Iconic (Adrenaline Series Book 6)

by Xavier Neal

  I whip my head around at him. “Second best?”

  He monitions a hand towards himself.

  Turning back to Herman I say, “See. Tool.”

  The laugh that comes out of him is immediately followed by one from me. Madden merely shakes his head and grips me tighter. Our conversation with Herman continues care-freely. At first his grip seems sweet, but before I know it the kneading of my skin turns from sensual to sexual at a rate that has me desperate to get the hell out of here.

  “Max would be proud,” Herman states finishing the last of his scotch. “You're just like him.”

  Unsure of how to react, I glance at Madden whose entire face has stiffened.

  “You look like him. You sound like him. You take care of your girl like he did. You even buy an old man a drink.” He lifts the glass. “Your father was a good man. A good man who made some mistakes, but you name me one that hasn't.”

  Very carefully I slide a hand onto Madden's and give it a stroke.

  Herman stretches. “Ehhhh I should go. The old lady is probably wondering why I'm not home in time for Peter's Precinct.”

  My eyebrows lift. “That cop drama?”

  “Yeah. She's in love with the captain. I'm just lucky the beautiful DA on the show is half my age and belt size.” He pats his gut. “Gives me something to look forward to during the whole thing. You two have a good rest of your night.”

  Madden and I simply wave.

  To my surprise the sorrow that I swore I saw just moments before has vanished. In it's place is a look of hunger. Desire. A need that has my pussy already offering itself up.

  My opinion doesn't matter? Is your body this disloyal?

  Instead of speaking he tosses a couple hundred dollar bills on the bar for their tab.

  I didn't even finish my wine at the restaurant. Guess my nerves are a little occupied with other things.

  Outside Madden leans me against the passenger door of his Hellcat, one arm pinned on each side of me. Playfully I use the tip of my tongue to tease his, both our mouths barely open. The animalistic groan that rips free causes my muscles to clench in anticipation of what's to come.

  His lips drop down next to my ear. “Panties off.”

  “No.”

  He pulls his face back to look at mine. Seeing the stubborn express he repeats, “Panties. Off.”

  I drape my arms around his neck and push my body into his. The action has him growling again. “No.”

  Two denials is too many. Swiftly his hands slip under my sweater dress, caress the outside of my thighs, and grab hold of the string he wants removed. With one hard tug the material tears.

  “Those were expensive!”

  The material falls to the ground. “Learn to fuckin' listen, Knox.”

  Turned on as much as I am pissed off by the combination of his words and gesture, I simply glare while he strolls around to his side of the car with a victorious smirk.

  Oh...This is far from over.

  We pull out of the parking lot and onto the main road in silence. With both of our bodies staying to our sides of the car the sexual tension between us bubbles heedlessly.

  At the first stop light we come to, I casually unbuckle my seat belt.

  Madden sighs, “Buckle back up.”

  Shaking my head, I spread my legs apart. The movement grabs his attention by the way his breathing seems to halt.

  “Knox.”

  I inch my dress up until my lower half is completely exposed for his enjoyment.

  His hands grips the wheel tighter.

  When the light goes green I say, “Drive...”

  Angrily he does so, the shifting of his gears harsh as he increases to a speed that lets me know my tactics are working.

  Yeah. I'll teach him to rip a pair of French designer underwear.

  On the highway, he grabs another glance, just as I trail my fingers to the one spot he can't quite have right now.

  Madden growls, “Don't do it.”

  My finger draws circles on my inner thigh as I mock, “Don't do what?”

  “Don't.”

  “Do this?” I circle it around my knee. “Or this?” Gliding it back towards my pussy causes him to accelerate. “Or don't do-”

  “Knox-”

  “This.” The finishing of the sentence is proceeded with my finger slipping inside the soaking wet area. Helplessly I moan, arch myself up, and shut my eyes.

  Okay maybe this was a bad idea because that feels fucking fantastic.

  There's an enraged curse from beside me. “Fuck!”

  Pleased at his unhappiness, I slowly pump my finger in out, losing myself in a reverie, my own finger mimicking the motion I know Madden's would, each thrust exact in intent. While the engines purrs act as the best accompanying vibrator in the world, I pant in unison with the building orgasm that's not sure it wants to wait for Madden's assistance.

  “Don't you fucking dare,” his voice threatens. “Don't you fucking dare make yourself come in my car.”

  A smirk creeps on my face. The pending release takes his words as a challenge. Uncertain if I can stop, but know I don't want to, I disobey his latest order and bring myself to the brink.

  Suddenly the car stops in an unanticipated manner. When my eyes lift open I'm stunned to see us parked in back of the apartment.

  That has to be record fucking timing.

  “Get out of the goddamn car,” Madden barks doing so himself.

  I grab my clutch and follow his command. The second my body is completely out of the vehicle, he slams me against it, purse falling from my grip. Without hesitation he frees his dick from his jeans, yanks up my dress, lifts up my left leg and shoves himself inside.

  On a whimper I profess, “Fuck, I'm coming.”

  A greedy groan breaks free from him. His hand moves to grip my leg tighter, his thrusts never wavering. In what some might consider a cruel fashion, he pounds harder. “You don't fucking touch yourself.” Overpowered by the ecstasy eradicating every nerve in my body, I simply softly cry my objection. While he doesn't change the frantic nature of his hips, he does move his free hand to grip the back of my neck. “You don't fucking come for anyone, but me.”

  Through a moan I manage to say, “Selfish bastard...”

  “You're fucking right,” he grumbles, my pussy trembling at his every word, ready to explode again. “My pussy.” The declaration has my body tightening at the inevitable. “My orgasms.” The next thrust manages to hit my clit at an angle that has proven in the past to set me off like the Fourth of fucking July if hit back to back. As if he's taken notes of every sex session we had, he repeats the movement and adds, “My McCoy.”

  The scream that seeps out is so loud I know I should be worried the world thinks I'm about to be robbed or murdered. While my brain logically commands that I quiet down my vocal chords refuse to submit. At the moment my praises transfer into erotic chants, a gust of fall wind fails in efforts to cool us down, but carries his name away for miles.

  A beastly roar ripples from him as he finally lets go inside of me. The sharp warmth triggers a small after shock of satisfaction to trickle through my system, echoing the earth shattering orgasms I just had.

  Seriously. Look at the ground for me. I think we put a dent in it.

  Out of breath, but not out of stamina by the way his semi hard dick twitches inside, Madden declares with a smirk. “Never. Learn. To listen.”

  On a light chortle, the back of my head hits the car. “Don't worry. I won't.”

  You've met me...

  Madden

  “Like married, married?” Wrench questions slamming the hood of the car he's working on. “We're not talking ring pop under the tree on the playground married?”

  “We're talking diamonds and courthouse,” I inform, wiping the grease off my hands. “Knoxie took the day to get it together and buy herself something to wear.”

  “Like a wedding dress?” Wrench says his voice still confused.

  Am I speaking fucking
Italian? What is his problem? You get me, right? I mean, you don't get the entire picture, but you will soon enough. No. Can't ruin anything early. Sorry.

  “Whatever she wants to marry me in,” I sigh as Destin comes to my side demanding my signature for a part that needs to be ordered. “She could marry me in a snowsuit as long as she marries me.”

  “But you guys just started dating. What...yesterday?”

  “Sunday,” Drew corrects leaning against the SUV he just finished running a diagnostic check on.

  “Are you sure this has nothing to do with her and Ash?”

  Just hearing it makes me grit my teeth.

  Blow me. Not any easier to hear.

  “Because you don't have to rush down to the alter to claim her again. It was, what like fifteen years ago. Plus, she didn't run away with him like he asked, so-”

  The information furrows my eyebrows. “Run away with him?”

  Wrench flinches. “She didn't mention that part either, huh?”

  I shake my head.

  And we're worried about me keeping secrets.

  “Technically they did just start dating Sunday,” Drew pipes in the conversation. “But Madden and Knox have basically been a couple since Salt-N-Pepa were huge.”

  Wrench scratches his chin. “Are we talking about the rap duo or the condiments?”

  “Trio,” Destin corrects. “They were a trio.”

  “But Madden and Knox are only two people,” Wrench argues.

  Another frustrated groan comes from me. “Shut up.”

  “My point,” Drew continues, “is that they really were basically a couple before this point, with a weird open marriage thing to them.”

  “I would never be in an open marriage,” I snap at my brother.

  The idea of sharing Knox since the dawn of fucking time easily turns all rational thinking into a moment from Thrilla in Manilla. Damn it! Now I'm making fucking throwback references.

  Wrench nods. “Which makes it easy to see how Ash got mixed in.”

  “Shops closed tomorrow,” I inform him, the instinct to stay away from the topic that could send me down a spiraling path running wild. “So, enjoy the day off.”

  “You don't want me at your wedding?” Wrench says in a hurt tone.

  With a pointed look I state, “Hey, you are more than welcome to come if you can keep your mouth shut. With everything.”

  That should be enough implication I don't wanna talk about his fucking half-brother any more.

  “And if you don't cry,” Drew adds.

  Destin agrees with his brother, “Definitely don't cry.”

  “I don't cry,” Wrench fights back.

  “You cried at A Walk to Remember,” Drew sells him out.

  “You cried at Toy Story 3!” Wrench argues.

  Drew tosses his hands in the air, “It was really fucking traumatic!”

  Destin extends his hand for a fist bump. “That was some tough shit.”

  I merely shake my head.

  Fucking pussies. Of course I didn't cry at that movie. I only watched it because it was on while we were having dinner. I didn't actively go out and rent it. Yeah...Knox cried. We made fun of her too.

  “Now that it's established none of you have a set of nuts, why don't you go ahead and head off for the day Wrench. We're just waiting on the last two ladies to be picked up.”

  “Yeah alright.” He shrugs. “I can go find something to wear to your wedding. What time you getting hitched?”

  “Around 1:30,” Destin answers after giving me a brief glance.

  Looks like everything is falling into place as it should.

  “We having a reception? There's gotta be food. I mean...it's a wedding thing or similar to it.”

  “We're gonna grab a late lunch or early dinner together before the two of them slip away for a honeymoon weekend,” Destin says slyly.

  Check that box for plan in motion.

  “Like the whole weekend? Who's gonna be in charge of the shop?”

  “You do know we can run this thing without him?” Drew defends himself.

  “No you can't,” Wrench counters.

  I lightly chuckle. “It's just the weekend. If Triple D or you fucks up that bad I'll throw your ass in the grinder on Monday.”

  Wrench rolls his eyes. “It's not gonna be that bad.”

  “Go,” Drew demands. “Before we fire you.”

  “You can't fire me,” he playfully disagrees. “Only Mad Man can.”

  When Drew's head swings to me, I give Wrench a hard look. “Anyone with the last name McCoy may fire you.”

  “Damn it,” he grumbles. “That means come Monday, Knox can fire me.”

  “She's gonna like that,” Destin laughs as Drew fist bumps him.

  The three of us watch as Wrench exits the shop, crawls on his bike he insists parking where he can see, and takes off. After giving the road a scan, seeing no sign of the customers who should be here any moment, I casually ask, “Is there any part of this plan that hasn't been confirmed yet?”

  Drew folds his arms, “I'll be finished with dummies tonight. Mel says the resemblance is so uncanny she's afraid of 'em.”

  No questions.

  “Just need a few more key words from you and Knox then I'm golden,” Destin informs. “Everything else is concrete.”

  An approaching engine has me nodding rather than verbally answering. Moments later Knox comes around the corner looking like every wet dream I've ever had.

  She looks fucking killer in jeans, boots, a tight sweater and my jacket.

  “Look who it is everyone,” Drew playfully announces. “The future Mrs. McCoy.”

  Knoxie shoots him a nasty glare, which only spurs him to laugh harder. “I was a McCoy before you could spell it.”

  “That's not fair,” Destin sighs. “He's a horrible speller.”

  The four of us chuckle before she knocks me with a kiss on the lips. “Hey you.”

  “Hey.” With a crooked smile I ask, “What's in the bag?”

  “You'll see soon enough,” she assures her tone dripping with inclination.

  As much as this marriage has two purposes, make no mistake. I am anxious to fuck her as my wife. No I won't call it making love. My nuts are still intact. Thank you for checking.

  “Mel is bummed she can't be there tomorrow,” Drew cuts through the sexual tension. “She's trying to keep a game face, but...”

  “What if I rig the camera in your cell phone so she can watch the whole thing?” Destin suggests. “I'm gonna Skype, Azura. So you're not alone on a digital date.”

  I offer both my brothers smiles of condolence.

  Neither of them are in the most ideal romantic situations, but fuck it. You do what you gotta do to make it work. Look at us.

  Drew nods. “I think she'd like that.”

  “Good,” Knox exclaims. “The more people who can see me in my dress. The better.”

  “So you are wearing a dress?” I question.

  “Of course I'm wearing a goddamn dress,” she snaps at me. “It's my fucking wedding day! What do you want me to wear a burlap sack?”

  My dick in her mouth would prevent her from further yelling.

  Groaning through her unnecessary attitude I change the subject. “Did you check on Grandma Maggie?”

  “Yeah.” Knox instantly softens. “She's fine. Her vitals are stable. She has no real memory of what happened over the last couple of days, so let's just keep it that way.”

  “You tell her?”

  “Yup,” she sweetly hums. “And while ideally I want her there, they recommend she stays where she is at least through the weekend. However she did say she thinks this is the best, early Christmas present ever.”

  There's a heavy ache in my chest. “You know if we could delay this-”

  “I know.” Pulling her braided hair to one side she nods. “I know.”

  For a moment our eyes linger.

  I know how much it would fucking mean to her, hell it would mean so
mething fierce to me too, but we can't wait. Not with the plan we agreed on. We can't wait for anything. There's no room for error.

  Drew clears his throat. “Why don't you two head upstairs with Destin to get that settled? I can deliver the keys.”