Page 112 of Mad As Hell

She smiled at me, and the trust and innocence in her gaze was like a punch to the dick. How the fuck had I gotten this lucky? I sure as shit hadn’t earned it, but I’d hold on to it with everything I had.

I covered my body with hers, capturing her mouth in a searing kiss as her fingers scratched down my abs and fumbled with the button of my jeans. When she worked the front open, her small hand slipped inside and squeezed my cock.

“Fuck,” I hissed, breaking the kiss to drop my forehead onto her shoulder.

She helped push my jeans and boxers out of the way, and then guided me inside her. I slammed into her, bottoming out on the first thrust. We both groaned as her pussy pulsed around me, holding me tight in her wet heat.

I pulled out and drove back in with enough force to move her up an inch on the bed. She wrapped her legs around my waist, pulling me in deeper.

“Harder,” she begged, her nails scouring my back in a way that was sure to leave marks I’d be wearing tomorrow.

Grunting, I changed the angle, knowing I’d hit the right spot when her pussy convulsed and her gaze grew unfocused. I made it my mission to hit that spot as many times as I could before she exploded.

I managed seven more thrusts before her entire body went rigid and then seized, a sharp cry piercing the space between us as she milked me for everything I had. I groaned as lightning zipped down my spine, and I emptied myself inside of her.

Breathing harder than I had after the game, I collapsed onto her chest, my face pressed against my jersey. Her fingers came up to absently stroke my head.

“Thirty-eight to go,” she mumbled. “You really might kill me before the weekend is over.”

I lifted my head to look at her. “Want me to stop?”

Her eyes narrowed in a playful way that had my dick starting to get hard again. She licked her lips. “Never.”

CHAPTER 30

MADDIE

A shudder rolled down my spine as Ryan turned the car into the long driveway leading to the sprawling Cain Estate. My stomach churned as I stared up at the three-story monstrosity with its manicured lawns and marble statues. On the outside, this house was an architectural dream, but I knew the man who owned it was an asshole of the highest order.

Seeing Beckett Cain wasn’t high on the list of activities I wanted to partake in. It fell somewhere between using a stranger’s toothbrush and playing tag with a rabid wolf.

Ryan reached across the console and laced his fingers with mine, giving me a reassuring squeeze. My skin prickled with awareness as I reacted to his touch. Last night had been amazing. Freaking amazing.

We’d gone several rounds, and I’d grabbed only a little bit of sleep throughout the night. I’d woken up this morning with one of Ryan’s hands curled possessively around my breast, the other nestled between my thighs. As soon as he’d realized I was awake, he’d languidly stroked an orgasm out of me with his fingers before rolling me onto my back and impaling me with his hard cock.

By my count he’d knocked ten orgasms off the tally he owed me. It might have been eleven, but I wasn’t entirely sure if that time in the middle of the night when I’d slipped in and out of consciousness, his face buried in my pussy, was actually real or a dream.

But as Ryan parked his car in front of the stairs leading to the house, everything in me shriveled up.

“In and out, baby,” he murmured, looking at the house. His gaze cut to me. “At least Cori will be happy to see you.”

My spirits lifted at the thought of Ryan’s younger sister, Corinne. She was an absolute sweetheart who had a few learning disabilities, giving her this eternal innocence that Beckett was all-too-ready to decimate if Ryan didn’t toe the line.

Make that if Ryan and I didn’t toe the line. If I didn’t marry Ryan and produce a baby so that Ryan could claim some familial inheritance, Beckett had made it clear he wouldn’t lose any sleep marrying off Corinne to some asshole with the sole purpose of knocking her up. She was barely eleven.

I fucking hated that prick.

After giving Ryan a small smile, I let go of his hand and climbed out of the low sports car. It took a little maneuvering to make sure I didn’t flash anyone who might be standing near a window. As I shut the door, a clap of thunder echoed overhead. Gray clouds swirled ominously, and the palm trees lining the driveway swayed. The uncharacteristic Southern California storm left heavy shadows across the grounds of the Cain Estate.

Ryan came around the car and grabbed my hand in his before leading me up the stairs. As he reached for the bell, the door swung open, and the butler greeted us.

“Mr. Cain, Miss Cabot.” He inclined his balding head and stepped back to allow us entry. Once he closed the door, the silence in the large foyer became a living, breathing thing, waiting for whatever was going to happen next.

I glanced around the imposing entrance. A grand, sweeping staircase curved up the right side with gold spindles and a gleaming matching railing. Old and probably pricey artwork that looked hideous to me hung on the white walls, making the space seem more like a museum than a home.

The formal sitting room to the left was closed off behind glass doors, but I could see inside to the pristine white furniture and carpets against a rich dark wood floor. The huge foyer with marble floors extended down a long hallway that I knew from experience led to a kitchen a chef would salivate over.

Everything was so cold and antiseptic. It actually made me miss my tiny little trailer in Michigan. At least that had felt like an actual home.

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