Into the Madness

by A. K. Koonce

And now I’m here. Striking out that line and rewriting the goddamn definition of platonic. My self-control is thread thin, and now it’s all unraveling right before my eyes.

  Her head lifts, and I’m drawn to follow her. My head tilts down to hers. I find my fingers threaded into her thick red hair. Big green eyes look up at me, holding my gaze as her fingers start skimming down the lines of my abdomen all over again.

  We give each other hesitant, consuming touches without ever saying a word. Because if we speak, I’ll piss her off, and she’ll make me crazy, and all of this will be ruined.

  So we never say a word. But our bodies connect in a way words would never allow.

  My palm slides back up the length of her leg, my thumb skimming back and forth along the line of her silk underwear. Her lips part, half an inch from my own, but she never looks away from me. Back down my palm glides, taking in every inch of her creamy thigh before pushing back up to the heat of her pussy.

  I’m not a good guy.

  I’m not responsible. I’m not honest. And I’m clearly not fucking smart.

  Because my fingertips dip, sliding beneath her panties with the smallest move. Heat flares to life in her pretty eyes, and my fingers part her wetness, slipping down her wetness for just the shortest amount of half of a second.

  Until my least favorite fucking Rebel Heart speaks.

  “My, my, how the turns have tabled. You could cut the tension in this room with a spork,” Lighton theater whispers, his arm brushing against mine from where he lies on his side right fucking next to me like we’ve somehow coordinated the world’s most awkward threesome.

  I pull my hand back, disengaging entirely from Madison as I push out of the bed, shoving Lighton to the floor in the process. The bastard casually lies there flat on his back with a smile. He pushes his hands behind his head and just gets comfortable on the floor.

  What pisses me off most is knowing he can’t vanish into places. Therefore, he’s been here for a while. Watching.

  Madison’s chest rises and falls with heavy breaths that match my own. My dick’s still rock hard in my jeans, and I can still feel how wet she was against my fingertips.

  And all of that was ruined because Lighton has zero understanding of personal space. He’s been here since the day he arrived in Wanderlust, and he honestly is making no sign of leaving.

  It’s like he can’t stand to be alone.

  And I should probably be thanking him in this moment.

  Because I crossed a line.

  “She needs her rest.”

  “I bet she does,” Lighton says with a smirk.

  I pull a shirt from my drawer and, as always, simply ignore my uninvited guest.

  “I have to meet with the King, but try to rest.” Madison nods quietly to me, and I stand at the stairs, feeling more awkward than I ever have in my entire fucking life.

  My hand was against her pussy thirty seconds ago, and now I can’t even manage to make direct eye contact.

  Fuck.

  I pass a single glare at Lighton. He waves happily, and I curse him the entire way to the castle.

  I curse him as well as thank him.

  Twenty-Three

  Madison

  There’s an ache between my thighs like I never could have imagined. I’m a virgin, but I’m far from innocent. The moment I was told I was in remission, I wanted a normal life. A happy life. And yeah, I wanted a sex life.

  I craved normal the way most people crave the extraordinary.

  I was one awkward Lighton comment away from having my first real sexual experience. With a guy who actually wanted me and, more importantly, could find a vagina.

  I could see it though. Kais can pretend to be my guide and advisor all he wants, but something in him cracked this morning. I could see the want in his eyes.

  He’s a good guy, sure. But he’s also a rebel. There’s a rebellious streak in him.

  And I want it.

  “I brought you something,” Lighton tells me, inching closer to me as he settles in against the headboard.

  Unless it’s an orgasm, I don’t want it.

  It’s a petty thought but an honest one.

  He pulls a small container from his pocket. The silver lid shines in the sunlight, and I wince when he bumps his shoulder into my side, sending searing hot pain shooting through my ribs.

  He’s gentle when he turns to me, opening the little canister for me to see the thick salve inside.

  “Rotter said you were hurt,” he whispers.

  I peel the hem of Kais’s shirt up and reveal the rope-like bruises lining my abdomen. I’m more exposed to him than I’ve ever been in just my underwear and a t-shirt, but all he focuses on are the parts of me in pain. His eyes widen, trailing over each mark covering my skin.

  “Shit.” His longer fingers dip into the canister, and he lightly applies the ointment to the darkest bruises along my ribs, the cold metal of his bracelet skimming over his work just lightly. “Trilune is a wild healing plant. Like everything else here, it only grows in Wonderland.”

  “How’d you get it in Wanderlust?”

  He pauses for a single second before continuing.

  “I have a source.” He glances at me out of the corner of his eyes but quickly brings the subject back to the medicine. “It’s rare, but we don’t need to use much. It heals at a rapid speed.” His whole palm skims over my navel, rubbing slowly against my skin, along every bruise from my toes all the way back up to the now pale purple bruises along my stomach. “Your ribs will be the slowest to heal, I think.”

  “Were you really a doctor?” I ask on a quiet breath, his hand settling heavily on my abdomen. He leans closer until his chest is against my shoulder, and very little space separates me from him right now.

  So I see it when his amber eyes darken, lashes lowering to avoid my gaze.

  “No. I worked security for a corporate bank actually. It wasn’t as interesting as anything Cat or Brody said.”

  “That’s a good job. Don’t make it sound meaningless. I bet you were really sexy in uniform.”

  He cracks at that. A smile pulls at his lips, and it warms me the way he smiles so easily.

  “How’d you end up here?” I tilt my head at him while he works.

  The smile fades. He doesn’t meet my eyes again, continuing to tend to all the little bruises that are healing right before my very eyes.

  But all I can focus on is the pain in his gaze.

  “Light?” My hand settles gently over the back of his knuckles.

  “I’ve just—I stopped drinking a few days after we talked at the falls, and everything’s just a little harder to process, I guess.” He tries to pull back, but I keep his hand held in mine.

  “You stopped drinking?”

  Because of me? Because of what I said?

  He nods quietly.

  “Three years ago, I was in a car accident. The truck blew the light and just demolished my passenger side.” There’s a small pause that has me curling into him from the empty look in his eyes. “My nine-year-old sister was in that seat.” My breath cuts off as pain presses in on my lungs, and I know he hasn’t even said the worst part yet. “She lived. She’s been in a coma for three fucking years.” His arm slips over my stomach so that he’s holding himself above me in the most intimate way. My fingers slip through his hair, and I stroke through his locks, trying to comfort him even as his eyes get this faraway look in them.

  The odd silver bracelet…is it hers?

  “Alcohol was never a problem for me in the surface world. But it is what led me here. After I visited her on her birthday last year—with no improvement to her condition—I got black out drunk. And I woke up here. I’m here in a fairy tale land. And she’s still there. Still the same. Because of me.” He swallows hard, and I pull him down against my chest, holding him to me to comfort him as well as myself.

  I know now why Lighton doesn’t want to feel the life he’s living. The life he’s living is miserable, riddled with memori
es and guilt.

  “I’m fine, Cupcake.” He pulls back from me, not letting me hug him and hold him.

  “You’re not fine, Lighton. You’re allowed to feel pain.”

  Anger like I’ve never seen before slips into his eyes.

  “Yeah. I am. And I fucking hate it. I don’t want to feel it. I don’t want to feel…anything.” A tremor cracks through his voice, and he almost pulls away from me entirely.

  Until I lean up into him, never letting him go. A beat passes. He stiffens when his attention drifts down to study the small distance between our mouths. His hands settle right back in place on my hips, and I instinctively lower my hands to his shoulders.

  “You don’t want to feel anything?” I whisper, letting my words fan against his lips.

  He blinks at me as if he doesn’t really know how to honestly answer that. The hamster that’s been vacationing away from the wheel in Lighton’s head has now come home, and he’s apparently more careful with his words now that he’s sober.

  It makes him silent more than he used to be.

  “If you feel nothing all the time, you miss out on the best things in life.” My chin tilts up, and he doesn’t even wait for me before pressing his lips deliberately over mine, kissing me so slowly it’s like he’s making up for all the numbness he’s felt for the last twelve months.

  Or maybe longer.

  One of his hands sinks into the mattress while his other hand snakes around my waist, holding me against him until my thighs part and he settles his hips perfectly against my silk panties.

  I’m briefly aware that three different men have touched these very lucky panties in the last twenty-four hours. Apparently, the normal sex life I’d hoped for is setting the bar too low. Somehow, I’ve fallen into the option of an extraordinary sex life and there’s no going back now.

  If sex was an Olympic sport, I’d be going for gold with #1 printed across the ass of these lucky panties of mine.

  He pulls back from me just as his hips rock into mine, and heavy breath fans between us just before he quickly speaks like it’s the most urgent thing he’s ever said. “Did Kais get you off?”

  “I—” My pathetic little voice trails away as I shake my head no. I can’t believe I’m ready to jump his dick, but I can’t actually talk about it. My body and my smutty mind have been ready for this moment for years, but articulating the dirty thoughts seems to be too much for me.

  He stills completely. “Has anyone ever gotten you off, Cupcake? Anyone ever whipped your cream?”

  “Please, never say that again.”

  That sexy smile tips his lips again.

  “I can go soft if you need it. Go slow. Hard. I can be whatever you need, Madison. Just tell me.” His low rasping tone is like sex itself.

  Once again, my lips part, but no filthy words slip out, and nervous thoughts start to drift through my mind, forcing anxiety to press into this perfect moment.

  I wanted this so badly, and now it’s here and I can’t stop thinking. Oh no, what if I end up like Konstance, thinking the female orgasm is a myth, because I can’t shut my mind off long enough to let Lighton make me feel good?

  That’s the thing though. Lighton cares about making me feel good. He cares about me.

  What about my future husband?

  Deep amber eyes search over my face, following the furrowing of my brow and the downturn pull of my lips.

  “What’s wrong?” He hovers so close, keeping his mouth close to mine like he might claim it again at any moment.

  “What if…” I breathe out the pent up tension in my chest and force myself to ask the ridiculous question that might ruin this perfect moment. “What if once I’m…blissfully married, the King doesn’t care enough about me to get me off? What if I’m completely miserable for the rest of my life?”

  “That’s impossible. Women like you don’t sit down and let life pass them by.” He licks his lips, his gaze slipping down to my mouth again. “As for the King, don’t ever depend on a man to take care of you like that.”

  My eyebrows pull together even harder. Lighton phrases things in the most unique and bewildering way. Even when he’s sober.

  His mouth stays in that perfect white smile of his, but he shifts, sitting up against the headboard once again and leaving me confused and alone at his side.

  “Come here.” He lifts his hands, and I sit up slowly. He watches me with quiet attention, and the moment I kneel at his side, he grips my hips and pulls me down onto his lap so I’m straddling him. Big hands clasp low on my hips, skimming over my ass as he adjusts me until my core is firmly against the thick outline beneath his jeans.

  “That feel good?” he asks in a low rumbling tone.

  I lick my lips and nod.

  “Good. Now make it feel even better.”

  My mouth stays parted, stunned and unsure why this feels like a test right now.

  All I wanted was for Lighton to fuck me. Now I’m doing this pass/fail dry fucking that’s making me way too anxious to even focus on how good his cock feels against me.

  My vagina really is broken.

  “What feels good for you?” I finally ask, settling my palms against his strong shoulders.

  “Don’t worry about what feels good for me. Make yourself feel good, Madison, and I promise if it feels good for you, it’ll feel fucking amazing for me.”

  I nod slowly, and his hands grab me hard, forcing me to grind back and forth against his dick. He stops controlling me the moment my lashes flutter closed. Then I’m riding him, pressing myself against him just right until the rough feel of his jeans and the hard outline of his cock slide so perfectly against the silk material of my panties. My breath catches when his cock grinds against my clit just right.

  His hips barely move; he lets me use him just how I want. And I take everything I never knew I needed. His beard scrapes against my skin just before he seals his lips to the low curve of my throat, sucking lightly and then raking his teeth there hard. The palms of his hands slip under my shirt, blazing a path along my ribs before covering my breasts through my bra, squeezing hard, kneading with both palms.

  Everything he does is strictly for my pleasure. He wants me to come more than I do, I think, but all I can think about is how many layers separate his skin from mine.

  “Take off your shirt.”

  I fumble between us, and he stiffens as I start to push the button of his jeans aside.

  “Madison, it kills me to say this, but I can’t fuck you.” His voice is pained, his eyebrows tensing like it’s the worst thing he’s ever had to tell anyone.

  Five minutes ago, he was grinding my pussy against his dick, and now he’s remembering my virtue?

  I hate my hymen right now. I never thought that’s something I’d say, but here we fucking are.

  “Well, you can still…make me come.”

  I’m suddenly able to vocalize all the dirty thoughts in my head now that his dick is against my core. It’s like my sex drive has found my voice box and is now using it as a mega phone to signal Lighton to a direct path to my orgasm.

  He coughs hard, his eyes widening as a slow smile pulls across his lips. “Yeah. I’ll make you come as much as you want, Cupcake. It’d literally be my pleasure.”

  I stand abruptly, and when I shove my panties down my thighs, his lips part, his eyes heating.

  “I can’t fuck you.” He says it like it’s just now sinking in. “I can’t. I can’t fuck you. Fuck. I can’t fuck you.” His head tilts back, banging against the headboard loud enough to make it shake. Frustration lines his face when he looks at me once again. “Come here.” He pushes his jeans and black boxer briefs down in a quick rush and reaches for me.

  The hard length of his dick arches up toward his stomach, and I’m suddenly all too aware of how innocent my body is despite my dirty mind. I stand frozen in my spot, my thighs shifting, urging me forward. It isn’t until I look up into his sweet brown eyes that I finally take a step forward. Warmth slides over my ar
m as his gentle touch pulls me closer. He’s patient and in control the entire time. If he’s anxious like I am, he doesn’t show it.

  It’s like he’s done this a thousand times.

  He’s over six feet tall with waffle abs, for fucking sexy’s sake. He probably has done this a thousand times.

  Why did I just think that?

  My sex drive flips my logical mind the bird because we don’t need that kind of negativity in our life right now.

  When I settle above him, his palms skim slowly up my thighs, over my bare hips, along my ribs, and he doesn’t stop until he slips my shirt all the way off. He leans forward, bringing me nice and close, his hands slipping up my spine, and just like that, he steals away the last article of clothing that separated his body from mine. The bra falls to the floor. The hard planes of his chest skim against my nipples. He keeps his gaze locked on mine, watching me carefully. When I lower my slickness against his cock, he brushes his lips against mine.

  Slowly I slide my sex against his shaft, grinding over him just as I had before, but it feels a thousand times better with his bare skin against mine. I feel every rigid part of him against the most sensitive part of me.

  “That feel good?” he asks on a groan.

  I nod, my breath shuttering out on a gasp.

  “Good. Now make it feel even better.” His lips slam hard onto mine, and the gentle way he kissed me before isn’t anything like the fervent way his mouth is moving against mine now. His tongue demands mine, and I moan against him as my hips start to rock faster and harder against his.

  The rough feel of his beard abrades my skin before his lips press a path down my throat. His hips flex just slightly at first as if he still doesn’t want to interfere in me using him. But the longer I slide my wetness against him, the more he thrusts to meet my clit just right.

  It isn’t enough. I want more. I want him filling me completely. But I’ll take what he can give me. I’ll take every part that Lighton is willing to give.

  And fuck is he a giver.

  “Lighton.” His name is a breathy, thoughtless whisper that forces from my throat, making him groan against my neck. My nails dig into his skin, holding him to me because he’s the only thing I have in this entire world when it starts to tremble. My body, my lashes, my world as I know it, shakes as my first orgasm spirals through me.