by Erin Noelle
“I was married before,” she states bluntly, breaking the silence several minutes later.
The revelation catches me completely off-guard, and a thousand questions fly into my head, but I don’t ask any of them. I vow to let her do this at her pace.
“I was young and naïve. He spoiled and pampered my seventeen-year-old mind, treated me like a princ—” She shakes her head, not finishing the word. “He tricked me into believing he was someone he wasn’t, and by the time I figured it out, I was in too deep.”
I drag my fingertips lightly up and down her bony arms while she talks, comforting her and encouraging her despite the countless emotions pumping through me—rage, confusion, powerlessness, jealousy.
“He’s the reason I have the flashbacks, and even though he’s gone, they just won’t leave. I can’t escape them. Sometimes, the smallest thing triggers them; sometimes, I just have them in my sleep. I never know when it’s going to happen. It’s one of the main reasons I don’t like to go out in public or engage in social situations.”
I continue to caress her arm and nuzzle my face in the side of her neck, the warm water rippling around our bodies in response to my movements. She doesn’t offer any more information, and I’m unsure if I should ask any questions. I decide not to ask about him directly, but about her healing. “Have you sought out professional help?”
A bitter laugh rumbles in the back of her throat. “The best psychiatrists in the country can’t fix me, other than to drug me to the point I’m a zombie.”
“Have you found anything that helps?”
“You,” she says in a hushed whisper, pressing her backside more snugly up against me.
My heart flutters at her response. “How so?” I breathe into her ear.
“I don’t know. I know it sounds stupid, but when I’m with you, I don’t think about the past much; I just think about being me…me with you.”
“About being us,” I reply before gently nipping at the delicate skin directly under her ear—I’m pretty sure that’s my favorite part of her body.
A small moan falls from her lips as she leans her head back onto my shoulder. My cock twitches against her soft ass; I had no plans of making this sexual, but with her making those noises and feeling her naked body flush against mine, I can’t help my natural physical response.
“Take me to bed, Madden,” she pleads. “Make me forget. Set me free again.”
She doesn’t have to ask me twice.
The next morning, I wake up to my sweet girl naked and snuggled up against me for the first time in three nights, and it makes me happy. Completely fucking happy. Fuck Leighton. Fuck Emerson. Fuck Blake’s ex-husband. And fuck anyone else who has a problem with us. We’ve both made shitty decisions in the past, and we’ve both been screwed over by people who supposedly loved us, but all that matters to me is right here, right now. Her. Me. Us.
I’m surprised after how many times I came last night that my dick is even awake this morning, but the first time she stirs, wiggling her bare bottom against me, he’s hard and ready to go again. Dipping my hips slightly to line the tip up with her sweet pussy, I rub the head up and down from her clit to her tight opening several times before sliding into her slowly.
She doesn’t open her eyes, but I know she’s awake by the way she’s arching her back, pressing into my measured strokes. I use one hand to grasp onto her hipbone, while the other is tangled in her highlighted tresses. I’d love to see her with her naturally dark hair again, like she has in the photo hidden in my desk, but since she doesn’t know I’ve seen it, I really can’t say anything.
A soft purr seeps from her, and my focus snaps back to the task at hand. Gradually, I increase the tempo of each thrust until we’re both right at the edge, which doesn’t take either of us long. Slipping my hand off her hip and over to her lower stomach, I spread my fingers and press down, causing her hips to tilt at just the perfect angle for my shaft to rub against the top of her inner wall.
“Come with me, Blake,” I growl hoarsely. Her tiny hands grab hold of the sheets, and she balls the thin fabric into her fists as we explode together, calling out each other’s names—perfection every time.
Afterwards, we both lay there quietly as our bodies come down from the rapturous high until she rolls over to face me with an impish grin. “Good morning,” she says with a sleepy yawn, “that was a nice way to wake up.”
I lean forward and kiss the tip of her nose. “The best, sweet girl, but we need to get up, shower, and eat, because we’re going to Magic Mountain today.”
“Magic Mountain?” she asks, crinkling her nose up in the cutest way. “What’s that?”
“A theme park with lots of roller coasters and greasy food, where we can act like crazy kids with no responsibilities.” I pinch her butt cheek, causing her to squeal. “Now get up, buttercup. I want to be there when it opens.”
Climbing out from underneath the covers with a goofy smile plastered on her face, she jumps on the bed a couple of times before hopping down to the floor and skipping into the bathroom. “I’ll be ready in thirty minutes.”
I grab my clothes from the closet and am just about to go down to the guest bathroom to shower, when my phone rings. Groaning, I pick it up off the nightstand and see it’s Easton. Of-fucking-course.
“What’s wrong now?” I answer bitterly.
“Good morning to you too, dear brother, and why do you assume something’s wrong?” he asks.
“Why else would you be calling me at eight-thirty on a Saturday morning, Easton?”
He grows silent, confirming the truth in my statement. “What do you need?” I ask again.
“I owe the Kabinovs three hundred large, and they’ve given me two weeks to get it together.”
Three hundred thousand dollars?!? Is he fucking kidding me?
Furious at his irresponsibility and disregard for others, I decide I’m done—for good this time. “I don’t know who the hell the Kabinovs are, but sorry, bro; I can’t do it. You’re gonna have to find another way this time.”
“What do you mean you can’t do it? You’ve got the money…loan it to me and I’ll pay you back. I swear.”
Squeezing my eyes shut, I shake my head at what I have to do. “I’m really sorry, Easton, but no. It’s time for you to learn the hard way to clean up your own messes.”
I hang up the phone and walk to the shower, determined not to let him ruin this weekend with Blake.
SUNDAY MORNING, I WAKE up to aching muscles and sore feet from Madden and my full day at Magic Mountain. It was everything he promised and more. We climbed aboard ride after ride, dropping, twisting, looping, and swerving at intense speeds until I was sure my stomach was permanently lodged in my throat. My cheeks cramped from smiling so hard and for so long. We ate pizza, popcorn, pretzels, and I even tried my first funnel cake. Who knew how delicious fried dough arranged in a bird’s nest formation topped with powdered sugar and caramel sauce could be?!
It was like our day of fun at the Santa Monica pier multiplied by a thousand; our comfort level around each other was unsurpassed, which allowed us to let loose and act like fun-loving teenagers. Not once did I worry about someone following me or watching me, and it felt so good to let that go and focus on having a great time. I already can’t wait to go back.
Today, however, is the nerve-racking meet-the-parents day. I’m so not prepared for this, and the only reason I’ve managed to not go completely neurotic over it is by pushing it to the back of mind, forcing myself not to worry about it until…well…until today. I’m nervous about them thinking I’m not enough for their son—not old enough, not wealthy enough, not pretty enough, and overall, just not good enough—because, quite honestly, sometimes I wonder myself if I’m enough for Madden. I know he doesn’t care about my lack of social status and he thinks I’m pretty, even though I feel like my exterior is still a bit of a fraud, but I worry about what other people think of our age difference and the overall package I offer to him.
<
br /> “A penny for your thoughts,” Madden’s smooth timbre interrupts the mini internal panic attack I’m having over breakfast.
My head snaps up from the table I’ve been staring at for who knows how long, and his understanding eyes meet mine. “Please stop worrying,” he pleads.
“I can’t help it,” I whine. “What time are we leaving again?”
“We’ll leave here about noon.” I glance over at the clock on the oven, noting I’ve still got a little over an hour to fret over the situation.
“I’ve got an idea of something to take your mind off of it until it’s time to go,” he teases, waggling his eyebrows and rubbing his foot up and down my leg under the table.
I throw my napkin at him, trying to stifle my giggles. “You’re insatiable, you know that?”
He nods and smiles wickedly. “You make me this way, and I’ve got to get my workouts in somehow, since I’ve only been to the gym like twice since we met.” Leaning back in his chair and laughing, he pats his washboard abs like he has a jiggling beer gut. “My metabolism isn’t anywhere near what it used to be.”
“Oh, hush.” I scoot my chair back and walk over to the sink to rinse off my plate. “I’m going to start getting ready, old man.” Cracking myself up with the nickname, the sound of his chair scraping across the floor alerts me he’s coming to get me, so I take off running up the stairs. Just as my left foot hits the top landing, strong arms scoop me up around the waist and lift me into the air as Madden throws me over his shoulder and marches to his bedroom, with me wiggling and kicking the entire way.
“Old man, huh?” he asks as he playfully tosses me onto the bed. The relentless tickling commences, and it continues until I’m laughing so hard my side hurts. “I’m going to show you just what this old man can do to your young ass.”
“Get off of me, you perv!” I shriek, grabbing hold of a pillow and hitting him with it.
Stealing my idea, he takes hold of the other pillow, and the tickling turns into a full-on pillow fight. We run around the room, jump on the bed, and blast each other with the feathery weapons until we both collapse in a heap of uncontrollable laughter on top of the sheets.
Once we eventually settle down, I crawl on top of him, straddling his waist, and lean down to kiss him softly. “I really have to get ready now, but I’ll be happy to let you show me what you can do to my young ass later tonight.” His mouth makes this half-moan/ half-growl sound, which vibrates directly between my legs. Drawing his bottom lip in-between my teeth, I suck on it gently as I lightly grind myself on his taut stomach.
“Blake,” he cautions, “don’t tease me with something I can’t have right now.”
I hastily hop off of him and the bed, and saunter seductively towards the bathroom, knowing he’s watching the sway of my ass. Before I disappear behind the door, I peer over my shoulder at him and say, “I’m sorry, Sir. I’ll give you your birthday present tonight.”
“Stop fidgeting,” Madden says as he places his hand on top of mine.
I calm my fiddling fingers and look over at him in the driver’s seat with a sigh. “How do you expect me to not be anxious? It’s terrifying enough to meet your parents, but I have to do it in a bathing suit surrounded by a bunch of other family and friends I don’t know,” I protest.
“Everyone will be wearing a swimsuit, Blake,” he pulls his gaze from the road and sweeps his eyes over my body with a hungry smile, “but none of them will look as stunning as you.”
I roll my eyes and fix my line of sight forward. Underneath my cobalt blue floor-length sundress is a solid black bikini, which Madden insisted I wear, even though I only wanted to bring it with me just in case people were swimming. I’ve been silently praying for rain since I found out this celebration was a swimming party, but as I gaze out the windshield, it’s evident with the clear blue sky my prayers have gone unanswered. At least my scars are almost completely faded.
He lifts my hands to his mouth, kissing each one softly. “We’re almost there. Stay by my side and I’ll introduce you to everyone. I promise they will all be very nice.”
A few minutes later, we pull up to a beautiful home that looks like a larger version of Madden’s with its sand-colored stucco, burnt orange clay roofing, and immaculate landscaping. There are five or six other cars parked in the driveway and in front of the house, which I assume are people here for the party. We both get out of the car, and he immediately grabs hold of my hand and leads me around the side of the house directly into the backyard. The minute we step into the secluded oasis, a woman—who is no doubt Madden’s mom—makes a beeline towards us.
“Madden, you’re here,” she calls out as she strides towards us. Her blonde hair is styled in an elegant French twist, and her sparkling eyes are the exact shade of blue as her son’s. Dressed similarly to me, she’s wearing a long, printed sundress with bathing suit straps exposed around her neck.
“Hello, Mom,” he greets her with a warm embrace. As they part, he introduces me. “I’d like you to meet my girlfriend, Blake,” he says, resting his hand at the small of my back. The combination of him using the word girlfriend and the physical contact helps calm my racing pulse a tiny bit.
I smile politely and extend my hand out to her. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Decker. Thank you so much for inviting me to your home.”
She glances down at my hand and then back up at my face; then, taking a step towards me with a huge grin, she engulfs me in a hug. Startled by the movement, I gasp lightly before returning the gesture. I hear Madden chuckle lightly at my response.
After releasing me, she takes a step back with her face still lit up and says, “It’s wonderful to finally meet you, Blake. Our Madden speaks so highly of you; his father and I’ve been looking forward to this, but he didn’t tell us how gorgeous you are.” Taking my hand in hers, she tugs lightly. “Come with me. I want to introduce you to everyone.”
Overwhelmed by her gracious welcome, I allow her to drag me away, my nerves appeased a little bit more. I gaze over my shoulder at him with wide eyes, and he simply shrugs with a sheepish grin. I’m going to kill him later.
Nearly an hour later, I’ve met almost everyone at the party, including Mr. Decker, as his mom has led me around the backyard, while name after name has been thrown at me as I attempted to catalog each one with the image of the person. I’ve become quite good with remembering faces over the past couple of years, and by the end of the tour of introductions, I’ve added over twenty new ones to memory. Much like Mrs. Decker, who insists I call her Mallory, mostly everyone is extremely nice, making me feel comfortable and at ease. There are a few fake smiles here and there, primarily from the younger females, but nothing too concerning.
The entire time, I could feel Madden’s eyes on me—I assume ready to come and rescue me if necessary—but by the time I make it back to his side, I’m quite proud of myself. As soon as I’m within an arm’s length of him, he reaches out and grasps my waist in his strong hand, pulling me in snug to his side. With no qualms about public displays of affection, he bends down and presses his lips to mine in a forceful kiss.
“I missed you,” he moans into my mouth. “You weren’t supposed to leave my side.”
I playfully slap his chest, laughing softly. “You didn’t do much to save me when your mom kidnapped me.”
“She didn’t kidnap you, sweet girl; I knew where you were at every moment. I was here waiting to save you if you needed it,” he confirms, still nipping at my lips.
A loud noise from the other side of the yard catches my attention, so I tear my mouth from his to witness Emerson and Easton’s grand entrance. I still haven’t figured those two out yet. She’s his assistant at the office, and based on what I interrupted the evening I brought Madden dinner, it’s safe to say they have a more-than-professional relationship. They attended the charity gala together, and have now shown up here together, which would lead me to believe they are a couple, but she makes no attempt to hide her dislike for me, an
d I don’t quite understand why.
“The circus has arrived,” Madden grumbles lowly. I whirl around to ask him about their specific affiliation, but Emerson’s shrill voice pierces the air before I get a chance.
“There’s the birthday boy,” she yells out as she leaves Easton’s side and rushes over to where Madden and I stand, nearly pushing me out of the way to throw her arms around his neck.
Without being overtly rude, Madden peels her arms off of him and forces a small tight-lipped smile. “Emerson, it’s nice to see you too. Thank you for ensuring my brother made it.”
I turn my head towards Easton, who shoots his older brother a disparaging look, and then veers off in a different direction to talk with some other people. I’m not sure what is going on, but the tension between the two siblings is obvious, and I make a mental note to ask Madden about it later. Thankfully, one of the other young women calls out for Emerson’s attention, and she flits across the grass to greet her.
Mallory announces the food is ready shortly thereafter, and I follow Madden’s lead to the buffet table that’s been set up under the covered patio. We both load up our plates with the delicious-smelling food and find a place to sit with several others. Conversation flows easily around the table, and I find myself having an excellent time. It’s the first time I’ve seen Madden in a social setting around his friends; typically, outside of work, the two of us are alone when we’re together. His charm and congeniality are always on display as everyone around him obviously enjoys his light-hearted banter and easygoing attitude.