I suck her earlobe into my mouth and gently tug on it with my teeth. “Tell me who you belong to, Max.” I stroke my hand in a circular motion between her legs. “Who does this belong to?”
“Only you.” Her voice is barely audible.
“That’s right. And I want what’s mine. Right now.”
I release her hair and move my hands to the button and zipper on her shorts, yanking them open. “I’m going to have your pussy as often as I want. And you’ll come every time I do.”
“Please. That’s what I want. What I need.” That’s what a man wants to hear. That’s what I need to hear.
I push her shorts and panties down her legs. “Take off your shirt and bra and then turn around. I want to see every inch of you.”
Full, perky tits. A narrow waist. Hips with curve. An ass with volume in it, one I can grip without worry I’ll break her delicate bony body in half.
Stunning.
I pick up a strand of her hair and twirl it around my finger. “You’re fucking gorgeous.”
“Lots of guys don’t like the pale skin and red hair.”
“All dumb fuckers.” So fucking stupid.
She is sexy.
She is confident.
She is mine.
I grasp her hips and steer her so she’s facing the bed. “Get on your stomach, Max.”
No turning back now. And I don’t want to. I plan on having every part of Adelyn Maxwell, including her heart.
Adelyn Maxwell
I climb onto the bed, facedown, and wait for Oliver’s next move. Next command. I’m excited to see how this plays out. How he reacts to being given the power to control me. Handle me with a firm grip. Fuck me with force.
My clit aches just thinking about it.
Chords of electric guitars resonate in the room and I immediately recognize “Turn the Page” by Metallica. Classic heavy metal. Screaming guitars. Drums. Slow tempo but nothing sweet or romantic about this music. I love this rendition.
It’s loud enough no one would ever hear my screams. And we’re going to fuck to it.
Oliver’s hands grasp each of my ankles and push my legs apart so they’re in a wide V. Can you say spread-eagle?
The bed dips between my legs with his weight before he crawls over my back. Skin on skin. I love the feel of his warm body against mine.
He grips my wrists, pushes them over my head, and allows his body weight to press against me. “You want this? To be fucked from behind while I hold you down? Movement restricted?”
He can’t imagine how much I want that very thing. “Yesss.”
“I’ll do it. But I’m going to make you orgasm first.”
“Please.” I want to come so bad. Need it.
He releases my wrists and kisses my shoulder. “I think I should use my mouth to make you come.”
My clit clenches. I’m dying for him to lick me the way he did two weeks ago. I want it fucking now. “Yes, Thorn. I want you to so badly.”
Oliver glides a finger through my folds. “So. Fucking. Wet.” It’s a fair statement to say I’m a little eager.
He fingers me from behind, grazing my clit, but it’s that bundle of nerves just inside my opening screaming for his attention.
“Get on your knees. Head down.” Don’t have to tell me twice.
I don’t need to hear the words to know what’s coming. But he says them anyway. “I’m going to eat your sweet pussy like this.” Yes, please, and thank you.
All those warm fuzzy tingles swirl in my lower abdomen. I call them orgasmic precursors. My body’s way of getting ready to receive whatever Oliver is about to give.
He kisses a path over my lower back and the tingles spin faster as he inches down. My head mimics the same motion. And maybe that’s why I question the high-pitched ding I hear over Metallica’s screaming guitars.
He stills. That’s when I know the sound caught his attention too. “Hear that?”
I’d love to tell him no. I want to say it was nothing, and he should go back to what he was doing. Because it isn’t possible I’m this close to having his mouth on me after two weeks only to be interrupted.
The bell rings again. And again. And again. Total. Mood. Killer. “Who the fuck is showing up at my house after ten on a Sunday night?”
I look over my shoulder at him. “I really, really, really don’t want you to stop what you’re doing but whoever that is ringing the bell sounds determined to get you to the door.”
“Motherfucker.” Oliver gets up and pulls on his jeans. No underwear. No shirt. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
I roll to my back, reach for a pillow and tuck it under my head. “I’ll be right here waiting.”
“Breath” by Breaking Benjamin comes on next. And then “Wish You Were Here” by Pink Floyd.
At least the music is good. But I didn’t come here for a concert.
When “Wish You Were Here” ends, I start to worry. Who has come to see him this late? Is something wrong?
I get up and slip on his T-shirt before going down the hall so I can hear what’s going on downstairs. A woman’s voice. Not Lawrence’s. That much I can tell. And it sounds like Oliver is arguing with her.
The floor creaks loudly beneath my weight and then a second time when I lift my foot. Fuck. It’s a dead giveaway I’m out of bed and eavesdropping.
“Max?” Yup. Busted.
“Yeah. Just checking to see if everything is okay.”
“Not exactly.”
He doesn’t sound panicked. “Should I come down?”
“Yes, please come the fuck down so you can get the hell out of Oliver’s house,” the woman yells.
Whoa.
“Hey. Don’t do that.” Oliver’s voice is sharp. A warning. “Come down, Max.”
I stop at the base of the stairs and peek around the wall to survey the scene before proceeding. Damn. It’s Drunk Lacey from the restaurant.
“Who the fuck are you?” Her voice is a slur.
She was trashed the last time I saw her. I’m not shocked she doesn’t remember me from the day she interrupted Oliver and me at the restaurant. “Adelyn.”
Her eyes start at my naked thighs and move up my body. “No. I mean who the fuck are you to Oliver, standing there almost naked?”
I want to say I’m the woman he was about to fuck until you came along and interrupted. But I don’t.
She’s staring me down with dilated pupils. Angry, looking like she might jump me at any minute.
That’s okay. Bring it, sister. I will stomp your drunk ass into the floor.
I give Oliver the maybe-you-should-answer-that-one look.
“Adelyn and I are seeing each other.”
“You mean fucking each other.” Well, we were trying.
I widen my eyes and shrug. “What now?”
Oliver grasps Lacey’s arms and guides her to the couch. “You. Sit.”
“And you, come with me.” Oliver grasps my hand and leads me to the kitchen. He pulls out a barstool. “Park it.”
I tuck his T-shirt under my butt before I sit. Doesn’t feel right to put my bare ass on one of his chairs.
He swivels me to face him and parts my legs so he can stand between them. He grips my outer thighs. “Listen. I want you to know I haven’t been fucking around with her.”
We aren’t a couple. Oliver owes me nothing. “Okay. We weren’t a thing—”
“But I haven’t and I don’t want to.” He leans in so we’re eye to eye. “I. Want. You.”
And I want him. Relief floods me as I hear his words. He wants me. “So what do we do about her?”
“I’m going to put her in a cab and send her home. As soon as she’s gone, you and I are going back to my bed and picking up where my mouth left off.”
I lean in and nip his bottom lip. “I like that idea a lot.”
“Me too.” He slides his hands up my legs and groans when he discovers I’m without panties. “I swear I’d fuck you right here and now if she weren
’t in the next room.”
I’m tempted to tell him to do it anyway. I doubt she’d remember tomorrow. “Come on. Let’s get her out of here so we can continue our exploration.”
“All for that, baby.”
I hop off the barstool and follow Oliver into the living room. “Motherfucker. She’s passed out.”
Oh, great. “Well, what are you going to do about that?”
“I’m getting her ass out of my house.” He goes over to her and shakes her arm. “Lacey. Lacey. Get up. You can’t stay here.”
She doesn’t budge. Not even a little. It’s obvious she’s not moving off that couch before morning.
Oliver sighs and utters, “Fuck me,” beneath his breath. I would love to.
“Would it be a dick move if I asked you to go upstairs with me and pretend she isn’t down here?”
I look at the blonde cock-block stretched out on the sofa. “You could ask, but honestly, being in the same house with a woman you used to fuck is a turnoff.”
“Fair enough.”
“We’re gonna need to give this a try some other time.”
“Can you come over after work tomorrow night?”
It’s a no-go. “Probably not. I have an event tomorrow night. It’s small but I don’t think I’ll be done until late.”
“Tuesday night then?”
Another no-go. “My parents will be here. They aren’t leaving until Saturday so the whole week is a bust.” And then your surprise birthday party is that night.
“I’m tied up Saturday. Some band is performing at Iron City and Lawrence insists we see them. Maybe we can score another ticket so you can go with us.”
Sorry, Thorn. I’ll already be at Iron City making sure everything is lined up for your party. “I’m sure I’ll be exhausted from my parents’ visit. Five days will be enough to kill me. I should probably plan on hanging out to relax at my place.”
“That means we have to wait until next Sunday. That’s a fucking week. Explain to me how I’m supposed to wait that long to have you.”
I love hearing him say he’s dying to have me. Makes me feel confident about going into this. Again. “I don’t know. You just do.”
“There’s no way I won’t lose my mind this week. You’ll be so close yet so far away.”
Next Sunday does seem like a long time from now. “I’m certain you’ll find a way to survive until next weekend.”
“Maybe you should sneak out of the house and come over after your parents go to sleep.”
I haven’t done that since I was a kid. “Like I’m thirteen?”
“No. Like you’re twenty-seven and horny.”
“Well, I am both of those things.”
Oliver looks over at Lacey. “I swear I could choke the fuck out of her.”
“Are you sure about that?”
Oliver cups his hand around the side of my neck and uses his hold to pull me in for a quick kiss. “Smart ass.”
“You walked right into that one, Thorn.”
“Sure did.”
“It’s getting late. I’m heading home.” Drunk Lacey has ruined this night for me. The longer I look at her, the more I want to throat punch her.
He slips his hands under the T-shirt I’m wearing and palms my bare ass cheeks. “Going home like this?”
“I was going to run upstairs and get my clothes. But yeah, I was planning to wear your shirt home.”
“Will you at least leave your panties?”
“Why? Do you plan to wear them?”
“No. I plan to sniff them while I jerk off every night.”
Holy shit.
I get to think about that all week.
“Yeah. Keep the panties.”
Oliver Thorn
I haven’t done the meet the parents thing since Eden. I forgot how nerve-wracking this can be. And the pressure is doubled, no quadrupled, when the woman you want to date has a preacher for a father. A Southern Baptist preacher, no less. They’re a different kind of animal.
“Oliver, Addie tells us you’re from Savannah.” Neutral conversation. No hellfire and brimstone. That works for me.
“Yes, sir. Lived there ’til I left for college in Alabama. I return for the weekend every three or four months since my parents still live there.”
I can tell by Mrs. Maxwell’s that-is-so-nice-of-a-son smile she likes my answer. “You must be close to your parents if you see them so often although you live hours apart.”
“We’re very close. They come here to visit my sister and me in between our trips to Savannah so I see them every couple of months.” I can tell she likes that answer too. Maybe my beer-brewing career and tattoos haven’t turned her against me completely.
“I wish we could see our Addie more often but it’s such a long drive. Michael’s bad back keeps us from being able to ride in the car for long periods.”
I can’t imagine not seeing Mom and Dad whenever I like. “I’m lucky my parents enjoy being on the road. They travel all the time. It’s nothing for them to decide the night before they’re going to take off and go somewhere for the weekend.” I’ve always loved that adventurous side of Mom and Dad. It made for a fun childhood.
“It’s hard for us to get away; we have many responsibilities at the church and with our congregation. Just like with this trip. We have to leave early Saturday morning so we can be back for church on Sunday.” The thoughts I’m having are wrong, especially while I’m sitting here across from her God-fearing parents, but I wish they were leaving a day earlier. I’m eager to get my night of sexual exploration with Adelyn.
“My parents were able to retire early so nothing holds them down. They travel the world. Globetrotters. That’s what my sister and I call them.”
“They’re probably making up for the early years of their marriage when they were taking care of little ones.” I see Adelyn hasn’t mentioned me being adopted. But I don’t guess there would be a reason for that.
“No, ma’am. They didn’t adopt us until they were in their mid thirties. They’d already traveled all over the world by the time we came into the picture.”
“Oh. I guess they stopped traveling after they adopted you and your sister.” Most people would think that but they’d be wrong.
“Only long enough for Lawry and me to adjust to them being our new parents. It wasn’t long before we were going everywhere with them; adapting wasn’t hard to do once we figured out they weren’t going to beat or starve us.”
I still remember the first time I slept in my own bed in my own room. It was the first time in my life I ever felt truly safe. The first time I ever felt loved by someone besides my sister.
“You were taken away from your birth parents?”
“Yes, sir. I was six and my sister was ten.”
“Praise God you were plucked from that and placed in your adoptive parents’ lives.”
I’ve always been grateful we were taken from Jimmy and Christie but I’ve spent a lot of years being bitter about how long it took. I’m still not in a good place when it comes to the whys. “We were badly abused. I’ve struggled with how God could leave us in that kind of environment for so many years.” We were innocent little kids. We didn’t deserve that.
“The Lord works on His schedule, Oliver. Not ours. The Bible tells us there is a time for everything and a season for every activity under the heavens.”
I can’t tell you how many times my parents have referred to that scripture. “Ecclesiastes 3:1.”
“Yes, that’s it.” Brother Maxwell doesn’t do a great job of hiding his surprise. Neither does Adelyn. “You know the scripture?”
Adelyn and I have never discussed my faith. She probably assumes I’m a heathen with no kind of religious teaching. “I grew up in church. Mom and Dad made sure Lawry and I were there every time the doors opened. I got out of the routine when I went to college. Haven’t really been back since except maybe on Christmas and Easter when I go home to see my parents.”
Adelyn’s mom turns
to look at her daughter. “Addie. You’ve not invited Oliver to attend church with you?” Oh, shit. They think Adelyn goes to church.
I guess my little heathen needs saving. “She’s invited me several times. I’ve been resistant but she’s determined to get me there so I’m thinking of going.” Damn. I just lied to a preacher and his wife about going to church. That’s gotta be bad.
Adelyn’s wearing a you sly fox expression. “Then you’ll go with me this Sunday?”
“Yeah.”
I’m not sure Mrs. Maxwell could smile bigger if she tried. “That’s wonderful.”
Adelyn pushes away from the table. “Time for dessert. Want to give me a hand in the kitchen, Oliver?”
“Sure.”
Mrs. Maxwell pushes away from the table. “I can help you with that, honey.”
“Not necessary, Mom. Oliver is very handy in the kitchen.” Adelyn leaves the dining room, not giving her mother time to argue.
I wait until we’re in the kitchen to argue. “I’m not really sure I’m all that handy in the kitchen.”
She puts her finger on her lips. “Shh.”
Adelyn grabs my hand and leads me into the walk-in pantry. She pulls the door closed slowly. Silently. “You saved my ass.” Her voice is barely more than a whisper. “Thank you.”
“No problem.” I probably saved my own ass as well. I’m sure the next step for Brother Maxwell would have been to talk to me about getting back into church.
Adelyn reaches for the button of my jeans and yanks it open before lowering the pull tab of my zipper. “I want to suck you off.”
Oh.
Fuck.
I want that too, but damn. Her parents are in the next room. “Max. Your mom and dad are right . . .” My voice is so soft the last word doesn’t come out.
Damn. They think I’m going to church with their daughter. Not going into the pantry with her to get my dick sucked.
“Shh.” She pushes my jeans apart and puts her hand inside my boxer briefs. “See? You want me to. You’re already hard.”
Stout Page 13
