Page 41 of The Question of Us
I turned to look at him. “Never better.”
He smiled and let go of my cock to slap my arse. “Good. Now, turn over.”
I blinked.
He slapped me again. “You heard.”
I bit back a smile. “Ohhh, are we getting to the rules part? ’Cos I really, really want to get to the rules part.”
“Turn the fuck over, idiot,” he said in a measured reply, his eyes a cool green in the bright light of the room. “And then don’t move a muscle.”
A bolt of lust shot up my cock at his tone and I immediately rolled onto my stomach, my body jonesing in anticipation. Two years of grief and regret and walking in place. Two years of going nowhere; of facing the same questions every damn day; the same aching pain. Two years of feeling emotionally flayed. And then this. The sudden relief of having to do nothing except what this man said. And not just any man. Madigan. Guided toward pleasure while feeling safe in his kind, capable hands.
It was breath-takingly perfect.
He spread my legs and kneeled between them, his fingers trailing a feather-soft line from my shoulders all the way down my spine to my crease. But he didn’t stop there, his fingertips brushing over my hole, teasing, promising, electrifying as they continued to the back of my balls, dialling the sexy right the fuck up. Unable to stop myself, I humped the mattress—an act of disobedience that earned me another slap on the arse.
“Bastard,” I grumbled, but I stopped humping.
“Child,” he returned, pressing his lips to the small of my back, before grabbing me by the hips and lifting me up onto my knees. I had barely enough time to register what was happening before he spread me wide and his hot, wet tongue ran behind my balls and over my hole.
“Oh... oh... shit,” I cried out, slamming my fist onto the mattress as he did it again. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
He pulled off. “You want me to stop?”
I didn’t need to see his face to know he was grinning, the motherfucker. I looked over my shoulder. “Don’t you dare.”
He gave a smug smile. “Then turn around.”
I did, shoving my face into the pillow to muffle my cries. Mads chuckled and reached for the lube beside my head. “Gonnaget you good and slick,” he promised, shoving a fistful of the stuff where the sun don’t shine before proceeding to own my arse in the best possible way.
He licked and nipped and tongued until I couldn’t think straight, over and over until the tight muscle began to loosen. At that point, he added a finger to the mix, still licking as he fucked me in and out, in and out. Then a second finger joined the first, two knuckles deep, stretching me wide, curling to shoot stars behind my eyes and a crackle of electricity through my groin.
And through it all, that clever tongue never stopped, weaving in and around, slick and hot. Driving me wild with the need to be filled until I couldn’t feel anything except Madigan Church in and around me, owning my body like it had been inevitable since that first meeting. Like I’d been waiting on nothing but time to be his. Waiting on this moment.
Mads breathed hot against my ear, his body folded over my back, his fingers still in my arse, fucking me senseless. “Do you want to come like this?”
Unable to form words, I shook my head.
He kissed my shoulder and pulled his fingers free. “Roll onto your back.”
I did as he said while he reached for his briefs and wiped his hand. Next thing I knew, he had my legs splayed wide and was shoving another mountain of lube up my arse.
“You got shares in the company?” I asked.
He grinned. “It’s been a while, right?”
I was nodding before I realised it, my brain firing sluggishly with regard to anything that wasn’t Madigan fucking me every way possible. Fingers, tongue, cock—I really wasn’t picky.
When he finally deemed me slick enough, Mads pushed my legs up and guided my hands under my thighs. “Hold them up, baby. Nice and high.”
I snorted at the endearment and he shot me a look, his cock poised at the entrance to my hole, nudging gently but no more. “You don’t want me calling you that, then just tell me.”
I wanted to say,No, I don’t. Only Davis had ever called me that and not very often. Cutesy names hadn’t been our thing... ever. Instead, what came out of my mouth was, “It’s fine. I like it.” And no one was more surprised at the truth of that than me.
Because right there in our bed, cradled in Mads’ arms, wrapped in his tender attention, my body expertly played toward pleasure and release, my heart with nowhere to hide, I’d never felt more vulnerable in my life. Vulnerable and one hundred percent safe. So yeah,baby, was just fucking fine.
Mads leaned down and pressed the sweetest kiss to my lips. “It’s good to give up the reins and let yourself be cared for sometimes, Nick. We all need it. There’s strength in that too. You’re safe with me. You’llalwaysbe safe with me. Let me in.” His green eyes pierced right into my brain.
