Mad Love

by Ashlyn Mathews

  Having returned to my thoughts, I let the silence continue for too long, and Blaise takes it the wrong way.

  “We should get out before we become raisins.”

  Hurt on her face, and it cements what I believe of myself, that I’m not fit to be a husband to any woman. All I’m good for is making money and fucking women until they can’t think worth a damn.

  “Speak for yourself. I’m more of a prune.”

  The hurt disappears from her face, and laughter shoots from her. I chuckle, her happiness worth the cheesy-as-fuck line.

  “Thank you for the flowers and the card. I miss my grandfather very much.”

  “He was a good man.”

  “Yes.” She sinks further into the water. “Um, we should get out. Or at least, I should. This is awkward.”

  Agreed, however . . . “Is it only flesh on flesh that you don’t like?”

  “Yes.”

  I back up until I’m at the other end of the pool.

  “Come here, Blaise.”

  Without hesitation, she swims to me, her long black hair trailing behind her like a cape. With what she’s been through, she’s my superhero.

  Blaise is resilient, showing up for this long game called life rather than giving up and letting the darkness pull her down. She stops arm’s length from me, her hair floating around her face like the petals of the flowers in the bouquets I sent her. I get a crazy idea.

  “Can I touch your hair and only your hair?”

  “I’d like that.”

  Lowering herself into the water, she fans out the strands with her fingers and closes her eyes. I reach out and stroke the strands. Wrap my fingers around them. Gently tug.

  Her lips part, giving me a glimpse of the tip of her tongue peeking out from between straight white teeth. Her brows pull together in concentration. She’s beautiful, and when she moves her arms out of the water and does these soft strokes near my body, I see the gold of her ring and am reminded that she is my wife.

  “Blaise?”

  “Hmm?” Her eyes flutter open. Thick, dark eyelashes cling together, drawing my gaze to her eyes, one blue, one green.

  “How about my mouth on yours? Does that count as flesh on flesh?” As her husband, I take liberties with how much she’s willing to indulge me.

  Her dark brows angle low to her nose. “I’m guessing so? It’s, um, it’s pathetic, but I’ve never kissed anyone, so I wouldn’t know if it repulses me or not.” She stares at my mouth. “Should we try?”

  “I’m up for it if you are,” I tell her in a gentle voice. Never has a woman threatened to bring me to my knees with her insecurity and her confession as well as her innocence.

  “If I don’t like it, promise you won’t take it personally? I’m sure if I asked the women you’ve been with, they’ll say you’re the best kisser, hands down.”

  A lopsided grin from her and my heart does this weird somersault. I give Blaise my truth.

  “I don’t give two fucks what other women think. Your opinion is all that matters, baby.”

  Shy smile from her. “Baby. I like that. Beats darling.” She swims back to the other side of the pool, and resting on the edge, she crooks her finger. “Come closer, Maddox.” Same lopsided smile.

  This woman . . . She’s too charming and sexy for her own good.

  I swim over, and holding on to the edge of the pool so that our bodies don’t touch, I bracket my arms on either side of her. She tips her face up and closes her eyes. This is my chance to soak up her beauty.

  Long, dark lashes caress her pale skin. Faint freckles on the bridge of her nose, and a few scattered on her cheeks. Full red lips. A drop of water clings to the dip of her upper lip, and I long to flick away the drop with my tongue, jealous that it gets to touch her there.

  Except I can touch her. My tongue darts out. I flick at that drop of water. Press my mouth to hers. Groan at how soft her lips are. How salty she tastes. It’s her first kiss. Make it good. Her first kiss. Make it good.

  The words loop through my brain. I shouldn’t think so hard. Thinking ruins the moment. Takes away from how soft her lips are. How her whimper reverberates on my mouth. I move my mouth side to side over hers. Tunnel my fingers through her long hair, being careful to touch only the inky strands. She whimpers again. Opens to me.

  Blaise likes the kiss. Isn’t repulsed. Satisfaction courses through me, and I tug slightly on her hair, giving me better access to her mouth. I deepen the kiss. Taste the wall of her mouth. Tease her tongue with mine.

  The kiss starts off tentative, then exploring, but this explosion of heat and desperation that sears through me . . . I fist her hair in my hand and answer the fervor of her mouth on mine, her tongue tangling with mine, one kiss right after the other.

  Like me, is Blaise longing to feel something other than the ache of loneliness? It can be so fucking lonely at the top.

  In this moment, who gives a flying care? I’m all about making this the best first kiss for Blaise. I cocoon her head with my forearms and give her my all. Or is she the one giving me her best? ’Cause this is the best fucking kiss.

  I run the tip of my tongue along the seams of her lips. Suck her bottom lip for good measure.

  “Blaise, baby, Jesus, you taste good.”

  “I like you too,” she murmurs over my mouth, her eyes glazed with desire. “Since we didn’t have a proper wedding night, can I put in a request?”

  Curious, I nod.

  “Promise you won’t make fun of me.”

  “I’d never do that, unless you poke fun at me in return, pun intended.”

  To make my point, I stroke my erect cock. She isn’t put off by my crassness. Instead, she surprises me, covering her smile with her hand, her two-color eyes twinkling.

  “Okay, here goes nothing.” Her smile slips. She avoids my gaze.

  Blaise is unsure of my reaction to her ask, and wanting to reassure her that I’m true to my word, I reach out to caress her face, then remember flesh on flesh repulses her. My hand falls to rest against my side.

  Well, damn. We’ll have to find different ways around this repulsion of hers. Again, she surprises me when she comes up with the idea on her own. With her courage, this woman is giving the bastard who hurt her the middle finger.

  “Will you touch me using my satin sheet? No skin on skin. It’ll be me, you, and the satin.”

  How can I say no? I’m a selfish bastard through and through, and we bastards don’t like to give, but we certainly take and take.

  But when I’m through with Blaise, will I give her what I see clear as day in her eyes, hope for a way out of her lonely existence?

  Not likely. I am a selfish bastard, and I’ll make certain Blaise never forgets I’m not good for anything past what we agreed on—three months.

  Yeah, that’s all I’m willing to give her before I take everything, including the protection my name affords her, away. Just like my father did to my sister.

  12

  Blaise

  After we showered in separate bathrooms, I wait for Maddox in my bedroom.

  I would never move this fast with a man, but Maddox isn’t any man; he’s my husband. And I’ve changed my mind. I want his body.

  When he’s in the city, I’ll entice him into my bed. He’ll be so satisfied sexually, he’ll forget other women.

  Shutting out thoughts that an innocent and peculiar woman could never tie down a man who loves the women as much as they love him, I do what turns him on. I crook my finger and demand he come to me.

  It’s a side of me I don’t indulge in. My overconfidence and fearlessness are what had me wandering down an alleyway I shouldn’t have taken. I also shouldn’t have mouthed off to my kidnapper. It’s the reason he put me in that coffin. To scare the confidence from me.

  Thinking these morbid thoughts isn’t helping me convince my husband I’m the only woman for him. I mentally tell memories of my time with my kidnapper to take a hike. Otherwise, how could I seduce the cocky and domineering
Maddox Stassi?

  He comes to me fully clothed.

  I quirk a brow. He raises his own.

  “You’re dressed,” I point out.

  “Are you not?”

  I shake my head.

  He smiles. “Well, damn. I better rectify that quick.”

  He does a strip tease, this agonizing pace that heats me from the inside out. First, he undoes the buttons on his PJ top one at a time. Chiseled chest. Dark hair. Sinful strip of hair disappearing under the waistband of his pajama bottoms. I lick my lips. Press the satin into the wetness between my legs. He watches my every movement. Groans when I stroke myself through the sheet.

  “Do that often, babe?”

  Babe. Baby. I like them better than darling.

  Too turned on to speak, I nod. He comes closer but doesn’t lose the PJ bottoms that hang loose on his hips, giving me a mouthwatering view of his V-cut. My gaze dips lower and lingers on the outline of his erection. Maddox tsks.

  “Patience.”

  His voice is low, raspy. My sex throbs. My nipples tighten. My breasts grow heavy. I raise my arm under the sheet and reach for him. Maddox caresses up and down my arm over the sheet. Skims his fingers over mine. I tremble. Moan with longing. Whimper with need.

  “The noises you make. Jesus, Blaise, you’re sexy as fuck.”

  Maddox gets on the bed and keeps his weight off me with his arms resting alongside my head.

  Careful to not touch him, I slide my fingers under my hair and fan the strands out over the pillow. He takes the hint and sifts his fingers through the inky strands. Dark pieces of his fall over his eye, and I long to grasp the errant pieces between my fingers and press my lips to them. His damp hair would be like touching a blade of grass lined with dew from early morning.

  With his thick fingers in my hair, he lowers his hips onto mine. I gather the satin sheet in my hands and grasp his hips through the material. He is solid. Layers upon layers of muscle. Needing more wiggle room than the sheet can give me, I reach under my pillow, find the gloves I’ve hidden there, and slip them on.

  I cup Maddox’s face. Strum my thumb over the sharp edge of his cheek. His kind of handsomeness and sexiness isn’t soft lines and curves. Maddox’s face is a contrast of edgy lines and sharp edges. I find his granite bone structure fascinating and enviable. How can a man have stern features and be so mouthwatering?

  Using the flat side of my palm, I caress along his jawline. He closes his eyes and takes a shuddering breath. My touch did that? Gave him the expression of longing? Needing to make him feel as good as he’s making me feel with the bulge between his legs nestling in my heat, I glide my gloved fingers over his shoulders.

  “Hold my hand, Maddox.”

  He untangles his fingers from my hair, brings his hands low, and interlaces our fingers. His thick fingers stroking my small ones, his groan reverberating on my chest through the satin, how his thickness pulses along my folds . . . I tighten my hold on his hands, and lifting my head, I claim his mouth with mine.

  He opens for me and swallows my whimper and moan with his devouring kisses, taking me to new heights with his demanding mouth and how sweet he tastes. I need more. God, I need to feel his strength and the heat from his body.

  Using the sheet, I lift my legs and wrap them around his waist.

  “Please, Maddox,” I beg between kisses.

  “Blaise, I need to taste you, babe. Let me.”

  “Yes. Oh, God, yes.”

  He is the consummate pleaser, doing everything possible to make me feel good while keeping to not touching my bare skin. He lowers his head and takes first one taut nipple, then the other, in his mouth, his tongue leaving a wetness on the satin that clings to my skin in this tantalizing way that has me thinking of a cool breeze on heated skin.

  I can picture us making love out in the open. Skin on skin. His mouth on my skin. Someday, I hope we can do exactly that. I close my eyes. Smile. Someday.

  “That feels so good, Maddox.”

  My words spur him on. He grazes his teeth over my nipples. I arch my back. He sucks on the little buds. Blows on the wetness he’s left behind on the satin.

  “Can I taste you more?” He rests his head between the valley of my breasts, eyes darkened with desire.

  I’m a virgin. Have never kissed a man. But I know about oral and what men and women do to one another’s bodies to make the other shatter with pleasure.

  I nod. He goes low. Beneath the covers, I let my legs fall to the sides. Balanced on my elbows, I take in the sight of his dark head of hair between my legs. Eyes on me, he tongues my virgin opening. Licks along my slit. Laps up the wetness soaking through the satin.

  Moaning, I tip back my head. My arms shake. My thighs do too.

  “Blaise?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Have you ever had a man’s cock inside you?”

  “Never.”

  “Good. ’Cause mine is the only cock that will fill you full.”

  His words are possessive, and grabbing him by the hair, I push him into my heat. He mouths my sex. My sex weeps and throbs. I tunnel my fingers deeper in his hair. Guide his face over my sex. He tongues and mouths my clit and folds through the satin. Heat uncoils in my belly. My body trembles.

  “I . . . I’m close. So close.” I move my head side to side. Groan in frustration that I’m not ready for him to fill me full with his erection. He must’ve understood. His next words confirm it.

  “Give me your glove, Blaise. Let me help you come, baby.”

  Oh, his words. I love his words. My body on fire, I yank off one of my gloves and hand it to him. His hand is too big to fit inside my glove, but a finger or two is enough. He slides his finger over my arousal until the satin is shiny with my juices.

  I wait in anticipation of him slipping his thick finger inside me, stretching me. Instead, he licks my juices off the satin gloves, and I can’t stop the moan slipping from my mouth.

  “Too much?”

  “No, not at all.” I close my eyes. He slides his fingers along my folds, soaking up my wetness.

  I’m so turned on, I can wet the glove with my arousal.

  “Can I touch your cheek and your lips with the glove, Blaise?”

  “You want me to taste myself?”

  “Yes, but only if you want to.”

  “I do.”

  I open my mouth. He sticks one gloved finger inside. I run my tongue over his finger. Suck my flavor from the satin. Close my mouth over his finger. Suck up and down the length of his finger. Lick it like a lollipop. His groan is heat in my belly. I open my eyes.

  Maddox’s finger is in my mouth. His face is buried in my stomach. I reach down, and tunneling my fingers in his hair, I let go of his finger.

  “Too much?” I see him through a haze of desire.

  He yanks off the glove with his teeth. “Not enough. Jesus, Blaise, what you can do with your mouth.” He moves off the bed. Looks at the wet spots on the satin sheet. There are three. One over each nipple and a big wet spot over my sex.

  He stares at my sex.

  “Satin or silk panties, Blaise?”

  “Silk.”

  “Sexy choice. Put on a pair, baby.”

  13

  Maddox

  A call from the front desk with news of a visitor is not something I want to deal with after an unexpected night of making love to my wife in the most unusual of ways.

  Fuck, the satin sheet, the satin glove, her sucking her pussy juices off the satin, her silk panties, me mouthing her folds and sucking on her clit through the silk, her writhing on the satin sheet, her soft sigh of contentment as she came on my face . . . I can go on and on.

  In my pajama bottoms and with my coffee mug in my hand, I saunter to the door, not in a hurry to move this day along. Blaise is still asleep. With what she’s going through with her family, I leave her be.

  When Dad cast Gia aside, my little sis slept for days.

  At the door, I glance at the monitor mounted on the wall.
It’s a wide-angle camera including a back view of any visitors. Wouldn’t want surprises. My dad is on the other side of the door.

  I buzz him in, and he barges inside without so much as a polite greeting. Go figure. My dad isn’t into niceties or common decency. That went out the door when he made his first billion years ago. Money changes a man. I have first-hand knowledge. I’m aware of who I was and who I’m becoming. I’m more selfish. More of a prick.

  “Why are you here? Couldn’t you have called my secretary?”

  “The one I caught you fucking over your desk?”

  I smirk. “Yeah, that’s the one.”

  “Or maybe I should have called over to the gym first.”

  “The same gym where you caught me fucking the owner over her desk?”

  He clenches his jaw. “Keep it in your pants, Maddox. No need sharing your fortune with bastard children.”

  “Eloquent, Dad. By the way, those bastard children would be your grandkids.”

  He visibly blanches. Chuckling, I drink the rest of my coffee.

  “Again, why are you here?”

  “Your mother. She heard you married.”

  “Is that so? How is she?” I rinse off the mug and stick it in the dishwasher.

  The dishwasher is empty. So was the fridge when I went looking for creamer for my coffee. Huh. What has Blaise been eating? Or did she order in? I make a mental note to ask Blaise what she likes and doesn’t like food-wise.

  “Exploring all those damn historical old-as-fuck places in Greece. Well, is it true? Or is it more tabloid trash?”

  “I did marry.”

  “Who? When? Why weren’t we invited?”

  By “we,” he’s speaking of him and his latest girlfriend.

  “A week ago. Blaise Lexington. And because it was a private affair.”

  “The same Blaise Lexington who was left out of her grandfather’s will?”

  “Yes.”