Page 26 of A Method to His Madness

“Can I call you Daddy while he’s watching us?”

The trunk of his sweaty torso twists in the lamplight, his teeth gnashing. The scenario we’re both imagining appeals to Caleb, too. A lot. But he’s focused in on my face, as usual, searching my eyes, making determinations. Counseling me even while I’m riding him. “Keep going, angel. This is healing you.”

I think…he’s right.

There’s something heavy climbing my sternum, bursting free of me in waves. A sense that I was built to be a victim. I’m not one. I’m whatever I choose to be. If I want to be a sex kitten or a witch or celibate, that’s what I’ll do. I decide.

And I decide on him.

I choose to feel the impact of his thrusts, his hips slapping up beneath mine, my sex stretching to take him, my hips angled in a way that allows slippery flesh to graze my swollen clit, sending zings to my hair follicles, fingertips, to say nothing of my gripping core, already poised for another release.

Abandoning myself to the wickedness, I lean down and capture his thickness, squeezing too tight for him to move, clamping until he roars my name, but all I do is smile and lick his sculpted mouth. “I’m going unzip your pants in front of him and show him what a real man looks like.” Still holding his inches hostage, I wiggle my hips and his pupils bleed into his darkened irises, his stomach flexing to iron against mine. “Big and sturdy. Heavy. Balls like a bull.” I lap at his tongue. “The kind of man a woman swallows for.”

My world turns upside down in the wake of those words.

I’m looking down into his fierce eyes one second and the next, I’m face down, ass up with my wrists pinned at the small of my back.

Caleb enters me again with such ferocity, I scream, but the sound is muffled by the mattress, which creaks in time with his drives, his ragged moans loud in the once silent room, that thick appendage finding its home deep inside my body, the power of his invasion lifting my knees off the bed again, again, again, bliss culminating in that pleasure palace just beneath my navel, the intense quickening making me sob and rut my hips back to greet his charges, our smacking flesh loud and crude and glorious.

“Come inside me, Daddy,” I half-scream, half-sob. “Please.”

“You know I will, angel,” he pants, his fingers biting into my wrists. His growl reaching my ears when he says, “You know damn well I’ll get you pregnant and laugh while I send him the announcement.” His hips pump deep and hold, hold, grind until I pop, shuddering, moaning down at the mattress while my body remains inches above the mattress, impaled and trembling through the roller coaster of release, wave after golden wave setting me free, along with his threat. Or promise. Whatever we’ve just engaged in.

And when I collapse face down, struggling to catch my breath, I also encounter a warm, rosy glow, head to toe. All-encompassing contentment. When his fingertips begin a slow stroke of my spine, I turn my head to look at him, finding him gloriously disheveled for the first time. Gazing at me with unabashed reverence.

I’m sure that’s how I’m looking back at him. Like he gave me wings.

Through the most unconventional means possible.

“I’m starting to think there’s a method to your madness,” I whisper.

He plants a kiss beneath my ear, lingering a moment. “Youaremy madness, Ashley.”

CHAPTER 13

Caleb

Ashley isinside of her house, collecting things to spend the night when I get the phone call from Chicago. I’m loath to take my eyes off her silhouette where it moves in the bedroom she’s supposed to share with that bastard, but I locate my phone in the console of my truck, answering with urgency when I see the name.

“What do you have for me?”

A few minutes later, I hang up just in time for Ashley to walk out of the house, her overnight bag in hand. I almost break my neck getting out of the truck to carry it for her, as it should be. I don’t care if she’s only walking twenty yards, I transport her bag in one hand and hold her hand in the other, opening the passenger door and making sure she’s buckled in and cozy before I close it.

This woman is one in a billion.

Her man better damn well act like it.

And after that phone call?

Her man is exactly what I’m going to be. Officially.

You have no idea what’s waiting for you at home, Waylon.

Hint: it ain’t going to be your wife.

As far as I’m concerned, Ashley is alreadymywife. I can’t even glance at her from the driver’s side without my heart slamming against my jugular. She’s a phenomenon. An explosion of characteristics, some of which she’s still discovering herself. She’s tough, brave, funny, beautiful, sweet, mean, a little kinky—

Still got a fire smoldering in my belly after the shit she said to me. Jesus.

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