by Lux, Vivian
And I couldn't reach out and touch her.
So I played every song for her.
I expected her to smile. I expected her to nod her head in time with the music. Maybe a little shoulder shake or a slight sway.
What I didn't expect her to do was dance.
Maddie moved like she was possessed, throwing her hands into the air like she wanted to catch every note I was playing. She undulated, shimmying and twirling around with such wild abandon that I forgot what I was doing and stopped playing and stared at her instead. Balzac sensed that I was losing my train of thought and leaped forward to deliver a blistering bass solo that had everyone clapping. Everyone except Maddie, who stared straight at me. The song ended, and I said the only thing I could think.
"Meet me in the back."
The long concrete hallway that ran behind the green room was still and quiet, hidden behind a heavy fire door. People would be looking for me, but not here. I only hoped that she would have the sense to find me. If I waited too long, I might realize what the fuck I was about to do.
A soft, shuddering breath echoed off the stone, and I had to smile to myself. Clever fucking girl. Maddie had to be a pro at ducking prying eyes. She probably frustrated the hell out of the paparazzi.
"Rane?" she called softly into the dark.
"Here," I replied.
She slipped out of the shadows and moved to me.
The hallway was definitely dark, but not so dark that I couldn't see the fire in her eyes. The ice queen, she was on the verge of melting, and she was staring at me with those eyes, begging me to put her over the edge. I knew her now. I knew she needed to be able to blame it on me. Reckless, wild abandonment frightened the shit out of her, but she also craved it as purely as I craved seeing her wild and reckless.
The only way she'd let it happen was if I made it happen.
Fuck it. It's my mantra, right? Fuck it...
and fuck her.
I traced my hand up her neck, cupping my fingers into her jaw to tilt her face up to mine. "Don't run away," I growled. She wasn't going to, but she also needed to be reminded that this mistake was going to be my fault. "Stay with me."
She nodded. I felt the little tremor and her skin heated under my hand. Goddamn. I had never met a chick that got me more riled. She was a swift-moving brook that iced over in November, all that motion under the calm surface. I wanted to make her crack...and then shatter.
I brushed my lips over hers, still holding her tightly against me. I felt rather than heard her quiet moan, and it rushed right to my cock.
Right now, I was one heartbeat away from burying my face between her legs.
She exhaled upward, retaking control. And I let her. I wanted to see what she would do next.
"Are you hard?" she asked.
"Are you wet?" I shot back, faster than I could think.
She cupped her hand around my cock. "Very." The way her lips formed around the word, it was like my cock was already between them.
"Kiss me, Maddie," I snarled. The rougher I sounded, the more I knew she'd give up. She made a noise like a trapped bird, fluttering and fluting, and lifted her lips to mine.
I slammed into her, rough and hot, not nearly as gentle as I should have been, but not nearly as rough as I wanted to be. From the moment I had met this girl, she had me hypnotized, and this twisted tango that we had been dancing had brought us right up to the edge of a cliff. And I liked living on the edge, and I liked jumping over, and fuck it, if I had no parachute then at least it would be a wild ride before I splattered all over the ground.
I ground into her frantically, needing to feel every inch of that perfect freckled skin. She gasped, and I was sure I was crushing all of the breath out of her lungs. I almost moved away, ready to let her take a breath, ready to let her tell me to cool it, back off, leave her alone.
Then she wrapped a long leg around mine and drew me in even closer.
"Yes," she hissed. It was more of a sound than a word, and the sibilant sigh of her breath escaping her lips grew higher and tighter as I kissed down her jaw to find that soft, sweet smelling space where her neck met her shoulder. I couldn't see her skin in the low light, and that thought angered me. I sucked more savagely than I meant to, drawing a high moan of painful delight from her lips. I pulled back and studied her face.
"You like it rough, don't you, Maddie?"
"I… don't know…" She was still trying to fight against the feelings. I sank my teeth into that same sensitive spot. She let out a little whoop, going up on her toes and arching instinctually against me.
"Yes, you do. I know exactly what you need. You need what I need, to feel it tomorrow. Something to remember tonight by." My fingers delved below her waistband, unfastening the little button on those skintight jeans. "You're gonna be smiling tomorrow. Sore but smiling. And every little ache, every little twinge of pain, every little tender sore spot on that perfect skin is going to remind you of what we did in this dark hallway, Maddie. You want that, don't you?"
My finger had found what I had been looking for. "Oh fuck, you don't even need to answer that. God, feel how wet you are, Maddie. You're completely soaked. Did you get this way watching me play guitar for you?"
I brushed my thumb lightly over her clit, and she buried her face into my shoulder, muffling a tense scream. "Tell me," I ordered her, moving my thumb in tight, controlled circles. "Tell me watching me play made you so wet."
"Rane, shut up."
She sought blindly for my lips, her eyes squeezed tightly against the onslaught of my fingers, but I pulled away. "Uh no, not yet, Princess. I've been thinking about fucking you since the moment I first saw you, and I am not rushing this."
"The door, there's people…"
"And I don't give a fuck." I had said those words probably a million times over the course of my life, but never did I mean them more than I did right now as I held Madeline Cole against my body, squeezing her ass cheek with one hand while with the other I slipped past the delicate lips of her pussy and slid home. Her protests died in a ragged gasp, and she slung her arms around my shoulder, wrapping her leg more tightly around me as I plunged one, then two fingers inside of her. She was so tight, so soft, and she fit around my fingers so perfectly that I could only imagine how tight she'd be against the hard thrust of my cock. The thought of it had me groaning right along with her, and suddenly, all the time I wanted to take—to torture her, to tease her, all of that time I promised I would spend marveling over every inch of her perfect skin—that promise was broken the second she started to shudder and shake. Feeling her tighten around my fingers made me lose my own fragile control, and when she inhaled sharply and then threw her head back, exposing the milky white softness of her throat as she came over and over again, I had to sink my teeth into that same spot to hold back myself from coming right along with her.
The second her cries subsided, I was a man possessed. I tore at her shirt, snapping one of the delicate straps, then yanked her jeans down her thighs. "Wait," she said, breathless, and stooped to fish in her purse for a second. "Condom," she hissed, her eyes wide and begging and her breath almost panting with need.
My cock was already in my hand. She caught my eye, never breaking eye contact as she pulled her shirt over her shoulders completely and stepped out of her jeans, naked and glowing in the low light of the hallway.
"Fuck me," I growled.
"Okay," she smiled, dropping to her knees.
Maybe I am an asshole, because the second I knew Madeline's lips existed, I was imagining how they'd feel sliding down the length of my cock. I had imagined it so often, but this? This was like nothing my filthy mind could have dreamt up on its own. The reality of feeling Madeline Cole's tongue swirl around me before she slid her lips down, taking the entire length of me in one gulp before pulling backwards with a gasp, that was more erotic than all the groupies, all the porn, all filthy fantasies I had trained up since puberty. This was the real deal, and if she didn't stop right now, I
was going to explode.
I tore the foil wrapper open, unrolling it in one practiced motion before yanking Maddie upwards. My lips found hers again, but this time, there was no sweetness in the kiss. This was all urgency and breathless anticipation. Savage, primal, the kind of kiss that turned you inside out. I bent down and grasped her by the ass cheeks. She obliged, leaping into my arms as we kept kissing, trying to devour each other. She wrapped her legs around my waist right at the moment that I sank into her, all the way to the hilt.
We hung there for a moment, suspended in the shock of what we were about to do. I froze, even though every inch of me wanted nothing more than to plunge into her with savage abandon, because even now, even as I was about to lose my mind with needing this girl, I still knew that what we were doing was wrong.
It was Maddie that began to move. She squeezed her thighs together, pulling herself tightly against me. "God," she moaned.
And that was all I needed.
"Jesus fuck." I could barely recognize my own voice. I pressed my lips against her neck, hoping that I could hold myself back from the ecstasy of being inside of her long enough to make this moment last. "Jesus fuck, Maddie." I seemed to have lost any semblance of eloquence. "Maddie, my God." Her whole body shuddered, impossibly strong thighs squeezing tightly against my waist, her perfect breasts smashed against my chest, her body slick with the sweat of exertion in the warm hallway, the smell of her arousal and of her own soft scent swirling around me I was losing myself in this girl and I was certain that I was never going to be the same again. "Oh shit," she screamed, shuddering like she was about to fall. I clenched her close and felt her whole body quiver from the inside out, and then she was gasping, a high, keening cry, and my own orgasm came barreling down on me, white-hot and savage.
A sharp inhale—hers, my own, I couldn't be sure. I wasn't even sure where she ended and I began. She was panting and wide-eyed and saying...something.
"Yeah," I answered. I was drunk off the undone sight of her. The aftershock of feeling her shatter all around me. I could still taste her on my tongue, smell her skin on mine, and in that moment I would have agreed to fucking anything she asked of me. The moon? I'll bring you the fucking moon, Madeline. Have my guys call your guys and I'll get you the whole night sky.
Wait. What was she saying?
"...can't do this anymore..."
Chapter Twenty-Two
Madeline
My mother happily prattled on, with no idea that I was dying inside.
To look at me, you'd have no idea I was dying. But that was the problem. I was too damn happy. I felt my lips stretch into a smile again and again and again. Every little aftershock, every memory of last night, was written all over my face. Everything was right at the surface, uncontained and unchecked.
Rane Wilder fucked the composure right out of me.
What the hell had I done?
"...certainly won't be wearing white. That ship sailed a while ago," my mother said, holding what looked like an embroidered table cloth up to her chest.
I tried to focus. "Twenty-three years ago?" I teased her.
She raised an eyebrow. "Your dad and I had a few...practice rounds...beforehand, Maddie."
I rolled my eyes dramatically. "Gross."
"But look at you. I'd say practice made perfect, wouldn't you agree?"
My mother beamed at me from over the rack of dresses, and I tried my best not to squirm like a guilty schoolgirl and confess my crimes right then and there. It was a strange emotion to feel when it came to my mother. Her love had always been so constant and unconditional that I never had reason for guilt. It was all I could do to keep a smile on my face and not fall to her feet and blurt out everything that Rane and I had done.
What we had done. It felt like it was running on a loop on the back of my eyeballs. I was wide-eyed and staring, afraid to blink in case I saw his face again.
His face in the dark, the way his eyes closed in bliss every time his lips met mine. The delicious little noises he made, the fucking enthusiasm he showed. I'd been a celebrity my entire life, but last night was the first time I had ever felt worshipped.
I had fallen apart, and he had scattered the pieces in front of us and declared them beautiful.
How was I going to give that up?
I have to give that up.
We have to stop.
Dammit. Mom was waiting for me to reply.
I summoned a smile from deep inside. Focus. On her. This is not about you. "There are quite a few people who'd disagree with you, Mom. Ainsley Fitch for one of them." My old agent had earned the nickname "Fitch the Bitch" after my mother found out about Ainsley's pharmaceutical methods of "loosening" fourteen-year-old me up, and once had to drag me bodily from a party I was way too young to be attending.
"Bitchy Fitchy is out of your life now, Madeline. Look at us. You're recovered. I'm getting married. I'd say the Cole girls have done pretty well for themselves."
"Yeah." My guilt still nipped at the edges of my brain, but there were few things that made me feel better than my mother's steadfast cheerleading.
"Now, what do you think of this one?"
There was a time that I could have afforded to dress my mother in designer duds for her wedding, but time and circumstances had brought us to an off-the-rack department store. I tried to tell myself it didn't matter, that she was happy as anything just to be finding a wedding dress, but part of me wanted to silently make up for last night's mistake with my sole remaining Black card.
The pale lilac gown was dripping with beads, far too heavy for my mother's thin frame. I wrinkled my nose. "Too busy. We want to look at you, not your gown."
"Mike likes me in pastels," she mused. "I don't know why. I think they make me look washed out."
"Try something warmer. How about this pink one?"
My mother cocked her head. "I used to not be able to wear pink, back when my hair was as bright as yours. But gray hair is a wonderful neutral." She laughed brightly and took the simple blush A-line from me. "Should I try it on?"
I clapped my hands. "Yes! Need help?"
"I can dress myself, Madeline. Heavens." She shook her head. "You don't need to wait on me."
But I do, I didn't say. I just nodded and watched her slip into a dressing room, the excitement radiating from her face making her even more impossibly beautiful than usual.
I wanted to hold her tightly, even as I wanted so badly to be able to let her go. Could I let her go? For years, she had been known only as Maddie Cole's mom. She was Sylvia Cole, soon to be Sylvia Wilder, a name she was choosing for herself. I should be happy for that. Why did I feel like I was losing something integral, like a limb?
"You good in there?" I asked anxiously, knocking on the door.
The door swung open slowly, and my mother stood in front of me, twisting her hands. "It's too much, right?"
I closed my mouth with an audible pop. "Oh, Mom…" I breathed.
"Too much, right?"
I shook my head. "You look… You look beautiful."
Her eyes shone with joy. "I've just… It's so fancy."
"It's a wedding," I clarified. "Weddings are fancy. Even courtroom weddings are worthy of a pretty dress. Do you like it?"
"I think I do. I'm just trying to get used to that woman in the mirror." She fluffed out the draping skirt and swiveled side to side, watching it swirl around her calves.
She looked like a little girl. A happy little girl playing dress-up and feeling beautiful. Something caught in my voice as I told her, "That woman in the mirror is you. You're beautiful, Mom. You should wear something that makes you feel as beautiful as you are."
She squeezed my upper arm, her eyes shining. "My little girl."
"If you start crying, I'm going to start crying, and then we'll both be wrecks," I warned her. "That's what always happens."
She laughed a little. "Fair enough." She turned back to the mirror and smoothed the blush pink over her hips. "I can't believe I'm a
ctually doing this. Getting married, at my age? I never thought the day would come. When your dad d—" She always stumbled over the word, had to psych herself up to say it. "When your dad died," she continued, clearing her throat, "I thought the part of me that could love a man died with him." She looked in the mirror, blinking. Then she exhaled, lifting her chin, a mannerism I recognized from seeing myself do it in the mirror several thousand times. "And I was so busy raising you, being a mother to you. Now that you're older, now that you're better…" She turned to me and gave me a look of such pure love that it pierced me. "I have to say that a part of me wanted to keep you young forever, needing me forever. But seeing you, how well you're doing, how you’re taking charge of your own life...." She brushed my cheek with her fingertips. "I finally trust that you don't need me anymore. That's the only reason I told Mike 'yes.'"
Hold yourself together, Maddie. Don't show her how badly you fall apart when you lose control. Let her think she isn't needed; it's the only way she'll do this. "I'm so grateful for that, Maddie," she went on, oblivious to my torment. "I'm so proud of you."
I stuttered and stammered for a moment. First last night's breakdown, and now this. Emotion was threatening me at every turn, too big to be stuffed back down inside. Everything felt too close to the surface. I needed to walk away before it overwhelmed me. I needed her to stop looking at me like the sun rose and set on my say so.
I needed to never see Rane again.
"Get out of the dress," I squeaked. "I'm paying."
"Oh, Maddie, no, no. You don't have to do that...." She fluttered about, protesting, but in the end squeezed my hand and went back into the dressing room to carefully rehang her wedding dress on its hanger and smilingly hand it to me.
As I took it to the counter to pay, I could feel my phone vibrating away in my bag. I set it down, fished out my wallet and glanced at the barrage of text messages that were still incoming.
"So, I feel terrible about bailing on girls’ night," the text from Harlow read.
