The Fall of the Red Queen (Self Made Men...Southern Style Book 3)

by Lexxi Callahan

  A lot.

  Because there was no trace of the ruthless, scary predator they called the Red Queen. No, the girl taking over wasn’t a thing like she should be. Way too much vulnerability. Way too many things, fragile things, that shouldn’t be there.

  “Babe, we can stop.” Those words were a promise. He just wasn’t sure how he’d keep it.

  The smile that broke across her face was like unexpected sunshine on a dreary day, and any chance he’d ever had burned away. “Don’t you dare.” Her fingers pressed against his face. “Please.”

  He moved carefully inside her. Her breath hitched, and pleasure spiked behind her eyes. She was with him.

  “Are you begging me?” He moved slightly, almost losing it as her head fell back, silky hair teasing across his arm and very real moans escaping her throat. “You’re begging me.”

  She nodded, unable to deny it. “I’m begging you.”

  She straightened, eyes black with determined hunger.

  Oh yeah, she was with him. “Do it again. Beg.”

  “Please, Jared,” she said in the deepest, huskiest, sexiest voice he’d ever heard. She was teasing, but her words still slid over him like lava, melting everything he’d ever known about himself. He steadied her against him, slammed one foot hard against the floor for leverage, and decided to find out how black her eyes could turn.

  He moved inside her, wondering if he’d ever felt anything so perfect. So sharp, and beautiful, and he was so lost…but he didn’t care anymore.

  “Am I hurting you?” he groaned against her skin. He had to be sure, because nothing made any sense anymore.

  “A little,” she admitted. Her mouth was on him then. Sweet open-mouthed kisses that he knew were laced with poison because it was streaming all through him, and he didn’t think he’d ever get enough of it. “You’re so big.”

  He looked up, his bullshit meter going off like crazy even as he flipped her to her back because he couldn’t move the way he wanted. He searched her expression one more time for any hint of dishonesty or games or the usual things Madlyn was guilty of. There was nothing. Just black heat and desire and a cheeky smile playing on her lips that threatened to blow the top of his head off.

  “Please, Jared.”

  The super sweet voice taunted him in the worst way. But he didn’t care. He sort of loved it.

  “Please.”

  And that wasn’t a bad thing.

  He drove that sexy little smile away and replaced it with a desperate need neither was prepared for. Her legs tightened around him, and he moved harder and deeper in slow, deliberate movements that rippled through him like electricity. He reached down, caught her hips, and angled her so she’d get the full effect of his apadravya. He’d never been so grateful for that piercing until he saw the look on her face.

  “Good? Bad?”

  “Very, very bad,” she assured him between sharp breaths. “Don’t stop.”

  “So I can keep that bling?”

  “Yes, please,” she groaned, and nodded, her eyes closed so tightly he wasn’t sure she even knew where she was. Well, he’d show her exactly where she was.

  “Breathe,” he warned her, moving again, ruthless in his attempt to drive away the pain rooted so deep inside her he wasn’t sure it would ever all be gone. She was full of demons, and Jared was determined to exorcise every single one of them.

  Because the woman lying beneath him, her creamy skin covered in a fine shimmer of sweat, long legs wrapping around him, and nails biting into his skin as she started coming apart into jagged pieces of crystalline beauty, she was something he had been searching for his whole life and he hadn’t even known it. He couldn’t have explained it. Didn’t want to believe it. But something deep inside him felt something lost and hidden inside her, and he wanted it in the worst way.

  And he was going to have it.

  Because she wasn’t wrong. She did own him. Every single inch.

  Madlyn held him tight as he convulsed over her. She pressed into the hard, clenching muscles as he went over the edge. The harsh cry escaping him was so sweet and so intense, for a second she almost went with him.

  Almost.

  At the last second, she caught herself back and memorized every harsh line of that gorgeous face, the hard ripple of muscles as they clenched, and the wonder in his eyes as he discovered he was still in the world. She held her breath and waited. Watched those beautiful eyes for the regret that would come any second now. Self-loathing and disgust would soon follow. She waited for it. Needed it. Had to have it so she could remember who she was and that this—this beautiful, perfect moment—could never happen again.

  She wasn’t allowed to feel this good. There was no place in her life for such beauty and the serenity it led to. She reached around herself for her defenses, the coldness that kept her from feeling too much as she did the things that were necessary.

  More panic crested through her when she found nothing. He’d stripped her bare, leaving her raw and exposed.

  And she was being watched.

  She focused slowly on the beautiful man staring down at her. His expression was an adorable mix of sleepy satisfaction and confusion. The wrong emotions. She needed him to get angry. She couldn’t deal with gentleness.

  He shifted his weight, still not losing the connection between them. “Is there anything about you that isn’t a lie?”

  She looked away. He rocked against her, forcing her attention back to him.

  “Tell me one true thing, Madlyn. Just one.”

  She swallowed hard. She had no intentions of doing anything he said. Except that she did. “I will die if I don’t get my son back.”

  He closed his eyes, then rolled them until they were on their sides. Still face to face, still connected and way too intimate. She couldn’t do any of the things she needed to do with him inside her, but she also couldn’t seem to shake him off. Rough hands gently pushed her damp hair out of her face. She wanted to kiss him. Wanted his taste again.

  “That’s what all this has been about?”

  She stared at him. He’d said one thing. She wasn’t giving him any more. Besides, her throat had closed down so hard she couldn’t speak if she wanted to.

  Being with him gave her painful glimpses of options she knew were impossible. Seductively sweet possibilities that were not on her agenda. Happiness wasn’t a goal. She’d been happy once. She didn’t expect to be or want to be ever again. Happiness was also disloyalty to the one man who had loved her beyond all reason. The one truly good person in her life whom she’d never hurt.

  Robert.

  She stared back at the man holding her now, and guilt clawed at her. Jared wasn’t the first man she’d slept with since Robert. But he was the first one who made her feel like she’d cheated.

  “Madlyn.” The gentle voice lashed all over her skin, and this time the tears burned her eyes, and she had to look away or go blind. Lips grazed across hers, and he continued speaking, caressing her trembling mouth and burning her skin like feathers.

  His arms closed around her, pulling her hard against all that warm shelter, and the pieces he’d just broken her into shattered into smaller pieces.

  “Let me up—”

  “Maybe I didn’t make myself clear.” There was an edge to his voice that sparked something inside her. He rolled her to her back, their bodies separating as he moved over her like a shadow.

  All the softness, the gentleness, was replaced by that impregnable determination. He might be a few years younger than her, but the man staring down at her was stronger than she was. Electricity shimmered through her. He was as exposed as she was. This was the real Jared Marshall. The one who played behind the guise of happy-go-lucky playboy musician. He was strong in a way that surprised her. All this time, he’d been amusing himself by letting her think he was easy-going. He’d warned her. He’d told her she didn’t know whom she was dealing with.

  “That’s better,” he rasped, brushing her hair from her face. “Do
you trust me?”

  She did. She scarcely believed it, but she did trust him. She wasn’t sure how or when it had happened. It may have only been seconds, but it felt longer. She swallowed hard. “Yes.”

  He smoothed his palm across her face again. His fingers drifted across her cheek before moving down. His face came closer, and she couldn’t look away. He moved his mouth close to her ear. “Then don’t hold back this time.”

  His knee pushed between her legs, and those teasing fingers turned ruthless as they slid hard inside her without warning. Her body arched, threatening to snap in half. She could hear his voice, but it made no sense. For a second there was nothing, then everything was so bright and so sharp and so intense, she lost herself.

  She hovered high above the world, then her body crashed into something she hadn’t known existed. Like music ripping her to shreds, dazzling itself along her nerve endings, winding tight until it released shards of electricity that embedded him into her deepest systems until there would be no way to remove all the residual traces of him or what had exploded between them.

  It was a kind of death. And she kept right on dying.

  Until he brought her back, sliding on another condom, then working his fully recovered cock deep inside her, turning swollen and tortured flesh inside out.

  “You need me,” he groaned, kissing her hard. His eyes never left as he thrust hard inside her. “Worse than that, you want me. Don’t you?”

  “Yes.” That admission was another kind of death.

  He caught her face in his hand, his touch so gentle it destroyed her. “Not as much as I want you. You own me, and I own you right back.”

  She nodded as the last of her resistance gave way along with her tendons and bones. She lost all muscle memory and the ability to keep any part of herself together. He held her for a second so she could see the drop, and infinity looked back at her from over the edge.

  She was going to fall. There was no way to stop it. The terror that she’d only felt twice in her life seared through her.

  “No,” she croaked out, trying to hold on to him with desperate fingers that didn’t have the strength to claw into his flesh.

  “I’ve got you,” he whispered, that husky voice soothing across her skin.

  Another beautiful lie. But she had no choice, he was so far inside her, she had no more control over anything. She went over the spectacular fall, not thinking anything other than how beautiful he was. And how his light broke through her like a prism, taking her over, filling every empty space inside her. He followed her, sparking around her. He was the sun, and she had been so cold for so long that she gave herself up to his brilliance and let go of absolutely everything.

  Chapter Nine

  Warm sunlight stroked across her skin and slowly brought her out of the first good dreamless sleep she’d had in years. But with each layer of consciousness, she breached another memory of what had happened last night. She shuddered with various reactions. For a second she lay there, letting the sweetness roll over her. There was an unfamiliar weightlessness to her body. A peace she hadn’t felt in years.

  And she was sore. It had been a while, and she was paying for that now, but she didn’t care. It had been worth it.

  Then she tried to turn on her side and felt the tension holding her arms in place. Her eyes flew open, and she found her wrists were tied to the headboard with one of her favorite red scarves.

  Stunned, she didn’t react at first. She tugged, part of her brain refusing to acknowledge that she couldn’t get free if she wanted to. The scarf held tight. She stared at it, then closed her eyes. She was still dreaming. She pulled again, harder, and the headboard banged against the wall. How had he tied her up without waking her? That’s what she got for sleeping through the night.

  That’s when she noticed the house smelled like bacon, which was impossible since there was no bacon in the house. She twisted her body towards the smell as the bedroom door opened and the devil himself strode in. He was shockingly handsome with short hair. Older, harder and downright delicious. Even better than the plate he was holding. He grinned at her frown.

  He dropped down next to her on the bed. “I made breakfast.”

  She jerked her hands, but the scarf held.

  “Yeah.” He used the side of the fork to cut a corner off a fluffy waffle, then held it out for her. “Sorry about the scarf, but there was no food in the house, and I was worried you’d take off while I went for supplies.”

  Her jaw dropped to remind him it was her house, but he took the opportunity to feed her the waffle and she just never had a chance. The most delicious waffle she’d ever tasted almost made her moan as she chewed it slowly, savoring it. Her eyes closed in pure bliss, and she forgot to be furious at him. And forgot to ask why he’d made waffles for lunch. And where had he gotten a waffle iron because last time she checked she didn’t have one?

  Knowing that she should be plotting his death, she let him feed her another piece. No, she wasn’t imaging things. It was the best waffle she’d ever had.

  He grinned, setting the plate aside, despite her frown, then reached across her to untie the scarf. But he didn’t untie her wrists. They were still tied together. He just helped her sit up. “Better?” he asked, amusement dancing all over his face.

  She didn’t answer, just opened her mouth and smiled when he gave her more waffle.

  “I should be worried, shouldn’t I?”

  “Yes.” She licked her lips and took the piece of bacon with her bound hands and ate it herself. “But lunch is buying you some time.”

  He grinned, and any real anger she felt drained away. He was impossible to be angry at. He was all boyish charm this morning, and the waffles were the second-best thing she’d ever tasted. His cheesecake was the first. He knew it, too.

  One warm brown finger traced the prominent curve of her collarbone, and it occurred to Madlyn that she should have at least noticed she was completely naked.

  The finger trailed down, and she was glad she wasn’t wearing clothes.

  “I haven’t brushed my teeth,” she warned when he leaned in.

  He grinned again, brown eyes dancing. “In that case…”

  He ducked and covered her left nipple with his mouth. Heat rushed through her at the sharp arrow of pleasure-pain. He eased up on the pressure for a second, then closed his teeth around her and tugged. The melting started again, and she couldn’t help leaning back into the pillows. She still wasn’t herself while his mouth wreaked havoc on one breast before moving to the other. She writhed and couldn’t stop the small moans that escaped. But when he started to move over her, she’d had enough. Fantasy time needed to end.

  It was time to get back to the real world. She had just been about to tell him to get off when he kissed her, plunging hard and deep in her mouth. He’d brushed his teeth and tasted clean and minty. She was dazzled again and helpless to stop him when he captured her wrists and retied them to the headboard.

  “Jared,” she warned, trying not to smile at the cocky whatcha gonna do about it grin.

  “I love when you say my name.”

  “Marshall.” She was tired of their game now.

  “Ooh, even better. So authoritative. I hear you’re terrifying in court.”

  Her eyes went wide as he sat back, straddling her waist but careful to keep his weight off of her. The soft denim jeans prickled her skin in all the right ways.

  “Take off your shirt,” she blurted out. The real world was overrated anyway. Just another few hours of fantasy wouldn’t do any more damage than had already been done.

  And he’d given her bacon.

  He smiled, his eyes crinkling with delight. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Slowly.”

  He took his time peeling the faded T-shirt up his stomach. The long, slow reveal of hard stomach and abs that were more defined that she expected made her mouth water. The T-shirt went further, showing the lightest whisper of chest hair over beautiful pectorals she hadn’t gott
en a good look at. He pulled it over his head and exposed those tattoos in the daylight. She pulled against her bonds, aggravated she couldn’t trace all the intricate work that scrolled up his arms, over his shoulders and teased around the hard outlines of his pecs. Her fingers tightened into fists, and he smiled down at her, his eyes all Clint Eastwood as he raked his tongue across his bottom lip.

  “You like my ink.”

  She smiled slowly, determined to torture him since he wouldn’t let her touch him. “Marshall, there is very little I don’t like about looking at you. Except those jeans, maybe.”

  The tattered, faded jeans were the only clothes he had left on. She wasn’t sure how she was still breathing.

  His eyes were slits, and his lips weren’t quite touching either. “Ditto.” His fingers slid across her belly to circle the delicate lines of her navel. “So much smooth, virgin skin…”

  “Hardly,” she choked.

  “Hold that thought,” he said, sliding off the bed. He came back a minute later, a leather backpack hitting the edge of the bed.

  “What are you…”

  “Shh or I’ll get another scarf and gag you. You’ve got quite a collection.”

  He unzipped the backpack and flipped a sharpie in the air. He caught it, then grinned deviously at her. She didn’t like what he had in mind at all.

  “Don’t you…”

  “Shh….”

  “Untie me. This isn’t funny…”

  The cold tip of the marker hit her skin just below her belly button, and her skin danced in response. She raised her head, trying to see what he was doing, but failed. She tried to move, bucking him off. He chuckled and trapped her with his weight, then concentrated on the designs he drew along her belly and up her rib cage.

  “Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he said, leaning to lick at her nipples, which were stinging and stiff. Then the marker worked along the tender underside and traced around her aureole.

  Hot mercury ran through her again as he continued to draw on her skin. She could just make out scrolls and flowers and even a butterfly.

  “What are you doing…?”