Page 80 of Finding Fate

She grabs my dick and pulls it out when she can’t get my jeans any lower on account of my position—legs spread shoulder width apart—already stroking it how I like it. My nuts are aching from not finishing earlier. Her head lifts off the bed and her eyes are on mine. “Maddox.”

I lean in, my lips pressing against the side of her neck. Her head falls instantly, as if it’s limp, giving me all the access I want. She loves to have her neck kissed. “What, baby? Is this what you want?”

“Mmm.”

I unbutton her jeans and pull over the front two flaps enough to get my hand inside, and then lay my palm over her mound, already rubbing between her lips seconds later. “What about this?”

Her pelvic thrust gives me her answer. My mouth is watering over how wet she is. She spreads wider when two of my fingertips graze over her pussy to wet them, just before I slip them inside. Her pumps on my dick get faster and needier as I finger fuck her, going in at an angle to hit her g-spot. “Shit,” she whispers. “You always did it just right.”

I smile against her neck as her pelvis rises to chase my hand, wanting more, always needing more. I love that greedy little pussy. I want to eat it so bad right now, but she’s filling my ear with too much fucking goodness to quit. My chest tightens and my bicep constricts, breathing heavily against her flesh. This time, when I press all the way in with curved fingers, I massage the tips against her soft g-spot without letting up. Her hand opens and my dick falls against my groin. She gets louder in my ear trying to keep her voice down and her body comes alive. “That’s it, baby. Come on my fingers. Coat ‘em good. I’m starving.”

“Oh fuck.” Her lips are gyrating against my skin. “Kiss me.”

We start going at it, and just as our tongues enter into a heated entanglement, everything tightens around my fingers and I feel it coat me. That creamy warmth that tastes so damn good and hooked me years ago. I groan into her mouth; so hard and ready to go.

I pull out when her orgasm is over, pulling my two fingers apart and watching that perfect consistency as they separate, mesmerized at the fact that I can play her body so well. I know every part and how it works. I’ve practiced with it. The final sound never disappoints.

She smiles up at me with a crooked grin. “You always did like the prize. You gonna play with your food or eat it?”

I grunt, my body reacting to the way she plays into the side of me I’ve always been ashamed of—the filthiest parts of me. I was raised that sex has a place inside a marriage. It served to procreate. Mouths should stay away from genitals and assholes should remain untouched. And lust shouldn’t be in the heart. Regardless of how hard I’ve always tried to push my dirty desires out of my mind, they linger, causing the shame and the guilt to stick around. Because of her, I finally accept that I am the way I am and sharing those desires with one person doesn’t sentence you to an eternity of pain.

I shove my fingers in my mouth and suck them clean, studying the way her mouth falls open as I draw them back out. “How do I taste?”

I smirk at her. “You’ve been eating more fruit, haven’t you?”

She laughs. “Mayyyybe. You should have never given me that kind of ammo when I went through that pineapple juice phase. You know I’m competitive. Always trying to make it sweeter.”

“Do you know what people would say if they knew I craved your cum?”

“Probably the same thing they would say if they knew I ate and avoided certain foods to alter the PH in my body to change the taste of my bodily fluid?” She rubs her thumb over my wet bottom lip. “Either way, we’re insane. Guess it’s a good thing we’re lifers and never have to share our secrets with anyone else. I don’t mind reaping the benefit of your strange addiction either.”

I laugh. “Whatever I can do to keep my supply coming.” I push up and jerk her jeans off, then shove mine down and step out, before grabbing her ankle and flipping her to her front. She turns her head when I come over her, the flickering mischief in her eyes already screaming loud and clear, knowing exactly where this is going. Grabbing her hip, I pull, making sure her weight is on her other hip bone and not her stomach. “Keep my baby off the bed.”

Where I figured would be an eye roll is a smile. “Pretty sure it’s microscopic.”

“You have organs in there. Do as I say or we’re going back to boring sex in bed,” I tease, just to gauge her reaction. I like letting her inflate my ego by fishing for compliments. Not my problem she hasn’t figured it out yet.

“Slow forms of gyrating and controlled penetrating while love making, maybe, but boring has never described any form of sex with you.”

I grin at her, my dick already prodding her pussy. I thrust inside, barging through her tight muscle, and the second I grip the back of her thigh and shove her knee toward her I go harder. “Better not start now then.”

Forty-Six

Adonis

Igrab the whiskey off my desk and pour more than customary, not even capping the bottle back before grabbing the tumbler and throwing it back, trying to talk myself out of looking at it. It only happens during weak moments—moments I’m more like my mother—and with my daughter gone, I’m pretty low. She’s always been my balance, making it easier to be alone. As the smooth liquid coats my throat I don’t even register a burn, but more a relief.

Even when she was pissy and hiding from me, she was still here, under my nose. I could go to where she was anytime I wanted. I could keep her safe while giving her the distance she wanted; the bitterness sheneededto have with me to get through it. I let it all happen.

All I ever wanted was the best for her, but what parent doesn’t? I don’t like her being this far away. I’ve always been harder on her than normal to make her strong, and I succeeded, because she’s stronger than me in ways, and just as stubborn. One of these days I’ll tell her how proud she makes me, despite what she thinks.

Against my better judgement, I reach under my desk and let my fingers coil around the smooth, distinct surface that differs from the rest, then rip the two sides of the Velcro apart, pulling the frame I keep hidden there to where I can see the front—my ex-wife and I the day we met.

She’s my ex-wife in my heart, at least. In a more literal sense, it’s a different story. Every time I had papers served to her known residence she was already gone again. She’s a runner, and I have no idea why, considering her bloodline. Well known Politicians all throughout. Image means everything. Her father is still a contact of mine. We’re still legally married, but I’ve always kept that from Gabrielle. I could hunt her down pretty easily if I wanted to, but something in my guy has always told me to leave it alone, because as long as she’s married to me, she can’t marry anyone else, and I think a part of that makes me feel like she’s getting what she deserves.

I stare at the photo. I’d just graduated from business school and was checking out some job leads in Cincinnati. It had just started raining pretty hard, and we both ran out of adjoining buildings at the same exact time to the cab parked at the curb. I’d assumed it was the cab I called ten minutes prior instead of trying to hail one. She thought she just got lucky. Neither of us were paying attention to the other and crashed reaching for the handle to the back door. She went tumbling backward in her expensive heels and classy clothes, but I steadied her before she went down. Blonde locks covered her face. We ended up just sharing the cab. Mary-Elizabeth Chanel Holland.

I smirk, remembering the day. She called me an asshole like it was my fault, ready to tear my head off until our eyes locked. It was an instant attraction I’d never experienced. I asked her out for drinks as an apology and it turned into dinner and a night cap before I finally saw her home—a penthouse in a wealthy part of the city that I could easily see cost a fortune. I couldn’t get her golden eyes out of my mind. They were somewhere on the spectrum between green and brown, leaving the result a shade that looked like neither.

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