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If I thought he was big before, that was nothing compared to what it is now, rock hard, and my insides recoil at the thought of that thing inside me.
Maddox must see the look on my face because he leans into my ear and says, “Don’t worry. We’ll take it slow.”
That was the right thing to say, as my scorching body goes flush with his.
He moves away and takes a condom out of his pocket and tears the wrapper open with his teeth before slowly rolling it on. I watch in awe, swallowing hard at the thought of all of him inside me.
He coaxes me back down on the bed before he lies on top of me, the sensation of his naked body over mine making me feel electric. We’re chest to chest. His body presses heavily against mine, and I feel every inch of him moving between my legs. The heat radiating off his skin makes me only want him closer, inside me, and I can’t keep myself from shaking as his lips work their way up my neck and onto my mouth. His intensity is dizzying but deliberate.
Maddox pumps his hips ever so slightly, running himself through my folds and sending waves of pleasure through my body that are more intense than I’ve ever felt. His hands are everywhere, exploring my curves and angles, igniting my senses until I’m spinning out of control. His lips meet mine with a feverish hunger and when he enters me, he moves inch by deliberate inch.
I gasp and stop him, as I haven’t been this filled before, and it’s overwhelming my senses. He holds himself in that position, pulling away slightly, working in again. When he’s fully inside, volts of electricity shoot through me.
“God, you feel so good.” Maddox’s voice has lost all control.
It’s all-consuming, and my core aches for more as I guide him in deeper. We move together in perfect rhythm, slow at first, then faster, each thrust only making me want it harder.
The intensity is palpable as my body quakes beneath his and he slows back down.
I pull him in again, my nails biting into his back, and with each pump. I feel like I’m being taken higher and higher, the pressure building and swelling inside me. I can feel him pulsing, and I know he’s close.
He pulls my knees upward as he crashes into me, which allows him in, deeper, harder, as I cry out his name in unbridled ecstasy.
Together, we peak, and we’re trembling as we come apart, crashing down together with the force of the Titanic.
And I’m done for. Wrecked.
17
The Break In
Last night was amazing.Amazing. We slept little, as we did things to each other, over and over. And, well…over yet again. Now, I’m bleary-eyed but powered by strong coffee and euphoria as Maddox and I step to the castle’s counter to check out, Mac says, “Riley, there’s a lad who needs to speak to you. He says it’s an emergency. Do you have some time to spare?”
But I don’t know anyone here in Whistleburg. “Are you sure he’s looking for me?”
“Riley Glenn, the granddaughter of Winifred Glenn?” Mac asks.
“Yup. That’s me.” I think about saying no because we can’t miss our flight, but then I remember we’re on a private jet. The take-off time might be flexible.
I look at Maddox, and he says, “Yeah, we can spare an hour or so. If it’s important.”
Mac nods. “It’s Duncan Kelly; he’s a lawyer. If he says it’s an emergency, he ain’t kidding.”
Why would a lawyer in Scotland need to speak to me? This has to be related to the “More to come” Grams mentioned. Andthat key she left me? Maybe we’ll get to know what it’s for before we leave!
“Sure, then.” I nod, excitement bubbling through me. “Can we call someone to drive us?”
“You can, but that’d be me.” Mac holds up his keyring, which has so many keys it looks like a work of modern art. “So let’s get going, now.”
Mac loads our luggage in the tiny trunk of his matchbox car, and we leave with him, hoping this old guy isn’t off his rocker. But, hey, adventures, right?
He drives this tiny clunker around the gravel-road corners like it’s on rails, something thatno oneshould do, but especially not an octogenarian. Luckily, it’s a short drive.
Once we’re in downtown Whistleburg, Mac rolls into a no-parking zone.
“Hey, Mac,” Maddox says, “I don’t think you can park here.”
Mac bats a hand. “I know the hen who writes the tickets. Ah, hell, I helped her when she got her tire stuck on her wedding day. I’m the reason she got to the church on time. Trust me, she won’t be ticketing me anytime soon.”
