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Her lips part on a low moan, and I toss my head back, slipping my hand further up her thigh, my pinky climbing and climbing until it brushes something cold.
The button of her jeans.
“Braxton,” I warn, rolling my head to the side to watch her. My palm is between her legs now, cupping her pussy through her jeans.
“Maddox,” she whimpers.
My name has never sounded better. Not fucking once.
“Undo the button for me.” It’s an order, and she takes it as such. She fiddles with the button until it pops and the zipper slides down. “Good girl.”
A soft noise pushes past her lips at the term, and I make note of that reaction as I drag my hand up her mound and over the open flap of her jeans. My fingers brush an elastic band before finding soft lace beneath it.
I curl my fingers in the lace and pull, her following gasp music to my ears when the fabric wedges between her pussy lips.
“I want to see you, Braxton. I want to see how these panties look cutting your pussy in half and how ruined they are when I pull them off because of how wet you made them. The first time I touch you, I need to see you. I’ve been imagining this for too long not to have it all.”
She nods, eyes brimming with desire. “Take me upstairs. Please.”
29
MADDOX
I’mon her the second we step inside the penthouse. I swallow her gasp as I back her up against the wall and kiss those perfect fucking pink lips.
My tongue slips inside her mouth, and I push her legs apart with my knee, stepping between them, fitting our bodies together because I’m too desperate for her to not have every inch of me pressed against every inch of her. Her moan makes my lips tingle before it shakes its way down my body, bringing forward a sound of my own, one far more wild, carnal.
I’m a mess of greedy, desperate touches, but so is she. My hands are in her hair, palming her throat as the pulse batters beneath it, and then on that fucking ass—gripping and squeezing and pulling until another cry fills my mouth.
Braxton claws at my biceps and tugs at my hair, giving just as much as I’m taking. Her fingers are like personal shock devices. Every touch feels like electricity zapping beneath my skin, and I fall into a deeper haze with each sting.
We’ve finally smashing down the wall that has kept us from tearing each other’s clothes off with our teeth and letting go, accepting that this was inevitable from the start.
Now we’re desperate. Out of control. Making up for so much lost time.
“You need to be sure, baby. Fucking positive.” I drag my lips from her lips to her jaw and down to her pulse, giving it a hard suck. “Because once won’t be enough for me. This isn’t a one and done.”
Her whole body shudders. “Yes.”
I shake my head, my beard scraping her skin, turning it red. My chest grows tight at the idea of her wearing my beard burn all over her body.
“Yes what? Need to hear you say it.”
“I’m positive. Not a one and done. Not us,” she whispers.
I nip at her throat, over the blossoming purple mark that beats in time with her heartbeat, and dig my fingers into her thighs before lifting and wrapping them around my hips.
She releases a surprised noise, and her thighs grip me tight. Those sparkling blue eyes fill with uncertainty as I lead us further into the dark penthouse, her in my arms where she fucking belongs.
“What’s that look for?” I ask softly, brushing my nose along hers.
“You don’t have to carry me. I can walk.”
“In every single one of my dreams, this is how I’m bringing you into my bedroom for the first time. Let me make it a reality.”
She rolls her swollen lips before wetting them with her tongue. My underwear grows sticky as I leak precum like a loose tap.
“In your dreams, I’m probably not this heavy.” She says it so timidly I barely catch it. But I do. And my frown is instant.
