back of her hair as she pressed her cheek against the hard slab of his pectoral. His heart was thrumming, drumming, reminding her of that night at the compound.

  Her inner walls clenched, desperate for something to fill them. Without thinking, she sank her teeth into his muscle. His fingers bit into her scalp.

  He used them to draw her head away from his chest. There were red marks on his skin.

  Marks from her teeth!

  �
�Sorry,” she said, brushing her thumb over them.

  A sharper pull on her hair caused her to look up. “I’m not.” His eyes were sleepy and the expression on his face was lazy. No, sensual, she thought, shivering. Like his own fantasies were running through his head.

  He reached over her shoulder to the small enclosure cut into the tile. “What’s this?” he asked, holding up a pen-like object.

  “Oh. Um.” Should she confess she was the world’s longest shower-taker? It wasn’t an admirable quality considering drought-ridden California, though if it was warm enough, she’d shut off the water in the middle of the soaping/shampooing process.

  “What is going through your head now?” he asked, a hint of laughter in his voice. “Your nose scrunches up when you’re thinking too hard.”

  She rubbed at the offending object. “I didn’t know that,” she said, trying to sound offended. Instead of thrilled. He knew her well enough to know how she looked when her brain was engaged!

  “Lex?” His hand slid from her hair to her bottom.

  Oh, God.

  He squeezed. Her pulse began throbbing between her legs.

  Oh. My. God.

  “What’s with the pen thing?”

  His fingers stopped squeezing and she could breathe again. But the pulse kept pounding. “I get ideas in the shower.” Because she took such long ones, but she decided against sharing that. “So I write them down with that, you know, on the tile. It cleans up later.”

  “Really?” A slow grin curled up the corners of his mouth to reveal his strong white teeth. “Perfect.”

  “Why?”

  His head dipped so his mouth was at her ear. It was wet and she was wetter and she thought they should get out of this shower before she passed out from lust, hit her head, and had to go to the emergency room. “Bing—”

  “You’re going to write down your list for me, Alexa. All the things you want us to do.”

  Despite the lukewarm water, she flashed hot. “I…uh…”

  Attitude, she reminded herself. Agenda. Adopt one and get on with the other.

  The hand that took the pen trembled. She stepped a little out of his encircling arm to face the wall of tile that didn’t actively get spray from the shower head. Then she wrote three items. Using bullet points.

  She waited for him to respond. When he didn’t, she shuffled her feet a little and finally had to glance at him over her shoulder. “Well?”

  “You write like a second grader trying to win the printing contest.”

  “Which I did, very often,” she said, prim.

  “Such a good girl.” His fingers drew softly down her spine, then drew a horizontal line across the small of her back. “You really want those things?”

  “I want to know how to do two of them. To you. A man, I mean,” she added hastily.

  “Well I sure as hell am not going to say no.” He drew her back under the spray. “I’m going to love being your teacher.” Then his mouth crashed into hers, his tongue diving deep to master the kiss.

  When they came up for air, he took her hand and wrapped it around his erect penis. It was heavy and satin-skinned and was as vital and masculine as the rest of him. She gave it a gentle squeeze.

  “I’m going to teach you how to do it right, baby. Or at least right for me.” His hand closed over hers. “We’re made of strong stuff. You’ve got to be rougher than you think.”

  He directed her, guiding her into tight, deliberate strokes, her palm dragging over him. She watched their joint effort, staring, fascinated, as the plum-shaped head of him emerged over and over from her tight fist. “Twist,” he said, his voice guttural. “Get some soap on your hands and use them both now.”

  Orgasm was closing in on him, she could tell. The fact of it was glorious for her as she continued following his direction. Both hands were soapy while his were now braced on either side of the tile enclosure. She moved in opposite directions, up, then down, remembering to not take it easy on him. Knowing he loved her touch because his head dropped back and he groaned.

  The throbbing between her legs was more insistent now, the flesh there feeling soft and hot and needy and she moaned just looking at the rigid column of flesh that she was caressing—no, working—over and over and over.

  Suddenly Bing had hold of one of her wrists, staying her movement. “You ready for number two?”

  Her gaze shot to her list. Shivering, she nodded her head.

  “Hands on either side of the shower,” he ordered. “You don’t touch me, you don’t touch yourself. Just watch.”

  Her knees went so weak at the command in his voice that she had to brace herself on the tile anyway. He squirted soap from the dispenser into his palm. The he half-turned and planted one palm on the wall above his head. Water sprayed over his half-bent head to run in rivers over his shoulders and his tight ass as he began to jerk his other hand on his cock.

  Jerk. Cock.

  Good girl Alexa curled her nails into the porcelain and tried holding on as he played out her fantasy. Her filthy fantasy.

  As he stroked himself, she realized she was moaning and her hips were twitching, grinding against air. Desperate for sensation.

  Bing’s head turned her way. “You do this to me,” he said, his hand speeding up.

  Lust tightened every muscle in her body. Her nipples hardened to even more painful points. You do this to me. He gave this to her. He let her watch him pleasuring himself—all the way.

  She’d thought he might look vulnerable in the moment of climax, but when his belly muscles contracted and his fist tightened on his cock, it was raw power she witnessed in the bulge of his bicep, in the vein standing out on his forearm, in every long, fascinating spurt of semen. The absolute authority he had over himself awed her.

  Melted her.

  “Come here,” he muttered, when he was through.

  Then she was plastered to him, her back to his front, his penis still half-hard against the small of her back. His mouth moved on her neck. “You like what you saw, baby?”

  “I liked what I saw,” she said, shivering.

  “Cold?”

  “No.” She shivered again, her bottom rubbing against his groin.

  “Mmm.” His palm ran over her breasts, down her belly. “Spread your legs.”

  Then his hand was there, between them, spreading open her labia with the fingers that had brought him to release. He explored her there, toyed, as she resisted going up on her tiptoes to get a stronger touch. “Give me your mouth,” he said, and when his tongue met hers, his fingers pinched her swollen clit and she jolted, writhing into immediate, harsh climax. Attitude and agenda forgotten.

  Afterward, she leaned against the tiled wall as he made short work of washing them both. A smug half smile—nearly a smirk—curved his handsome mouth as he moved her limp, heavy limbs. “You need a nap, babe?”

  “No.”

  “Good.” He pushed her out of the shower to stand on the thick bathmat and wrapped one of the towels around his waist then proceeded to use the other to dry her skin and hair. “Because I have a list of my own.”

  “Things you want to do?”

  “Things I’m going to do to you.”

  She shuddered. “Oh, God.”

  He let the bath sheet he was using to dry her drop to the floor. “But first,” he said, loosening the one around his hips. “It’s time for that requested lesson in Number Three, doll.”

  Oh, God. Alexa burned from the inside out as he pressed against her shoulders. “On your knees.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Bing dumped a six-pack of beer in a cooler in preparation for Garbage Night. In most neighborhoods, the evening the cans were put near the curb for pick-up meant accomplishing the simple chore as quickly, simply as possible. Here in their cul-de-sac, aka Lex-World, it had become an event. An opportunity for the neighbors to come together and…commune he guessed would be the word.

  With the cooler in hand, he opened his front door and paused on his po
rch.

  He usually avoided the whole thing, dragging his garbage to the street in the early morning hours before going to work. But he’d missed her all the damn day, thinking of her sweet body and her crazy, dirty little list and her beautiful eyes on his face as he told her what to do.

  Swirl your tongue.

  Lick right there.

  Take as much as you can. Now more.

  Hell. He had to draw in a deep breath and refocus his attention. A line of ants marched from a bougainvillea bush to a crack in the sidewalk, going over a leaf and around a stick to get to their destination. Persistent little buggers.

  Like Alexa, who he’d tried to put off, but who had reached her goal all the same despite every obstacle he’d thrown up.

  As if he’d really wanted to fight her any longer.

  That sassy side of her had done him in. Turns out you’re just not bad enough for me.

  He figured he’d proven her wrong about that…and if not, he had until the wedding to clear up any misconceptions she might still hold.

  Your appeal was that smell of sin and brimstone.

  It was still his personal fragrance. Nothing had changed about that, no matter that they’d been together again yesterday, breaking the rule.

  Nothing about him had changed at all.

  Lex came into view, exiting the house across the street, a tray in her hands, her mouth moving as she chattered with the neighbor who lived there. His belly tightened, his gaze running over her.

  She looked the same, her hair still shiny, her smile still as sweet as candy, her skin unmarred—or at least what anyone could see of it when she was wearing a pair of jeans cropped at the ankle and a tank top.

  He’d bitten the round apple of one ass cheek. Surely that had left a mark.

  “You all right?”

  Glancing over, he saw his twin strolling his way. An open bottle of beer was caught between two fingers. They’d been on separate jobs that day and he’d not seen him in the office either.

  “I’m fine.” His brother was studying his face with an odd intensity. Bing shoved his free hand in his pocket and wiped any expression from his face. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “You never do this shit.”