Page 77 of The Love You Win

“Maddox,” I whine. “Please.”

“So needy.” His eyes twinkle as his face transforms with a devastating smile. “Are you ready for my cock, Isla? Are you ready for me to stretch your tight little pussy and fill you up?”

My stomach hollows out, and I arch my back at his words. I can’t help it. My body simply reacts. Never have I wanted someone as badly as I want Maddox Graves. “Yes. God, yes. Fuck me, Maddox.”

My clit thrums with pleasure as he bumps the head of his dick against it, rubbing his sheathed length through the wetness of my folds so he can easily slide inside of me. Then he stills and meets my gaze.

“Please.”

That’s all it takes. One strangled plea, and then he’s pressing the head of his cock into me. So slowly, it might as well be torture. Maddox fills me up an inch at a time. He stills as my eyes flutter and roll back into my head. He’s so much bigger than anyone I’ve had sex with before, and while it’s not painful, my body needs a moment to adjust to him.

“Are you okay? I’m not hurting you, am I?”

“No,” I say with a shake of my head. “More.”

Maddox gives me what I ask, and presses in another inch, and then another. I’m panting by the time he’s fully sheathed within me. He presses his forehead to mine, still as he lets me adjust. “God, Isla. You feel like heaven.”

I need him to move. To fuck me. “Please,” I say again. My brain is short-circuiting. All other words seem to be lost to me. “Maddox, please fuck me.”

He lets out a masculine groan that goes straight to my clit, and then he moves. He slowly slides himself part way out, and when he pushes back in, he rolls his hips, which rubs his pubic bone over my clit. Encouraged by my cries and mewls, he does it again and again. All the while, his rich, brown eyes hold mine and he kisses me senseless.

It’s so much more than I thought it would be. This isn’t just fucking. It’s not just scratching an itch. Maddox Graves is making love to me. This big, sometimes gruff man stares into my eyes like I’m precious and tells me exactly how he feels with every slow roll and thrust of his hips.

The realization has me spiraling with pleasure. My fingers drag down Maddox’s broad back and I wrap my legs around his ass, urging him deeper. Urging him to take me faster. Harder.

“So beautiful,” he says before kissing the juncture of my neck and shoulders. “So pretty, filled with my cock.”

This man. The combination of his tender looks and touches and his filthy, filthy words has pressure building low in my belly.

“Are you close, sweetheart?”

I can only nod. My body tingles and clenches. I’m so close.

“Good. Such a good girl. My good girl.” He picks up the pace, thrusting harder and faster, eliciting a gasp from me. “Now come for me, Isla. Come all over my dick. I want you to scream my name.”

And god help me, I do. Every muscle in my body tightens before releasing in a wave of euphoria. I scream Maddox’s name as my pussy spasms around his hard length. He fucks me through it, and as my orgasm reaches its peak, he stills over me, his face twisting with pleasure. The low, raspy groan as he comes prolongs my climax. Maddox works me through it, his softening cock thrusting lazily inside of me a few more times before he stops and wraps me in his arms. When he pulls out, I whimper.

“Shh, baby. I’ve got you.” He flops down onto his back, dragging my sweaty, naked body into his, and holds me. “I’ve got you.”

He’s warm. So warm. His arms are strong, and I feel safe as he holds me. Protected.

I’ve never felt this way during sex. Or after. I’m overwhelmed as he whispers sweet nothings into my ear and traces patterns over my back.

And as my mind slowly comes back online, I have the unwelcome thought that if this is how I feel after our first time having sex, how much more intense will things be after a few weeks, or a few months? Sex never felt like this in all my years with Alex, and he still broke me in the end.

How much more will I shatter if things with Maddox end badly?

thirty-five

MADDOX

Putting a label on our relationship and making it official shouldn’t be a big deal. Not much changes in the grand scheme of things. Not really. But the pure satisfaction I feel as I guide Isla into Griffin’s crowded backyard with my arm confidently wrapped around her waist can’t be denied.

“Hey, you made it!” Griffin throws his arms out in a gesture of welcome. He’s got a metal spatula in one hand, a beer in the other, and he’s wearing an apron that says Eat My Meat. Because of course he is.

“I told you we were coming,” I reply.

“Dude, you’re like twenty minutes late.”

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