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It’s the kind of genuine praise from her that makes me so grateful she’s mine. I keep the pressure on her clit as she startsto ride me, and her soft moans and the way she picks up her pace start to take me to the edge of my orgasm.
“I need you to come all over my cock. Show me how it belongs to you now. How much you need me to take care of this sweet little cunt every morning.”
It’s all the encouragement she needs, and she starts to ride me faster. She leans down to kiss me, and I wrap my hand around her throat. Her eyes open, and I see the fire in them as she starts to ride me harder, gasping as I counter her strokes. There’s a little upturn at the corner of her mouth, and I’m just waiting for her to make a quip about me not being a very good boy. So I tighten my grip instead, stroking one finger down her throat and the other over her clit before I speak.
“I know, Madness. I know. But you come so much harder getting the good girl fucked out of you instead.”
Those words have her breaking on the next wave, and she comes hard, whimpering as I fuck her through it and drag a blinding orgasm from me in the process. We’re both nearly out of breath when she tumbles down next to me onto the pillows. She stretches one bent leg over me and curls up on her side.
“That’ll cost you, you know,” she teases, her fingers tracing over my jaw.
“Worth it.” I smile back at her, and the little grin that appears makes heart swell in my chest.
“True,” she whispers, leaning forward and kissing my cheek before she rests her head against my shoulder. I wrap an arm around her as the sun starts to peek through the windows and we finally start our first day married.
It might be ten years late. But it’s better late than never.
46
Madison
When Quentin opensthe door a few nights later, my father is standing there looking flushed and pissed as fuck. Like he just walked off a plane and climbed the steps up to this apartment. Which he might have done judging by the rage that’s rolling off him.
“What do you want?” Quentin moves to block the door with his body.
“Where is she?”
“Where is who?”
“Don’t be a smartass, you fucking prick. My daughter.”
“You don’t have a daughter anymore. I suggest leaving before you embarrass yourself.”
I feel my heart race in my chest. I can’t believe he’s here. I thought I’d be safe for the season at least. He’d be too busy with the team, too needed in Chicago, and toochronically on the road to even think of making a trip down here. I blocked his and Mom’s numbers proactively and on every social media app I could think of. My stomach somersaults, and I take a step backward in the apartment. It’s a mistake because he spots the movement.
“I suggest you come to this fucking door right now,” my father bellows.
“We have neighbors," Quentin warns.
“Like I give a fuck about this shithole and your neighbors. All this money and you still can’t fucking afford a decent place to live. Still spending it all on booze and drugs?”
“Do not talk to him that way!” I raise my voice just enough to be sure he can hear me.
“Then come to the fucking door.”
“I don’t want to speak to you. We have nothing to say. You had your chance. You picked door number two.”
“Madison fucking Westfield… Get your ungrateful fucking ass to this door.”
“That’s not my name.”
“Don’t be a smartass. You’re too old for that shit.”
“Don’t you fucking talk to my wife that way. You lower your fucking voice, and you talk to her civilly or you won’t talk to her at all.”
“Your wife,” he scoffs. “As delusional as you ever were.”
“No, Dad. That would be you.” I walk up behind Quentin and hold up my hand, the engagement ring and the wedding band flashing in the light.
