Madman’s Cure: Madman Duet Book Two

by Mason, V. F.

  Cassandra

  The heavy rain starts to pour harder, slapping the roof. The waves crash against the rocks as the storm matches the inferno burning inside me and washes away everything in its wake.

  Gasping into Eudard’s mouth, I wrap my arms around his neck, and he asks with steel lacing his tone as his muscles against me go rigid, “Do you want this?”

  Want this?

  I need this even if everything inside me screams that it’s wrong on so many levels. But somehow in this moment of sorrow and discovered truths, he is the only stable thing in my life. I crave him desperately, to save me from the fire brewing in my veins.

  What’s the harm in one more night with him before I have to let him go forever? “Yes,” I reply.

  With a groan, he connects our mouths again, his hand gripping my waist before he pushes us back, making me stumble a little. His arms are there to steady me, and we end up in the pouring rain that instantly soaks our clothes, but we pay no attention to that.

  Instead, we continue to kiss like our lives depend on it, our tongues gliding against each other and fighting for dominance, deepening it with each stroke.

  Placing my hands on his chest, I grab his shirt, hating the offensive clothes keeping me away from his body that I desperately long to touch. I moan in protest against his mouth.

  My body craves his like an aphrodisiac, yearning for his muscles to press against my bare skin and feel his heart beating in his chest.

  Only in these moments with him, I know I’m alive. This connection has become my curse, yet I can’t imagine denying it now, despite the disastrous consequences it might bring.

  I gulp for breath, the droplets of water sliding into my mouth when he steps back, his green orbs heated with desire. I snatch his shirt from him then drop it on the floor. Now I have all his tanned yet scarred skin to admire.

  Without thinking, I lean closer, sliding my tongue from his collarbone to his neck, nipping on the skin and inhaling his masculine scent before traveling up to the underside of his chin. I finally reach his lips again, all while he stays rigid against me, only his jaw ticking—an indication of his emotion for me.

  Licking my lips, I enjoy the taste of rain mixed with his unique flavor and want to dive for another scorching kiss, but he doesn't let me.

  Instead, he spins me around and pulls me against his chest. His hard-on digs into my ass, and a groan escapes me as desire rapidly spreads through my body—just like the waves echoing in the distance.

  Breathing heavily, I close my eyes and rest my head on his shoulder while his hot breath fans my cheek. His lips whisper in my ear, “My beautiful phoenix.” His splayed palm rests on my stomach for a brief moment before it moves lower and lower, leaving goose bumps on the way. “Do you think you can live without this?” he asks, fisting the hem of my dress and hiking the wet material up, exposing my lacy panties. He cups my core, earning himself a moan as the heel of his palm presses against my clit. “You belong to me. No matter where you go or what you do, this body will forever be mine.” His fingers shift the lace to the side, his middle one slipping between my wet heat, rubbing up and down my skin but not digging into me. “Look how wet you are for your monster.”

  My heart stops when he utters this word. He doesn’t allow me to escape from our reality, even in this moment.

  Like he wants to cement the fact that this sinner will be forever trapped with the madman, even if she wants to create an illusion of a fairy tale that doesn't exist.

  His harsh breath fills my ear. His words stab me with their intensity while his finger drives me mad. My body displays my internal battle; I want to push away from him but at the same time scream for him to continue this torture if it means my satisfaction at the end of it. “You are mine and only mine. You never belonged to anyone else.” His finger finally slides inside me, pushing deep, and he catches my cry with his mouth. The passionate yet agonizingly slow kiss heats my blood with each stroke of his tongue and dip of his finger.

  I am living, breathing desire in his arms; my one purpose is to seek the pleasure only this man can provide me.

  Slowly, I sway my hips forward, rubbing against his finger, needing more friction to achieve what my body craves, but he doesn't let me go there.

  His hand disappears, leaving me empty, and I protest against his mouth, but he swallows it, continuing our leisurely kiss that has the power to drive me insane.

  He lets go of me so abruptly, I blink in surprise. I move the strands of wet hair from my face, and then I’m dragged back under the roof, shivering slightly from the wind but more from instinct.

  The fire in my blood from his nearness warms me from head to toe, sending prickles of lust all over me in anticipation of his next move.

  His hands are back on me, sliding the zipper of my dress down my spine, but instead of sending it to my feet, he grabs the edges of it. With his husky voice that shows me he is affected as much by this as I am, he orders, “Lift your arms.” I do as he says, and he removes the dress from me. I almost groan from the fabric touching my aroused nipples as it passes over my body to join his shirt.

  I’m about to cover myself with my arms—the scene reminding me of our time together when he stripped me from the ballroom dress—but his growl stops me. “Don’t.” Then he is next to me again, fanning my cheek with his breath. His lips land on my nape then shift lower to my shoulder blades where there are still traces of nasty scars from the attack. “Everyone will pay for what they have done to you, my beautiful girl,” he whispers, and even though there is fury coating his voice, I detect pain there too that hurts my heart and brings tears to my eyes. “Their deaths will be my gift to you.” Another kiss, this time to the scar in the middle of my spine. His palms rub the puckered skin tenderly, letting me bask in his attention and not hide my past from him.

  In this moment, we are together as we should have been our whole lives—if the evil people hadn’t interfered.

  Shaking my head from the remorse slowly creeping over me and holding back the tears that have no place in my goodbye to him, I murmur, “Please.” I almost hate his attention, because he transforms the sex, the meeting of flesh, into the emotion of lovemaking from which I can’t escape or hide.

  Or deny the truth, run away from realities that forever shatter us and strip our happy ending from us.

  “But no matter what they did—” He continues to trail his tongue over my skin, biting my ass cheek, his voice loud despite the whisper in the otherwise silent space. “—they didn't tarnish you or own you. You are and always will be only mine.” A sob slips past my lips, because his words along with the rain seem to wash away all those awful things the founding five have done to me—like his touch has the power to soothe even the greatest of agonies.

  And in a way, it can. If only it could have saved us from him, maybe our lives would have been different.

  Eudard leaves small kisses as he moves, nipping on the backs of my knees before his hands end up on my hips and tug me lower. I follow, landing on my knees while he presses himself against me once again. “How did I get my nickname, Arianna?” He uses my real name, and my heart pangs painfully in my chest, while the past and present merge, bringing us together in this moment.

  He sucks on my neck, for sure leaving his imprint on me, but instead of caring about it, I raise my hand, lacing my fingers in his hair, and hold him in place, needing him as close as possible to me.

  “How did I get my nickname, Arianna?” he asks again, this time harsher. A bite on my shoulder follows, making me snap my eyes open to see the storm going wild over the ocean, the deep blue beauty swaying so hard that no one has a chance of surviving in it.

  Just like our passion that has the power to destroy everyone, even ourselves if we let it.

  “I don’t remember,” I whisper, lost in the effect his lips and hands on my stomach have on me, needing him to do something with me before I explode from his voice alone.

  I tug on his head and move mine to the
side to meet his lips, wanting to kiss him. My hand grabs his palm, pushing it lower to my aching core, desperate for any part of him entering me and soothing this all-consuming desire to possess him.

  Eudard chuckles into my ear, sucking on the lobe before he says, “I don’t think so, my phoenix.” And then he turns me around before pushing me onto my back gently. I lie on the patio floor, gazing at him as he hovers over me. His fingers fumble with the belt. The buckle hits the wood loudly before he unzips and removes his jeans, leaving him next to me with his cock ready to give me what I want.

  I moan, opening my legs and bending them, sliding my hands down my stomach. I beg, “Yes, please.” He is finally ready to end this torture, giving us what we both crave.

  Instead though, he plants a hand on either side of my head, his eyes drilling into mine. With his mouth inches away, he once again repeats his question. “How did I get my nickname?” He leans forward, scooping a rain drop from my chin before nipping me slightly. His mouth travels to the underside of my chin and then my neck then bites my collarbone. “Think, Arianna.”

  “Why does it matter?” I whine, trying to close my legs over his hips and drag him closer to me so his hard-on will be close to me. But his hand stops me, gripping my leg and moving it back in place.

  My growl of frustration only earns me his laugh. “You won’t get what you want until you answer me.” Then his lips wrap around my nipple, sucking it into his mouth, and I arch my back, moaning loudly when my fingers once again tangle in his hair, pressing him closer to me while building pleasure spreads through me.

  He moves to the other one, repeating his action while rubbing his cock over my panty-covered entrance, teasing me with his length and repeating, “Think,” before he licks around the nipple, trapping it in his mouth. And then the heat follows. Open-mouth kisses to my flesh, which intensify the fire inside me, the desperate need to be fucked from all his actions.

  Is he insane? How does he expect me to think under the current circumstances?

  I can barely breathe.

  He shifts lower; his lips travel over my stomach, dipping his tongue inside my belly button and tickling my skin, and then his hot breath is right above my core when he asks, “Do you remember now?” He settles between my thighs while anticipation is so strong it physically feels like my skin is on fire and only he can cool it. But the frustrating man won’t give it to me.

  “No,” I snap, and he chuckles, kissing the inside of one thigh, rubbing his scratchy cheek over my skin, sending tingling through me before he repeats the action with the other one, his fingers digging in the underside of my knee, to the sensitive spot only he knows about.

  “Think.”

  I groan, so wet from him yet not finding any relief, just teased to no end as I wrack my mind for the information he seeks from me.

  His nickname, wasn't it given to him by his coach after a particularly good game where our team won for the first time?

  Then it’s like a light flashes in my head, and I find my voice, croaking, “When you want something, you go after it like a madman,” I say, almost sighing in relief, because it means this torture is over.

  But when our eyes meet, mine pleading and his heated, he shakes his head. “When I want anything that has to do with you or for you… I go after it like a madman.” And that’s all the warning I get before he places his mouth on my pussy, giving it a kiss, and my ass hikes up. His hands are there to hold me firmly in place while his tongue delves inside, going deeper and deeper. I cry out, fisting his hair and grinding on his face while he laps at my skin, giving me pleasure that makes the outside world cease to exist for me.

  In this moment, our past and future don't matter, because this connection is the only thing grounding me in this world.

  “Eudard, please.” I call his name, not satisfied enough with this, and he presses his thumb against my clit, rubbing it with his thumb while pushing his tongue inside. The combination of the two almost sends me flying, and I arch my back, welcoming the wave of pleasure wanting to take me away, when he removes his tongue, licking my pussy lightly before traveling up and nipping my clit. “No, please,” I whimper, but he isn’t budging.

  “What do you crave, my phoenix?” He starts with the freaking questions again, but at this point, I lose patience.

  “You,” I say, grabbing his hair and pulling him toward me so he’s splayed above me, his muscles pushing me deeper into the wood—not that I care about that.

  His pressure is everything, especially the tip of his cock that glides over my opening but doesn't go inside like I need. “And who am I?” he asks above me, rolling his hips forward. I groan at the tip of his cock sliding in just a little bit, but then he rolls back, denying me the pleasure.

  “Eudard. My Eudard.” Because isn't that the only thing that matters in this world?

  It’s always been him, and I can’t ever imagine being with anyone else, because my body and heart forever belong to him just like he said.

  My love has cursed me to a life of loneliness where the princess doesn't get her prince but instead watches him from afar as he transforms into a villain who wants to keep her in his tower without giving her a fairy-tale ending.

  All thoughts fly away though when he hikes my leg over his hip and then enters me with one swift move, driving himself so deep a cry escapes me. Then his mouth is on mine, drinking from me and connecting us from head to toe.

  I can’t take a single breath without feeling him against me, and isn’t that the greatest pleasure of all? To be so united with the person that you don't want anything else but for him to forever stay there, hoping the problem dividing you won’t disturb this moment that belongs only to the two of you?

  For a second, he doesn't move, just plants himself inside me, and I arch against him, gasping against his lips when he pulls out only to slam back inside again, sliding me a little on the flooring, but I feel no pain.

  Our desire is wrapped around us like a protective cocoon. “You are mine. Never forget that. You can have any name, any face,” he whispers, breathing in my scent while he thrusts agonizingly slowly yet deeply. “But the soul and heart living inside you belong to me, no matter where you go.” Steel laces his words, but I pay no attention to them.

  Because if I do, I’ll have to acknowledge what’s going on, and I won’t be able to hide behind this desire, this one last time that allows me to feel like the most precious prize he possesses.

  I’ll have to face the fact that he is a ruthless killer with no redeeming qualities, who lied to me.

  So instead, I palm his head and give him another kiss, moaning into it when he slams harder. I wrap my legs tighter around him, seeking the frenzy he is going to give me.

  Gradually, his pace increases, driving into me harder and harder while heat surrounds me. Pleasure consumes me from being stretched around his cock; I never want him to leave me.

  Sliding my hands to his back, I dig my nails in while my body buzzes, getting closer and closer to the bliss that wraps around me and finally claims me.

  I cry out and clamp around him, squeezing him so hard he groans above me but still continues his jerky thrusts, prolonging the inevitable. All I can do is lie beneath him, breathing heavily while he grips me harder then groans and spills inside me.

  Instead of lifting off me like I expect, he rolls to the side and drags me with him, placing me on his chest while we both try to catch our breath. His heart beats wildly against my ear.

  Nature’s storm changes to light rain while the waves continue to crash against each other, alerting me to the fact that our storm might have passed, but it’s still left destruction in its wake.

  Exhaling a raspy breath, I wipe away the tear sliding down my cheek and bask in the silence that stretches around us—both of us afraid to break it.

  Or maybe there is simply nothing left to say.

  Chapter Seven

  “My greatest love.

  You shine so brightly.

  I could
bask in your light forever.

  Oh, how I wish to stay here with you.

  But I can’t.

  As the gates of hell await my presence.”

  Eudard

  Eudard, 6 years old

  The silver gates open wide and Ken, our bodyguard, ducks his head to wave at me, but I barely send him a glance. The car drives inside the gates, on the narrow path leading to our three-level house, while my uncle’s hot breath touches my cheek as he leans closer to me, his hand on my thigh.

  “I’ll miss you, Eudard,” he whispers and tightens his hold on me, probably barely controlling himself from not kissing me. His driver is as bad as him and won’t care what he does. He must not really want to show my dad what he is capable of. “But you’ll be back to me soon,” he continues, sliding his hand up and down while I only concentrate on the count in my head, chanting different words and wondering how I can rhyme them into poems.

  This is my only salvation in the dark when he is around, the only way to survive his touch on me, his….

  Shaking my head, I rhyme the word sun in my head when he leans to me and kisses me on my cheek, his hands sliding up to my stomach where he splays it, digging his fingers into me. “You are my greatest gift. My sister did well with you.”

  Fun, bun, nun.

  “Remember to ask your dad to spend all your school vacations at my place.” Then he straightens up, sending a glare to Liam, who sits opposite us in the limo, tapping his foot on the floor while looking at us with a completely blank expression, his hands clasped together so tightly his knuckles have turned white.

  That’s the only indication of emotion he ever gives in his father’s presence.

  Otherwise, he stays dead silent, even when he hits him with the belt till his back bleeds and then gives him to his friends to play with.

  He doesn’t touch him like that ever. I’m not even sure he is his son though, because he never calls him that unless he orders me to call my father and reassure him everything is fine.

  After that day three months ago, that nightmare repeated every night with him dressing me up, digging his belts or chains into me. Sometimes he would even hit me, but not much. Generally, he just praised my beauty and claimed that no one like me existed in this world.