by Sosie Frost
I cried out as he sliced inside me, completely sealed within me. Every fierce and unyielding stroke of his thick cock whipped me into a shameful pleasure.
“We aren’t good for each other,” I whispered. “Not anymore.”
“You’re lying to me.” His fingers tightened. “Tell me you haven’t imagined this moment every minute of every day since I was locked up.”
Of course I had imagined it. His body and touch and fierceness lived an endless fantasy in my mind. In the darkest moments of the night, I longed for nothing more than to be pinned under him again, to be taken as his obsession and his prize.
He read my expression. Knew my thoughts. Felt what was in my heart.
His conquering smile sealed our fate.
“Hold on, Sweets,” Maddox growled. “I’ll give you everything you’ve been missing and more.”
He positioned my hips and forced me to take all of his ravenous cock. I groaned as he lifted me. Maddox didn’t need a wall or bed to fuck me. His biceps tensed, flushed with sweat. He used his own strength to drive me onto his cock again and again. Full, harsh, intimidating thrusts that punished and loved my wanting slickness.
I buried my head in his neck as his motions turned primal and animalistic. That ache built in my core. It was too much. I sweated, trembled, begged. I bit his shoulder to keep from screaming. That only made him fuck me harder, deeper into my core.
He was too strong. Too big.
Too unbelievably wrong for me.
Everything about Maddox screamed danger, including how easily he plucked me up, imbedded me with his bare cock, and fucked me like I was a little rag-doll for his pleasure. He was the one man I never should have wanted, a dark and threatening force in my life. He owned my body, controlled my desire, and welcomed my surrender.
Those feelings hadn’t diminished after a year. I’d do anything for this man. Anything. And if I wasn’t careful, it would damn us and ruin the justice I demanded for him.
“Josie…” His words clipped over an aggressive profanity. “Come for me.”
He didn’t need to order it. I was already there, bucking and groaning and dying as my heart shredded itself in both relief and agony. I tensed and arched, crying out for him as the pleasure shattered my will. A furious heat burst into my core, so intense I feared the fire trapped us once more.
It wasn’t flames.
It was him—bare and thick, shooting his heated jet inside me. His words growled nonsense, and he slammed me harder against his pumping cock.
His roar should have terrified me. Instead it curled my toes and earned him my second surrender. He filled me completely, unwaveringly, and carried me imbedded on his cock to the couch. Maddox dropped me onto my back, and my legs fell open. He slapped away my hands as I tried to hide what he had already taken.
It was no use. We weren’t strangers. We weren’t awkward lovers.
And we weren’t yet satisfied.
He fell over me, hands tangled in my hair, his hand tickling the slick, dark petals of my slit. I twisted and groaned, too sensitive from his fucking to endure any more.
He didn’t care.
His cock thrust inside me again, his seed slickening me for a rougher claiming.
“More…” He grunted, stealing my hesitations with a kiss. “I’m not letting you go, Sweets. Not until I know you’re mine.”
“How?”
“When you’re spent. Exhausted. Coming uncontrollably.” He grinned, biting that sensitive spot on my neck once more. “Once I know you’re carrying my baby.”
Oh, God. It shouldn’t have thrilled me, but the Josie of a year ago who cared only about cookies and cakes and starting a family screamed at me to just let him in once more, to accept him, to take everything he offered.
“I need to know you’re safe,” Maddox said. His motions stilled. “I’ll protect you, Josie. I swear to God, I’ll find the man who separated us, who tried to hurt you, who destroyed your store…and I’ll take my revenge.”
His body slammed into mine, again and again, fierce and…
Frightened?
Like he thought he’d lose me?
Like he thought I was the one in danger?
My heart thudded, too hard and too desperate. I forced him to slow, only so I could touch his face. I kissed his perfect lips, ones that only knew how to curse and threaten to prove his love.
I could stay safe on my own, but I couldn’t protect Maddox from himself.
The man I loved was in danger, and I’d do everything in my power to keep him alive.
Even if it meant breaking his heart.
Chapter Three – Maddox
Josie Davis belonged to me.
She was the only woman I ever loved, and she had been taken from me. Or I was taken from her. It didn’t matter. Every hour I spent apart from her razed into meaningless eternity. Without her touch, without her beautiful almond eyes, I was lost. Empty. I didn’t live my life for her. She was my life, and I was an idiot for taking that gift for granted.
Injustice separated us for an entire year, and I’d be damned if I let anything keep me from her now. Not the law. Not the town. Not even layers of clothing.
I didn’t know what time it was. Hell if I even knew the day. In the darkness, Josie writhed in pleasure. It was the least I could offer her. Christ only knew if she had been scared without me. While I was jailed, the monster who burned down her shop might have returned to harm her, steal from her, and threaten her. I went insane imagining horrible and heart-shattering visions of her in danger.
Somebody wanted me gone, and I knew exactly who framed me.
I’d get my revenge. I’d protect the one thing that mattered most to me.
And then I’d give her the life she deserved.
Josie was petite, pint-size—half a scoop of chocolate ice cream. Her dark skin tasted just as sweet. Luxurious. The first time I saw her, I made the mistake of labeling her as brown sugar. She wasn’t insulted, just thought I was causing trouble and trying to steal some of her desserts from her shop. She even accused me of plotting to take her chocolate-covered cherry.
It had been my plan—and a dirty one at that. But then I had a sample of that softness. A single kiss and I was hers. I knew then I wanted all of her. Body. Heart. Future.
Josie Davis would right every mistake I’d ever made, forgive every sin I’d committed, and heal me from every punishment of my past.
If she took me back.
If not, I’d fuck the doubt from her mind until she realized she was mine, and we were meant to survive this life together.
Her legs wrapped around me as I taught her, and she knew better than to move her arms from her sides or above her head. I rutted into her, hard and unforgiving, savoring her tightness.
No other man had taken her but me. No one had touched her but me. Her innocence and body were mine and mine alone, and I lost myself in that simple desire.
Her breasts bounced with every thrust—a handful of perfection that tempted me more than any sugar she baked or icing she licked off her finger. I clasped her dark nipple between my teeth. She liked that, especially when I bit on that sensitive, taut—
“Maddox!” Her voice shrilled. A ripple of pleasure bound through her, trapping her within her own orgasm and my relentless thrusts. “Oh, I can’t…I just keep…”
“Don’t stop coming for me…” I gripped her hips and tortured myself with her tightness. “You owe me a year’s worth of orgasms.”
She liked the sound of that. Or her body did. Josie was too sweet, still too damn innocent to admit to wanting to be fucked hard, fast, and without mercy. Not that I’d ever show her any, and not that she ever needed it. That slick little pussy accepted everything I did, and together we crested into every promised pleasure the world had denied us.
Josie’s soft voice whispered my name.
Her timid lips kissed me when she feared to speak the truth.
She submitted to my cock, so obedient and loving I didn’t
know which one of us was in control.
I’d fuck her. Flip her onto the bed, pound her against the wall, and yet it was me, every damn time, losing my mind to her and her alone.
No other woman compared. No other person in the world understood me like Josie. She saved me from a life of darkness, crime, and violence. I owed everything to her.
She arched under me, offering more of her to slam and seize. After a full-night of fucking, my body ached and my balls swelled and yet I wanted only to bury myself deeper in her.
I grunted, steadying myself hilt-deep until we were flesh against flesh. She tensed. Her words crashed with a soft agony, and her body betrayed her into another crackling and uncompromising orgasm that racked her in utter surrender to me.
Nothing looked so beautiful.
I would take her. Ruin her. Possess her.
Start a life with her.
Create a life within her.
This was my chance to take back what was mine, and it began and ended with her. Too much time wasted while I served my sentence. I wouldn’t lose another moment before beginning that journey with Josie.
She fell limp against the bed, panting my name. I erupted inside her. I growled too harsh and frightening for a woman who deserved none of my aggression but endured every punishing strike. I let the desire overwhelm me, and I filled her with my every hope, secret fantasy, everything I wanted in life.
Our life.
Together.
I collapsed over her, rolling to her side to avoid crushing the woman who offered her body for my delights. In prison, I remembered her scent. Her eyes. Her heat. But I’d forgotten how much she loved me. I wasn’t insecure, just realistic. Josie Davis had no reason to want me.
But she did. She hadn’t said it, but she couldn’t hide it. Not from me.
I’d fucked her for hours, but the softness of her cheek against my chest was the real pleasure. Her breathing lengthened, and her eyes fluttered closed. Either I fucked her too good, or she felt safe enough to pass out beside me. I hoped it was both. Problem was, I shouldn’t have stayed. Shouldn’t have even come to her.
I had nothing to offer her. Hell, I was nothing. The only thing I promised her was a night of animalistic fucking, and I did my only deed well. But I wasn’t looking to win her back. I only wanted to prove she hadn’t made a shitty mistake falling for me in the first place.
And these days, I wasn’t so sure.
She rolled away first.
I didn’t expect that.
Usually she was quiet after sex—a polite word for subdued. I never cuddled, but Josie didn’t fuck like a rented whore. When we were dating, after I took her, I kept her against my muscle. Made sure she knew how much I loved her, even if I couldn’t show it beyond rutting her into senseless oblivion.
The sheet fluttered over her body. She tried to wrap it around her curves. Failed. Sometime during the night we tangled every blanket inside the other. She fought with the fitted sheet and lost as it snapped over the mattress.
Why the hell did she cover herself? I’d already memorized every part of her body—petite, slim, dark, and sexy. She tripped over her unsteady feet and lunged for a pair of panties. In a rush, she tugged them up. Backwards. She might have tried again, but instead she tossed a shirt over her head and attempted to cover the mistake.
What the hell was she doing?
“Get in bed,” I ordered.
I’d have dressed too, but I hadn’t come that much in a year. For all I knew, my heart would explode in exhaustion or relief.
Josie ignored me.
“It’s late,” I said.
She brushed her hair from her face. Without her usual headband or scrunchies or pretty little scarves, the curls bounced everywhere. She smoothed them down. Didn’t work. They bounded and teased, as playful as ever.
“It’s not late…” She wagged her phone at me. “It’s early.”
Like I could read the numbers. No blood stayed in my head. “All the more reason to sleep.”
“I can’t.”
“Sure, you can. Get in bed. Pull the covers up. Rest your head right here.” I pointed to my chest. “You used to do it all the time, Sweets.”
“No, really, I—”
“It’s me, Josie.” My voice lowered.
Her gaze snapped to meet mine, but I didn’t trust how far she moved from the bed.
Was it the scars? They were ugly, only a year to heal the burns. The flames ruined my tattoos, but at least they’d disfigured me and not her.
“It’s me,” I said again. “Come to bed.”
She didn’t hesitate, not even a fake reluctance. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Where else would I go?”
She nibbled on her bottom lip. Anxious?
“I don’t know,” she said. “I had no idea you were out. I thought…you shouldn’t be here.”
“Why?”
Her voice hardened. “It’s my apartment. Do I have to explain why?”
I snorted. Where the hell was this firecracker coming from? My girl wasn’t confrontational, she was resourceful and adaptive. Two years ago, Josie couldn’t even return a bucket of the wrong colored icing for her cupcake orders. Valentine’s Day turned blue, and everyone in Saint Christie kissed each other with indigo-tinted lips.
I moved from the bed. Pride got me to my feet, but stupidity opened my mouth.
“You don’t have to explain.” I grunted. “Just figured you’d miss me or something. Been a year, Sweets.”
“Yeah. A long year.”
She reached over a laundry basket filled with spare bags of flour to search for clothes. Something to hide her delicates. Josie and lingerie didn’t mix—not around open flame and splattering bacon and pancake breakfasts. That was fine. I preferred her padding in the bedroom wearing only my shirt.
Josie wrapped herself in a robe instead, a frustratingly oversized puff ball that hid everything I took beneath a force-field of a fuzzy, knotted belt.
Point taken.
I followed her to the kitchen though I tugged on my jeans before I bobbed cock-first after her. I wasn’t some lovesick puppy, but I deserved more than shifting from the heat between her legs to enduring a cold shoulder.
She aimed for the flour—her usual stress relief. I preferred working out, hitting a punching bag until my fists bled. Josie kneaded instead. Piping bags and sugar crowded her countertops. She didn’t have enough room for a rolling pin between the wall and the sink. A tower of unevenly stacked baking sheets threatened to topple.
This wasn’t a good apartment for her. Hell, even her oven door came with a bungie cord.
I pointed at the make-shift solution. “Broken? I can fix it for you.”
Josie didn’t look at me. “It’s not big enough for a standard cookie sheet. I bungie the door closed when I bake.”
“You’re shitting me.”
She studied her ingredients. “I don’t have an industrial kitchen anymore.”
I asked the question that burned me since I got to town. “Why didn’t you rebuild the shop?”
“No money.”
“Insurance?”
This apparently wasn’t her favorite subject. She turned, clutching a bag of sugar. “Do you want the long or short version?”
“It’s just a question, Sweets.”
“Granddad got hurt in the fire. Bad. By the time the fire marshal was done with the investigation and the insurance paid out for the arson…” She swallowed. “We had medical bills. You know how it is.”
No. I didn’t. She was lying to me. Josie never fibbed because she couldn’t pull it off. A year away hadn’t changed that.
She set a mixing bowl on the counter and measured her flour. Her hand trembled as she dumped more ingredients into the bowl.
Why was she scared?
I thought a year separated from her would kill me. This was worse. I hated to bring up the fire, but I had no idea what else might have frightened her so much. I folded my arms. Didn’t help.
Now my scars flexed, raw and ugly. They gave me cred in jail, but I wasn’t looking for confrontation now.
I just wanted my girl in my arms.
“What do you remember from that night?” I regretted the question as soon as I asked it.
She answered immediately, like a reflex. “Nothing. I woke up in the hospital after the fire. Can you please pass me the egg beaters? They’re on top of the fridge.”
She was no bigger than half a bite of cookie, but she could damn well reach. She meant to change the subject.
She was lying again.
What the hell.
“What are you making?” I asked.
“Cookies.”
“Why?”
“The pay is good.”
This wasn’t my Josie. My girl never shut up. She rambled about recipes and imported chocolates and ideas for her newest creations. Before her, I never gave a shit about the girls I slept with. Wouldn’t have talked to them, and they had nothing worthy to say. But once I fell for Josie, I gained five pounds and a new appreciation for the Belgians and their cocoa powder.
She tugged at her robe. Her lip trembled. It took a lot to make Josie cry, not when she had enough ideas and ambition to exhaust every plan before letting a tear escape. In her kitchen, crying was for spilled milk. And shattered sugar sculptures. And the DeAngelos dropped wedding cake.
I’d only ask it once. “What’s wrong?”
She stared at her bowl of flour. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Want me to go?”
That she hedged. “We broke up, Maddox. Remember? Before the fire? You were…” She hugged herself. “You got so mad.”
“Because I knew what we had. I knew we were wrong to let it go. I wanted to make it work.”
“Me too. I tried. But you’re…”
“What?”
“No one in the town trusted you. They said you were dangerous. And then you got arrested…”
“I was innocent.”
“Not to the town. Or the judge.”
“What about you?”
She didn’t answer. The silence was like a punch to the gut.
“You didn’t come to see me in jail,” I said. “You didn’t write. Didn’t call. You didn’t even say goodbye after the trial.”
