by JJ Knight
Dad settles back on the bed again. “She likes me,” he says.
“Don’t talk if it makes you cough,” I say.
“Coughing means I’m not dead,” he counters with a smile. “I’ll live through it.”
“How bad are your lungs? Has the doctor said?” I ask.
Dad waves his hand to dismiss the question. “I’m fine.”
I sit on the edge of the bed. “How are you feeling?”
“Clean and dry and warm. Well fed.” He elbows the pillow behind him. “Good food and a comfortable spot. I’m the best I’ve been in years.”
This stabs me straight through my chest. “Dad, we have to get you off the streets. I’m grown now. I can help.”
“You have your own life to worry about. And this fine young man here.”
“You’re part of my life,” I insist.
“I haven’t told him,” Parker says.
I turn to him. “About what?”
“Lily.”
Dad looks back and forth between us. “Who’s Lily?”
I take his hand. It’s weathered and tough, like an old glove. “Dad, I have a little girl.”
His eyes open wide. “I have a grandchild?”
I nod. I don’t know what he’ll think, since I’m not married, and I was so young.
“Does he belong to this fellow here?”
I nod again.
“Well, where is she? Can I see her?” He’s sitting up again, animated, eyes sparking with excitement.
“I can fetch her,” Parker says.
I think about it. Lily knows we are seeing her Grandpaps, as she has called him, since that is what she learned from one of her favorite books. “Okay,” I say. “As long as the nurse thinks it’s okay.”
“Who cares about the nurse?” Dad says. “How old is she?”
I hesitate since then he’ll know how young I was to have her. “She just turned four.”
This doesn’t faze him in the least. “I remember when you were four. Such a brave little creature you were. Always getting into things.” Another cough threatens, but this time Dad beats his chest and doesn’t succumb to it.
“I’ll go down for her,” Parker says. “Should Delores come?”
This changes Dad totally. He turns to me. “Your aunt is here?” he asks.
“Yes, I live with her. In New York.”
Now he is confused. “But Parker is here in LA.”
I want to clear up the problem. “Dad, Parker and I aren’t married. He just said that so they would let him see you. We, sort of, fell apart.”
Now he looks back and forth between us. “That explains the sadness in both your eyes.” He reaches over to squeeze my hand. “I think the only thing that will put the light back in them is each other.”
This is too much talking, and he has to pick up the cloth, coughing painfully into it. I rub his back again and look over at Parker.
His lips are pinched together, and a muscle tenses in his jaw. He nods at me once, then leaves to go get Lily.
I wish things were as simple as two people just being together. But for us, it just isn’t.
Chapter 11: Parker
I walk around my apartment in useless circles. Maddie has agreed to see me by herself. She didn’t want me to pick her up, so I just have to wait until she comes.
It’s been a long day. Lily and her grandfather had a good time coloring on his bed. Lily passes no judgments and has no fear. She is so much like her mother.
Delores oddly opted to stay away from the hospital room. She sat in a waiting area at the end of the hall.
I dropped them all off at Maddie’s mother’s house a couple hours ago. Maddie suggested I not go in and sent me on the errand to pick up a booster seat for Lily.
The box sits by the door. Colt has told me to hold on to the car for a few days. I know how lucky I am to be surrounded by friends who are willing to help. I took the day off training today, but I’ll have to go back tomorrow. The fight is coming up fast.
Unless I cancel it. And I will, if Maddie asks. I’ll return all the money, the sponsor fees, everything. I won’t care. I’ll stick on a security uniform and sit by a door all day if that’s what it takes. I know what I want now.
Maddie just has to say that it’s what she wants too.
The guy from the gym in New York has called incessantly since I won the Vegas fight, reminding me I have a gym there to train if I want it. I have options. I just have to know what Maddie wants.
The soft knock at my door sends my anxiety skyrocketing.
I open the door, and there she is, looking a little harried.
“Mother getting to you?” I ask.
“Please tell me you have something to drink.” She passes by me and drops onto the sofa.
“I don’t really have alcohol,” I say. “But I can go get something.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t drink it either. You know. Because of Dad. It’s just an expression.” She looks around. “So this is your place.”
“It’s pretty plain.”
Maddie stands up again and walks around the living room. Seeing her in all the places I’d imagined feels like a mirage, as if she isn’t really here. My blood starts pounding, picturing her hair spilling across the sofa cushions.
Patience. With Maddie, it always comes down to patience.
She pauses in front of a giant poster of Anderson Silva. “Who’s this?”
“Pretty much the greatest MMA fighter of all time. Longest win streak. Been fighting for decades. Had a documentary made about him.”
“Wow,” she says.
“People keep calling for him to retire, but he just loves it too much.”
She turns to look at me. “You feel that way too.”
Time to go for broke. “I thought so. But now I’m not so sure.”
Maddie’s expression darkens and she turns back to the poster. “You have your big chance coming up.”
I step closer and turn her around. “I’m more concerned about what my chances are with you.”
“Parker…” Her voice trails off.
I grip her shoulders. “Tell me what has happened. Tell me why you ran.”
She shakes her head.
Anger rises up in me. She can’t do this. She can’t just shut me out. “Maddie. You have to.”
“I shouldn’t be here.” She looks past me at the door as if she expects someone to crash through it.
“Is it Lani? Or Striker? Are they bothering you?”
Her eyes flit back to mine and I see the fear there. God, what is she going through? “I won’t let them hurt you,” I say.
Maddie shoves at me, hard. “What? Like in Vegas? When I was duct-taped and flung around a van and I didn’t know from one minute to the next if I was going to be raped or tossed out on the road?”
“We know who our enemies are now,” I say, my voice getting dangerously loud. “Do you think you’re safer out there without me?”
“I do!” she cries. “They’ve left me alone since we split up.”
Shit. So they were messing with her. I snatch her arms and drag her up against me. “I’m going to take them down. I will do it.”
Her fists pound against my chest. “You can’t stop them. If you kill them, you’ll go to jail. If you don’t, they won’t give up.”
I tighten her against me, stilling her hands. “We know what we’re up against,” I say again.
She struggles against me. “It’s not safe for me to be here. They will find out.”
I hold her even tighter. “Then why did you come?”
She goes still. “I couldn’t help it.”
“Why?”
“You found my dad.”
I don’t believe her. “So, gratitude?” I push her away. “Did you come over here for a thank-you fuck?”
She backs up. “No!”
“Then say what you really feel.”
Maddie keeps walking backward until she runs into the wall. “I can’t do that!”
I’m so frustrated I want to punch through the plaster beside her head. “You will!” In two steps, I’m back up to her, my head exploding with her refusal to say it. I know what she’s feeling. I know it’s there.
I won’t let her forget what we are.
My hands reach for her, and I jerk her toward me. My mouth on hers is relentless, demanding, forcing her lips apart. She fights me, but she always fought me, and in that struggle is where her real feelings come alive.
She smacks her hands against my arms and squirms away, but I know she’s struggling against herself, not me. I won’t let her escape.
I only have her by the head, my hands still on either side of her face. She could get away, but my kiss keeps her there. My tongue slides against hers. She’s still pushing at me, as if she can keep our bodies separate but our mouths together.
I let go of her but she doesn’t break the kiss. Her arms drop down and now we’re only touching by our lips. Still, she’s there and not leaving. My hand goes behind her head and presses her closer in. I dive into her so far that we’re part of the same person, the kiss bonding us into one.
Now her hands are on my shirt, grabbing it in her fists. She’s back, she’s mine, my Maddie again. I draw her body flush against mine. When she feels how hard I am against her, she moans into my mouth, rocking into me.
But I am in no hurry. I want her to need this, to long for it. To know she can’t go without it.
I flatten my palm against the lowest part of her back, pushing her against my hips. She lifts her leg, wanting the pressure somewhere else. I am happy to give that to her, drawing her knee up and around my waist.
Now I have access, and I thrust against her. She breaks this kiss, dropping her head to my shoulder. I know she’s on fire. I am too.
Her hands snake around my waist, pushing me harder against her. This won’t be enough for her soon, but I will not let her rush this. I will make her ache for it.
She reaches between us for my belt and I allow this. The buckle clinks as she unhooks it, then the snap pops open. She has to pull away to unzip the crotch, and I let that happen too.
Her hand reaches in and pulls me out. Her breathing speeds up as she wraps her hand around the length and runs her fingers up and down.
I am not unaffected, but she won’t push me over any edge right now. I will control this, control her. The way we are together isn’t a typical exchange. I will plumb every bit of knowledge I have about her, take it to every limit.
She shoves my jeans down, and my boxers. I kick off my shoes and step out of them. Her hands go to my shirt and pull it over my head.
She feels as though she has the power now that I’m naked in front of her. She circles me, biting along my skin, her hands running along my body. Her fingers trace the edges of my tattoos. I’m tempted, and my pulse beats hard against my pressure points, all the places that are vulnerable in a fight.
But I’m not letting up.
She comes back around, her eyes lifting to mine, dark and hungry. This affects me more than anything else, but I wait, steadying myself with deep even breaths.
She unbuttons the top of her shirt, one after the other, slowly exposing her skin. I’m shaken, but I hold fast, watching her.
She takes a step away, then lets the shirt slide off her shoulders, down her arms, and to the floor. Her bra is almost the same color as her skin. Her breasts are pushed high, the shadow of her cleavage dark and inviting.
But I stay in place, my twitching fingers at my side. Only the occasional jump of my cock gives away that I’m doing anything but watching with quiet attention.
Her shoes come off, revealing her small feet and pink toes. The jeans pop open, then slip down into a pile at her ankles.
Her underwear is black as night, lacy and fragile. I could snap it off her with only the smallest tug. But I resist. Her thighs gleam from the overhead light. She acts like she’s bored with this and begins to walk around the room again in just the bra and panties. This almost breaks me, but I just follow her with my eyes. The curve of her back, the roundness of her ass in the panties.
I start to wonder who is in control here after all.
She walks to the kitchen, where the light is even brighter. Her dark hair shines as each bulb hits the strands. She goes to the freezer and opens the door. I know what she’s doing and my knees actually give a little. Toughen up, soldier, I tell myself.
She grabs an ice cube and closes the door.
She palms it in her hand and I know the moment that it starts to hurt because she sucks in a breath.
When she comes over to me, I’m frozen in place. Her hand reaches out. She doesn’t even use the ice, just her cold, cold palm, and covers my nipple.
Now I intake a sharp breath. She quirks one of her eyebrows and her eyes drop down where my cock refuses to sit still. I think she’s going to go for it, but she doesn’t. Instead, she slides one strap of her bra down her shoulder, then the other.
I want to hold on to something. I spread my feet for stability as her bra falls to the floor. Then the ice cube flashes. She slides it between her breasts.
My pulse jumps up as her nipples pucker. A small bead of water melts off the cube and slides down to her belly, hovering over her navel. The urge to lick it is so strong that I tighten my hands into fists.
But then her fingers are moving and my gaze is pulled back. The clear half moon of ice slips over the swell of her breast and down to that pink nipple. It tightens harder, into the smallest hardest nub. She inhales, but moves the cube in a slow circle.
My erection is painfully swollen. I want my mouth on that breast, warming it up, but I won’t move. I won’t break.
She moves to the other one, closing her eyes and letting her head fall back. I can’t stop watching, the ice melting faster now, drips falling down her body.
I almost take a step toward her, but pull back. She’s opening her eyes when I do it and I think she sees. A small smile lifts the corners of her mouth.
So she goes in for the kill.
The ice slides down, down her belly. One finger tugs on the strap of her panties and pulls it away. They fall silently to her ankles. The ice is just a sliver now, long and thin. She guides it with her finger, down against her, slipping into the folds.
She lets out a moan and a shiver cuts across her body. One of her thigh muscles twitches. “It’s so cold,” she says.
And that’s it, I have snapped. I am on the ground, kneeling in front of her, my tongue against the chilly flesh. I spread her thighs, pressing up, lapping at her until it’s warm. My hand goes up to a breast, kneading it back to the right temperature.
Her fingers clutch at my head, pressing me into her, wanting it deeper. She’s so wet and slippery and growing hotter by the second. I want better access, so I drag her to the carpet. I push her legs up and away, spreading them wide. And I dive into her, face to her belly, mouth deep inside her, spearing her with my tongue.
She can’t be still, pushing up into me, needing more, needing all of it. I slide two fingers inside, pressing up into her. Her moans grow into cries. I can feel her muscles tensing around me. I want her to orgasm and then do it again, and I know I can make all this happen, and I will.
I curl my finger inside her until I feel her convulse against me.
“Parker, Parker,” she says and I know she’s electrified, on the edge.
I plunge a little harder and tweak this spot I’ve rediscovered. I know when she’s gone over because her pelvis rises up and her whole body shakes. Her cries aren’t actual words anymore, but a long string of sounds. It’s musical, beautiful, my Maddie in her element.
Only when she starts to settle down again do I slow my movements, bringing her to a quiet place, but definitely not to rest.
I am not even close to done with her.
Chapter 12: Maddie
I want to settle onto the floor, relax into what has just happened, but Parker has other ideas. He lifts me up into his arms and
carries me into another room of his apartment.
His bedroom.
In any other situation, I would want to look around, see what sort of space Parker has lived in. But his eyes are intense, on me like a hungry wolf. I know this back and forth of ours, getting together, splitting apart, coming together again, has made our lives a hellish roller coaster.
Maybe that’s just the way our lives were meant to be.
Light from the adjoining bathroom spills gently onto the bed as he places me down on it. His hands push my hair back. Something’s shifted. Parker closes his eyes for a minute, his eyebrows drawn together. He leans over me but his arms are trembling like it’s a great effort.
But it’s not physical exertion getting him. It’s emotional. I run a hand along his bulky arm, across the tattoo of a sunburst. He drops his head.
“How long?” he says, his voice thick.
I don’t know what he means.
“How long until what?” I ask.
He doesn’t answer right away. I keep my hand on his arm, lightly touching him. He rests only partially against me, propped up.
“Until you leave me again.”
My breath catches. I’m causing him pain. But this wasn’t my choice. Not this time.
“Parker.”
Now his voice has more fierceness. “How fucking long, Maddie? How long until you do this again?”
I don’t know what to say. His moods are shifting faster than I can follow.
“I don’t plan it,” I say. “It just happens. Probably it’s always going to happen.”
“No,” he says flatly. Then his mouth crashes onto mine, relentless, unstoppable. The world tilts, and I’m drowning in his attention, the intensity of his emotion, his pain, his need. His hands are everywhere, my hair, my breasts, my body. He parts my knees and expertly works the nub. I respond instantly, as I always have to him. He knows me so well.
His mouth lowers to a nipple, teasing it out. I’m spiraling up again, the tension gathering in my belly. I want it again. I’m desperate for it.
“Tell me you won’t leave me,” he says.
I’m gasping, clutching at his shoulders. “I won’t,” I say.
