Blaze: A Driven World Novel (The Driven World)

by Delaney Foster

  Oh. God.

  He slides his own finger in with mine. “Dear God.” He inches another finger inside, filling me, stretching me. It hurts, but I don’t ever want it to stop. “Are you always this…” He pumps in and out, making me moan and grip the edge of the table with my free hand. “Fuck.” He licks his lips. “So fucking wet.”

  “No. Not always.” Only for you.

  I arch my back and writhe against his hand, pushing him deeper inside. My finger slides against his two, in and out in perfect rhythm together. “Blaze…” It’s a moan, a plea, a freaking prayer. Please. He pulls his fingers out before I come then traces circles around my nipples, spreading my wetness all over me.

  “See this?” he asks as he traces more slow, wet circles around my hard peaks. “This is what I do to you.”

  I reach for the hem and tug his shirt up his body because I need this. I need him. Right now.

  He removes his jeans and boxer briefs in one fluid motion. My breath hitches at the sight of him, all slender muscles, toned stomach, and long, powerful legs. And his cock. God, his cock. Thick and long and… heavy. Beautiful, just like him. I file it in my memory along with his name because I don’t ever want there to be a moment when I can’t remember his cock.

  His gaze zeroes in on mine. “Fuck, Adrienne.” He bends down to grab a condom from his wallet then tears it open with his teeth.

  I’ve been on birth control since I was fifteen. My first foster mom insisted on it, and it had nothing to do with my period and everything to do with the stigma that comes with being a foster kid.

  “You came prepared.”

  He smirks. “I’ve been waiting for you to say yes since the minute I asked you.” He rolls the condom on his length. “It’s not that I don’t trust you. I do. I just can’t take any chances. I won’t…” Pain flashes in his eyes. Haley’s words come back to me. She was pregnant.

  I run my hand along his jaw and meet his gaze. “It’s okay. I get it.”

  He takes his sheathed cock in his hand and brings the tip to my clit, teasing me with the thick crown. Back and forth. Up and down. Over and over. Until I’m a panting, writhing mess.

  “Blaze. Please.”

  One plea is all it takes. He hooks my leg around his waist and thrusts himself inside me hard and fast. He doesn’t ask if he’s hurting me. He doesn’t go slow. He’s done holding back. His lips are everywhere, on my shoulders, on my collarbone, on my nipple while he squeezes my breast in his hand. He bites. Then he kisses. His tongue tastes and explores.

  The gentle is gone. This is carnal, rough, and God.

  He pushes into me hard, then slowly pulls out, all the way to the tip. Then pushes into me again. Every thrust, every slam of his body against mine, drives me closer and closer to the edge.

  “I’m going to make you come.” He drives into me. “Just like this.”

  I dig my heels into his butt, pressing him, urging him deeper. “Harder.”

  His teeth sink into my shoulder, and I feel his cock throbbing inside me. He ends the slow drive and pounds into me exactly the way I asked him to—hard. He holds me steady with one hand in my hair and the other digging into my hip. I tremble when it hits, the first ripple in the water. Then the waves come crashing with a warm rush. I don’t ever need anything else. This feeling, this sensation, is all I need for the rest of my life. I slide my hands around his back and grip his shoulder blades for support as the orgasm consumes my body.

  “It’s okay, babygirl. I’ve got you,” he says. His voice is soft and calm, the gentle to take the edge off the rough.

  He brings his mouth to mine. Then he breaks right along with me.

  Whatever happens tomorrow, tonight was worth it.

  Blaze wasn’t lying when he said he couldn’t promise tomorrow.

  I open my eyes to the sun peeking in through the cracks in the blinds. The morning air is cold against my naked skin, so I pull the comforter to my chin. That’s when I realize I’m alone—and missing a pillow. The side of my bed where his warm body slept last night is empty and cold now. He didn’t even say goodbye. My heart drops as I push up out of bed. The entire lower half of my body aches—in the best way.

  After he fucked me senseless in my living room, we moved to the shower where he could wash up and, of course, fuck me again. I bandaged his cut. Then we laid in bed, and he told me stories of how he started brewing his own beer and all these things about hops and malts and fermenting yeast. I didn’t understand any of it, but it was beautiful to watch him speak so passionately. I don’t remember falling asleep. I only remember how it felt to have my head on his chest, listening to the deep timbre of his voice and the rumble when he would laugh.

  I walk to the closet to slip into a T-shirt and some panties then head toward the kitchen to make a cup of coffee. My apartment feels so empty now without him in it. I look over at the floor by the sofa where the broken candle was. It’s gone now. All the evidence of Blaze sliding me on top of the sofa table has disappeared. My lungs grow tight in my chest.

  This feeling… The night he first rejected me has nothing on this feeling right here.

  You told him you could handle it.

  My phone buzzes on the kitchen countertop.

  Blaze: Little pig, little pig…

  Me: Did you just call me fat?

  Blaze: Just open the goddamn door.

  So, he didn’t leave. Well… he did. Just not for good.

  I unlock the door and open it a crack. He’s wearing a Carolina Panthers T-shirt, his jeans, and a navy-blue beanie. In one hand is a white plastic bag and in the other a green and white box. He smiles, and I open the door a little more.

  He stares at me, his eyes roaming from my face to my chest, down my body to my bare legs. Then he licks his lips, and his smile widens into this absolutely mischievous grin. “Morning,” he says.

  “Morning.”

  There’s a new dressing above his eye, a row of tiny white butterfly bandages holding the cut together replacing the gauze I put last night. He catches me staring at it. “Fancy, huh? I bled through the other one. The lady at Walgreens checked me out.” He smirks, this cocky smirk like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

  “I bet she did.”

  “You gonna invite me in? Or do I need to pull your sexy ass out here and fuck you in front of all your neighbors?”

  “If you’re quick about it, they probably won’t even notice.” I throw him a wink then grab him by the shirt and pull him inside.

  His gaze moves over my face. “God, you’re beautiful.”

  I’m pretty sure there’s a trail of dried drool on my cheek and bags under my eyes big enough to pack a closet. Who even knows what’s going on with my hair? But none of that matters because with one look, he makes me feel beautiful.

  He pulls me in for a kiss, and his tongue is minty and cool. “I used your toothbrush. Hope you don’t mind.” My face falls. He laughs and grabs my ass, pulling me closer. “Kidding. I used one of those tiny throwaway ones from the store.”

  Could he be any more perfect?

  “Then I stopped and got donuts.” He sets the white and green box on the counter. “The red light was on, so they’re good and fresh.”

  “It looks like you thought of everything.”

  “Yeah well. There wasn’t much I could do about your pillow. Apparently, Walgreens doesn’t sell those.”

  “What about my pillow?”

  “I bled all over it.” He opens the plastic bag and pulls out a candle. “But I did get you this.” He pulls out another one. “And a back-up. For next time.” He winks.

  He walked three blocks at seven-thirty in the morning. To Walgreens. To buy me a candle. This man. This man…

  That’s when it happens.

  My heart splits wide open, and I let Blaze Abbott inside.

  Brody meets me at the office later this morning, and we agree that it’s better if Kai doesn’t find out about the fight at the bar. He fills me in on everything Jake told hi
m.

  Blaze was right. “Mal” is a nickname, short for “Malice” which is his street name. His real name is Micah Davis, and he was brought up in foster care. After being bounced around from home to home, he finally ran away when he was fifteen and has been in and out of trouble since.

  This is why what we do is so important. This is why we want to make a difference. There are tons of great families out there with wonderful homes to foster children. Then there’s that handful, that ten percent—like me—who get thrown in the system and treated like a number, like nothing more than property. Mal may not have made the best choices, and he’s not a good guy, but my heart breaks for him nonetheless.

  When Jake and his partner arrested Micah, they found an unregistered weapon and six grams of heroin in his car. According to Jake, this is his second offense. He won’t be out for a long time—if he even makes it out. Jake said Malice has made a lot of enemies on the streets due to his blatant disrespect of gang territory rules and his treatment of women.

  I’m still trying to figure out how to tell Blaze. He already feels responsible for Micah’s fate. This will gut him.

  I leave Brody’s office and head to my own. I’m sure there are at least a dozen, if not more, emails I need to respond to along with a pile of papers on my desk that need going through. So much for saving the trees.

  Rosie stops me before I make it to the door. “Mr. Sullivan asked to see you, Miss Maddox.”

  Kai? Wants to see me?

  My stomach flutters with nerves. “Is he in the conference room?”

  “No ma’am, he’s in his office.”

  His office. No one ever gets invited to Kai’s office. My heart races. What if he knows about the fight? I haven’t told him about Mal yet. If I’m honest, I haven’t decided I’m going to tell him at all. He’s no longer a threat. Everything will be fine.

  I hope.

  The elevator opens directly into Kai’s private office. The floor-to-ceiling windows give him the perfect view of the Charlotte skyline and the Bank of America Stadium. There are bookshelves along one wall and a sofa on the other. Above the sofa is a painting, a ship on stormy seas by Rembrandt. The solid dark, wood surface of his desk is completely uncluttered, aside from a framed photo of his wife. It’s exactly as I imagined it would be.

  “Come in.” He smiles from behind his desk. Cool, calm, and collected. As usual. “Close the door.”

  I’m not afraid of much, but Kai intimidates the heck out of me. One morning, I got to work super early. I met Kai in the elevator. It looked like he’d just finished a morning run, gray sweatpants, damp hair, and a black T-shirt hugging his pecs. He was sweaty and breathing hard as he wiped his face with a towel and downed a bottle of water. Whenever I start to feel small in his presence, I picture that guy instead of the one in the three-piece suit. It usually helps.

  Not today.

  Today, I’m petrified.

  “How did it go with Levi Abbott the other night?” he asks once I’m inside.

  I exhale a sigh of relief. This is about Levi. Thank you, Jesus. “Great. He’s excited about being a sponsor. He even invited the boys to one of his races.”

  He steeples his fingers and leans his elbows on his desk. “I trust you’ll be going with them.”

  I have a sinking feeling the less I have to do with Levi Abbott, the better.

  “I think that’s an experience Brody would appreciate more than I would.”

  Kai leans back in his chair and brings his hands to his lap. “Brody is welcome to join you. But Levi specifically requested to work with you, Adrienne, and he’s a sponsor—a very prominent one.” He pauses to study me. Did I wince out loud? “This could be the difference between being able to open more houses and not. We can’t rely on CD Enterprises forever. We need another reliable source of funding, and this could be it. This is important. I need you on board.” He leans forward, resting his forearms on the smooth wood. “It’s one race. That’s all I’m asking. If he makes any other requests, I’ll figure something out. Can you do that for me?”

  He’s right. The system oftentimes fails foster children due to lack of funding. There simply isn’t enough money out there. I believe in Corporate Cares. I believe in what we’re doing, and I’m well aware of the statistics. I won’t let these kids become one of them.

  You are solely responsible for both your success and your failure. — Quote number one-hundred seven in the journal.

  I think about all the things Kai has done for me in the past and all the secrets I’m keeping from him about Liam and Mal. He’s asking me to hang out with a bunch of kids and Brody while we watch race cars make laps around a track. We probably won’t see much of Levi anyway. If Kai is right and this sponsorship could mean being able to open more houses, how can I say no to that?

  “Yes. I can do that,” I say with a smile.

  Blaze will just have to understand.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fucking fuck of all the fucks that ever fucked.

  I let the one thing I swore to myself—and to Adrienne—would never happen, happen.

  I spent the night. I slept in her bed, woke up and laid there like an idiot staring at the way the sunlight made her skin glow. Like some kind of goddess. A motherfucking sex goddess who I’d spend the rest of my life worshipping if I was able.

  Then I went to Krispy Kreme and bought her donuts. Everyone knows donuts are sex food. Sweet, sticky glaze, warm, soft dough that seems to melt the minute it hits your tongue, a hole in the center and—fuck me—the sound she made when her teeth sank into that first bite. God. Definitely sex food.

  She dropped me off at the brewery on her way to work. My car was still parked exactly where Hector and I left it when he dragged me to Shooters last night. And to think I almost didn’t go…

  All day long I find myself smiling at the most random shit. Liam is on one ladder putting the last coat of varnish on the wood ceiling, and I’m on the other doing the same.

  Dip the brush. Coat the wood. Smile at the memory of her voice. I want you to make me scream.

  Climb down the ladder. Move the ladder. Smile at the memory of the way she chewed on her bottom lip while she put the bandage over my cut.

  Lather, rinse, repeat. All day long. Until I convince myself that last night and this morning were flukes, one-time events. There’s no way that kind of chemistry, that kind of magic, will happen again. I came out of a three-year dry spell. Of course it was going to be phenomenal.

  I can’t fall for her. Lightning doesn’t strike twice. You only get a once-in-a-lifetime love once in a lifetime. You can’t run from karma. I learned that the hard way last night when I saw Micah.

  Not long after Micah was taken away when we were kids, my mother suggested I go to therapy. She said it would help me “cope.” I didn’t need to cope with what happened to Micah. I needed to fix it, to make it right. I made a vow to myself that if I ever found him again, I’d do exactly that.

  “Some people can’t be fixed.” That’s what Hector said this morning when I told him the sordid details of what went down last night and why.

  Bullshit.

  That’s something people say when the road looks rough, when the mountain looks too big to be moved. The truth is, everything is fixable in its own way. Some people are broken. Hearts get broken. Relationships get broken. Candles get broken.

  Sometimes the best way to fix broken things is to rebuild them. It may not look the same when you’re finished, but that’s not the point. Sometimes you replace them—not necessarily with something better but with something different. Sometimes the best thing is to leave them alone and simply admire the beauty in their brokenness. Like the colorful mosaic of stained glass in a cathedral, broken can be beautiful. Then sometimes… sometimes… the best thing to do is take their broken pieces and put them with your own and build something completely new.

  To say the best thing to do with someone’s brokenness is to ignore it… That’s shit. Complete shit.

  It’s almost
five o’clock, and Liam will be leaving soon. We put the finishing touches on the ceiling then have a seat at the bar. I pour us two glasses of Sprite, our end-of-the-day routine. He gulps down the first one the way he always does. I’m learning his habits, his quirks, and all the little nuances that make Liam Liam. Damn, I’m going to miss this kid.

  “You sure you don’t need me to do anything else, Mr. Abbott?” he asks as I pour him another glass.

  “Blaze.” I slide the glass across the bar, and he smiles. “I’m not old enough to be Mr. Abbott.” Or rich enough, or arrogant enough, or selfish enough. Mr. Abbott is my father. Me? I’m just Blaze. “And I’m sure. We gotta leave it to the professionals now. This whole thing would end up lopsided if I tried to do it.” I laugh and ruffle his hair. “That probably wouldn’t be good for business.”

  Liam chuckles into his straw, causing little bubbles to fizz in his drink. Haley’s car comes into view through the glass doors, and my heart pinches. I’m not ready to say goodbye. From the way his head falls and his gaze drops to the floor, he isn’t either.

  “Remember when I said you could come play basketball?”

  He looks up at me. “Yes, sir.”

  “Why don’t we start next week? I’ll see if Adrienne can bring you and the rest of the boys, and we’ll play some two-on-two.”

  He smiles a broad smile. “That would be awesome.”

  Seeing Liam again and spending more time with Adrienne? Yes. That would definitely be awesome.

  It’s been four days since I last saw Adrienne. Four days since I touched her. Four days since I heard her voice. Four days since I buried my dick in that wet, hot place that would have men like me going to war for one more taste. Not because I haven’t wanted to. Not calling her is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do, but giving her the wrong idea about what this is would be worse. Instead I remind myself she said hearts and flowers and good morning texts aren’t her thing anyway. That’s why this works. That’s why we work. The hard part is convincing myself we’re not both in denial.