Madam Temptress

by Meghan March

  I hold up a hand to stop her there. “No wife. No kids. I fucking swear.”

  “And are you fucking with me about wanting to make this real? Or is everything else you said the truth?”

  I reach out and take her hands in mine before I meet her gaze. “Every goddamned word was true.”

  “Then why the hell did you wait fifteen years to come back and set things straight? Because one lie in the beginning doesn’t mean shit. But telling me you’ll be back and then disappearing for a decade and a half? That’s what I have a fucking problem with.”

  I should have known she’d want to know more, and she deserves it.

  “That job I said I failed to pull off and pay back Mount?”

  “Yeah.”

  I lick my lips. “I did some fucked-up shit when I found out it went sideways.”

  Her features sober. “How fucked up?”

  “I had a woman killed.”

  She doesn’t even flinch, but her stare is razor sharp as her chin rises. “And how did that keep you away for fifteen years?”

  “Her man . . . he wanted revenge. Any man would. But I couldn’t risk him taking you out to get even, and then he disappeared. It took me a long fucking time to hunt down that ghost, and when I did, I had to bide my time to handle it right. I needed to do it right, because I needed to prove that I wasn’t the man I used to be. I couldn’t come back to you until I was certain as fuck about that. We took care of it, though. Got creative and made it work for all of us. I know down to my bones that the situation is no longer a threat. I wouldn’t have come back if there was a chance that I’d be leading danger to you. Not after all this time. No way. No how.”

  Magnolia’s eyes grow even wider and more curious. “It took you fifteen years to make sure he didn’t come back and take an eye for an eye?”

  “Like I said, it was a complicated situation that required every skill I have at my disposal to end it the right way. But that’s not the only reason.”

  She shakes her head, and her pretty hair swings. “Out with the rest.”

  “After I delivered the hard drive—two weeks late—Mount kicked me out of fucking Louisiana. That was the late fee he demanded.”

  “Two weeks late,” she says quietly. “Because you stayed with me instead of going straight to him with the hard drive.”

  Finally, she’s understanding, and it’s like the weight of the past lifts off me.

  “Yeah.”

  “And you didn’t push me to leave with you because of the guy whose woman you had killed.”

  “It wasn’t the best plan. I’ll admit that all day.”

  Magnolia holds up a finger. “Wait. One thing I don’t get. Why did you risk coming back to Louisiana now if Mount banned you?”

  I meet her whiskey-colored gaze. “I was done waiting. I told Mount he could kill me or he could meet with me, but I was coming back all the same. We worked out a deal . . .”

  “And part of that deal was you telling me the truth?”

  It shocked me too. “I don’t know when the bastard turned all sentimental and shit, but he was adamant you know everything. And I was going to tell you. I was working it out in due time. There’s kind of been a lot going on.”

  Magnolia only hums instead of replying, and then she reaches for the door handle and climbs out of the car. I do the same, wondering what she’s going to do now.

  I don’t have to wonder for long, because she marches around the car to stand in front of me.

  She pokes me in the chest with a finger. “You listen to me, Moses Buford Gaspard. I do not give a single shit that you didn’t tell me the truth. Like I said, lying to me is not the worst thing you could do. But despite all that, you lie to me again about something that matters, and you’ll be fucking your hand for a month. You hear me?”

  Relief—sweet, sweet relief—floods my body as I wrap my arms around my woman and crush her against me.

  “You’d better fucking believe it. I won’t make that mistake again,” I whisper into her ear.

  “Good, because I’d hate to have to go hunt down someone else to get me off now that I’m used to the idea of good sex on the regular.”

  I loosen my grip and stare hard into her face. “No one touches you but me. Never fucking again. You better trust you belong to me and no other man.”

  Her lips curve up into a sly smile. “Then you’d better take me inside and remind me exactly why that is. Because a few orgasms would go a long damn way to smoothing out this situation.”

  Four

  Moses

  When your woman tells you a few orgasms are your penance for fucking up, you deliver like your life depends on it—and you make that shit memorable. I’d repent for days on end, if needed.

  I lift Magnolia into my arms and carry her through the house, ignoring the questioning looks from Jules and Trey, and kick the bedroom door shut behind us. “You need a reminder? I’ll give you one you won’t forget anytime soon.”

  I lower her to the bed, following her down with my body. That’s when she surprises me, hooking a leg around mine and rolling us until she’s on top.

  “Maybe I need to be the one to give you a reminder,” she says with a grin. “Just so you understand what you’ve got to lose if you decide to fuck this up.”

  “That ain’t happening, mama,” I tell her confidently. I’m not letting her go again. Ever.

  “It sure as hell won’t after I’m done with you.” With that, she moves down my body until her hands are on the waistband of my shorts. She drags them down, and my dick, already rock hard for her, springs free. “Damn, I love your cock. So thick and long and hard.”

  I can feel the look on her face—all heat and need—in my balls as she stares at my cock. All the blood in my body has officially changed direction, going straight to where her hand wraps around my shaft.

  “All for you, mama. And not that I’m fucking complaining right now, but I thought I was here to give you all the orgasms.”

  Her gaze cuts up to mine for a moment. “You’re here to give me whatever I want. And what I want right this minute is your cock in my mouth, so you remember exactly why it’s mine. Pay attention, Moby. Because this is a lesson you don’t wanna miss.” She readjusts her position, kneeling between my knees, and sucks the head into her mouth.

  Hot. Wet. And oh so fucking good.

  She’s right. There’s nothing about this I want to miss, and I’m done arguing. If this is what she needs, then she can have it. She can fucking have anything and everything I’ve got.

  And when she takes my entire cock down her throat, her nose pressing against my lower abs as she works it, I see heaven.

  Magnolia Marie Maison can have my fucking soul too.

  She sucks and pumps my cock until pre-cum drips down the head, and then she laps it up like it’s her reward. When she grabs my hand to jack my dick so she can suck my balls into her mouth, I almost come right on the spot.

  And that’s not fucking happening.

  I move, gripping her shoulders and dragging her up my body.

  “I wasn’t done,” she says with a pout.

  “Don’t care. I’m not about to finish before I’ve gotten you off even once. My turn, mama.” I lift her off me and roll over, pinning her to the mattress.

  “But—”

  “Shhh.” I strip her dress off and worship every patch of smooth skin I uncover, licking and sucking and kissing. “Like silk,” I tell her, glancing up to see her golden-brown eyes going hazy.

  “You’re a tease.”

  “I’m just getting started.” I work my way down her belly, pressing a kiss to the side of the bandage where her stitches are. “These okay?”

  She nods and runs her fingers over my cheek. “Can’t even feel them.”

  “Good. Bet you’ll be able to feel this, though.” I cup her center with my hand. “This is my cunt. Mine to eat. Mine to fuck. Mine to make come.”

  She rocks into my palm. “Then you’d better show it who’s bo
ss. Remind me who owns it.”

  A growl tears from my throat. “Damn right that’s what I’m going to do, and you’re gonna fucking scream.”

  “Prove it.”

  With that challenge thrown down, I press my mouth against the strip of lace separating that sweet, sweet pussy from my lips.

  “I love the way you taste. Makes me fucking hard every time I think about how hot and juicy this tight little cunt is. And, fuck, I think about it a lot.”

  Magnolia releases a moan of approval as I drag my teeth across her. “Fuck, I love your dirty mouth.”

  Flicking the lace aside, I swipe my tongue up the slit, catching her slickness and groaning at the taste. “You like my dirty mouth on this sweet pussy. That’s for damn sure.”

  Before she can reply, I devour her, tasting every sweet and tangy inch of her cunt. Teasing her clit until every muscle in her body is tight and begging to come.

  Magnolia’s hand brackets the back of my head, pulling me harder against her center, and I lash her clit hard with my tongue as I push a finger inside.

  Her inner muscles clamp down, damn near strangling it as she yells, “Moses!”

  Five

  Magnolia

  I don’t mean to scream his name, but I can’t hold back.

  The orgasm hits me like a runaway train, and tremors rip through my entire body. The pleasure is so powerful that one hand digs into the bedding as I try to hold on. My other hand anchors me to Moses, and he doesn’t stop. Again and again, he brings me to the edge and pushes me over until I’m nothing but thrashing limbs and sensation.

  My lungs heave as he finally lifts his head from between my legs. With my sex-fogged vision, I can make out his lips slick with my juices.

  The man looks like he just feasted and is still hungry for more. More of me. The intensity of his gaze lights me on fire. It’s need and want and worship all wrapped up into one, and everything I need in this world is written on his face.

  One lie isn’t shit compared to every action that has shown me Moses’s character, including that look in his eyes. This man might have come back to fuck me, but he didn’t come back to fuck me over. That’s not who Moses is. That’s not who he’s ever been to me.

  “I need you,” I tell him, spreading my legs wider.

  He climbs my body, takes my lips, and I taste myself as he lines up the head of that perfect dick against my entrance. And when he slides home, everything I need becomes clear in his intentions.

  He belongs to me.

  I belong to him.

  That’s just the way it’s gotta be.

  Afterward, I lie sated in bed with Moses’s big body wound around me.

  God, I missed this.

  Given my former line of work, moments like these were a rarity. I didn’t have sex for fun because it had always been a business transaction.

  But with Moses . . . sex had been different from the beginning. There was nothing businesslike about it. Those two weeks I spent with him taught me I could have sex for the sole pleasure of it. I’d never known before then.

  With that melancholy thought dragging down my postcoital bliss, I roll closer, soaking up the heat radiating off him like a furnace.

  I survey his face, the deep golden tan of his skin, and see lines around his eyes he didn’t have back then. He wasn’t a boy all those years ago—no, he was a man already—but now, the miles and wisdom he’s accumulated in the last decade and a half are etched on him.

  Similar to the way his initials have always been carved in the stone wall around my heart. M.B.G.

  Nevertheless, I’m sure he notices the signs of aging on my face too, despite how much time and money I spend trying to beat them back. I should probably welcome them with open arms, considering there were plenty of days when I wasn’t sure I’d make it to thirty-five.

  I wonder what would have happened if things had worked out differently between us. If we’d stayed together instead of life pulling us in different directions. Would we have made it this long?

  Who knows?

  Then again, I believe enough in fate that it doesn’t matter. Things work out the way they’re meant to be. There’s no point in second-guessing God’s plan, and all that.

  But I do know one thing. I’m not letting him go again. Because I’ve fucking missed him.

  “This mean I’m forgiven?” Moses asks, smoothing a wild lock of hair away from my face.

  “You don’t even need to ask, Moby.”

  He raises an eyebrow like he doesn’t believe me.

  “As soon as I found out you weren’t hiding a wife and kids—which, by the way, I would’ve killed you for and let Mount dispose of your body—I honestly didn’t care what you’d lied about.”

  The corners of his mouth curve up at my statement. “You’re a fierce woman, you know that?”

  “Never had much of a choice. I became the woman I had to be in order to survive, and then . . . thrive. At least, as much as I could.”

  “You’ve done a hell of a job,” he says softly, tightening his arm to pull me in closer to his body. “And thank you for your grace. I should’ve told you everything sooner, but I was too caught up in making you mine first.”

  “Well, you’ve got me now. Don’t you dare fuck it up.”

  At this, his face lights up with a wide smile. “You’re fucking perfect for me, Magnolia Marie Maison. I spent years wondering if I’d made it all up. How it was between us. How you were.”

  “And?” I ask, liking the warmth blooming in my chest at the idea of him spending years thinking about me. Because I did the same, despite my every attempt to block out his memory.

  He covers my mouth with his, pressing kisses to my lips as he murmurs, “It’s even better. Because we’re both older, wiser, and more comfortable with ourselves. There’s something about it I didn’t expect. It makes it all feel even more . . . real, I guess.”

  I know exactly what he’s saying. “I get you.” His stomach growls, and this time, I laugh. “Someone worked up an appetite.”

  “Keeping you satisfied is gonna cut down on the cardio I need, that’s for damn sure.”

  He drops his head back on the pillow, and I take a moment to appreciate the sculpted muscles of his body.

  “Whatever you gotta do to keep all this up, I’m fully in support of it.”

  “Same, mama. Same.” He grins and winks at me. “I guess I’d better see what’s happening for lunch.”

  I sit up, letting the sheet fall to my lap. “No. Let me. My turn to cook.”

  “You don’t need to do that,” Moses says, following my lead and sitting up. “I can cook, or Jules can, or we can order out. Trust me, you don’t want Trey anywhere near the kitchen, though. He’s a take-out-only kind of guy. He’d burn rice too.”

  “I know I don’t need to. Obviously, you’ve made it this long without me keeping you fed, but I’m in the mood for it. Don’t worry, I won’t poison you.” I shoot him back a wink as I rise from the bed, and Moses’s hand darts out, snagging my forearm.

  I glance down at him expectantly.

  “You’re incredible, Mags. And if there’s one thing I could do differently, it would be coming back a hell of a lot sooner. That’s my biggest regret.”

  Sometimes I’m unsure of how to react when he says things like that. I’ve never had this before, but I swallow my emotions and tip my head to the side. “No point in wishing for what’s already been and gone. Let’s make the most of what we have now.”

  He squeezes my hand and releases it. “Beauty and brains. A deadly combination. There will never be another woman like you, Magnolia. Never.”

  I straighten my back and right my posture under his praise. “I know.”

  Six

  Moses

  While Magnolia digs in the fridge, deciding what she’ll make, I sit across the table from Trey.

  I keep my voice low as I talk to him. “You gotta give me something, brother. We gotta put this bastard in the ground. I’m not letting him g
et a shot at Mags. We need information.”

  Trey bobs his head. “Dude, I know. I’m digging everywhere. I can’t find any record of family. Anything that would connect him to another person is missing. If he ever had family, it appears they’ve been wiped too.”

  My frustration escalates, because this isn’t a problem we’ve ever run into before. In this day and age, where everyone records their every thought online through social media, plus pictures and family affiliations, it’s easy to track down damn near anyone. Frankly, it’s a criminal’s dream. Your average person doesn’t think twice about what they share and how it could be used against them.

  Want to find a house to rob? Watch for people posting all their vacation pics. Then stop by during the day, in broad daylight, in a work van, wearing a collared shirt and a name tag, and no one looks at you twice.

  But this bastard isn’t some petty criminal, and we need to examine every angle.

  “Spend some time digging on Alberto Brandon. Mount told us this morning his wife was murdered the same night of the break-in at Mags’s condo. He’s the reason the Feds were watching the house. There’s a connection.”

  Trey’s brows shoot up to his hairline. “How was she killed?”

  “Throat slit.”

  “Damn. That’s ice cold,” he whispers, his fingers still tapping on the keyboard. “We have any idea who or why?”

  I crack my neck, annoyed at how the whole situation makes my body tighten. “Feds were watching the house because of him, and now his wife is dead. There’s something there, I just don’t know what. We need more info. Anything you can find.”

  Trey nods, lifting his hands from the keyboard to crack his knuckles. “I’ll hack the NOPD. Find out what they know about the woman’s murder. It has to be connected. I’ll check in and see what they’ve got on the break-in too. Maybe they’ve determined if the blood is animal or human yet. That might give us something.”

  I rise and tap the top of his laptop screen. “Thanks, brother. Work your magic. We need to get some answers quick so we can take care of this shit once and for all.”