Page 57 of Made
Shit, was that too much after what she just told me?
She arches an eyebrow. “Did you just say you love me?”
Shitfuck.“Yeah, I did. I do. But there’s no pressure to say it back, baby.”
She smiles, big and heartfelt, and it is the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen. It’s like the sun coming out after a terrible storm. “I don’t think it was the orgasm talking the other day, Mad. I love you too.” She edges closer, her head nestled onto my chest, and I’m filled with happiness and relief as I kiss her curls. It dampens down the intense rage I feel for her father and what he did, enough that I can push that to one side for now.
“Promise you won’t feel sorry for me,” she says, her voice quiet.
I understand where she’s coming from. “Okay, but I can’t promise not to feel angry at your father, or sad for the girl he should have protected. But I absolutely don’t pity you, baby. I promise that I see you as the strong capable woman I have always known you to be. I promise that I won’t treat you any differently.”
“Good. Because I’m not made of glass, and I won’t shatter. Sex with you kind of rocked my world, and I’d really like to do it as frequently as possible.”
She kisses the tattoo on my chest, wriggling her ass against me. Shit. My cock jerks against her in response. She hooks a leg over my hip, straddling me, only my boxers and sweatpants between me and her bare pussy. “Show me how much you still want me, Mad,” she says, her breath dusting over my face.
I grind my hips, rubbing my solid length against the heat of her pussy. “Baby, you can feel what you do to me. I’m hard for you pretty much 24/7. I will never not want you. Now show me how much you want me.”
She obliges immediately, eyes shining with delight as she works her hand into my boxers and frees my aching cock. With her hands on my shoulders, she slides herself onto me, taking me inch by tantalizing inch, until I’m fully seated inside her. She feels like heaven. Hot and wet and snug as fuck.
“Is that what the kind of showing you were thinking of, sir?” she purrs, rolling her hips over me and squeezing my dick like a vise.
“Yeah,” I grunt out the word. “Christ, you’re fucking soaking for me, El.”
I pull the T-shirt off over her head again, suck one of her pebbled nipples into my mouth, and give her a gentle bite that makes her whine. This girl is mine, and I will never let anyone hurt her ever again.
Chapter 24
Maddox
Ellie and I worked through all of our issues last night in the best possible way—by having fucking spectacular sex for six hours solid. Even after that, I still woke up a few hours later with a hard-on. Ellie was asleep, lying peacefully in my arms, while I had the most filthy thoughts about her. Being the incredible woman she is, she eventually woke up, murmuring my name. Then she snuggled in close and discovered my problem.
Except she didn’t see it as a problem. She saw it as an opportunity and slid down beneath the sheets to take me into her mouth.
My girl gives the best head I have ever had in my whole damn life.
She really is incredible, and I can’t get enough of her.
She’s gone to work now, and I should be working too. The investment bank has asked for a few follow-up details to my proposal, and I need to provide them. Except I can’t concentrate. My mind just keeps wandering back to Ellie. I imagine going to her office and fucking her on her desk, or up against the window like we discussed.
I talk myself out of that because I know she’s busy too, but then immediately I think about meeting her after work and getting her home and naked again straight away. The thought that we haven’t even planned anything, that I haven’t asked her if she wants to see me tonight, is an irritating technicality.
Except it isn’t. I’m obsessed with her, and it worries me. I have an addictive personality. I don’t totally understand it. Some complex mix of genetics, psychology and life experience, I guess, but it’s just how I’m made. It’s why I go to meetings. It’s why I don’t drink or do even the most innocent of recreational drugs. I take this so seriously that my goddamn leg would have to be hanging off before I’d even take a Tylenol.
The way I’m feeling about Ellie right now is familiar. I’m obsessed. All I can think about is my next fix—except this time, it’s not cocaine or booze. It’s her. It’s Ellie Madison. Have I swapped one addiction for another? And is that fair to her?
I have no clue, and I don’t want to talk about it at my meetings. It feels too personal somehow, sharing Ellie with a roomful of strangers. I throw down my pen. Not like I was making any progress on my paperwork anyway. A glance at my watch tells me it’s only ten fucking a.m. She hasn’t even been gone that long. I was inside her a little over an hour ago, and I’m already thinking about how to get there again. I don’t understand what’s happening to me.
I need help. I get out my cell, which I’m slightly more familiar with, and send out an SOS to my brothers. We rarely do this, but all of us respond when we do. It’s like the Batphone—only to be used in dire emergencies. One by one their replies come in, with Elijah finally taking charge and instructing us all to be at Mulligan’s at one. He’s booked the back room so we’ll have our privacy.
I turn up slightly late. I had to have several cold showers before I got out of the house, or I would have walked into the pubwith a raging boner and someone might have called the cops. My brothers are all waiting for me in the quiet back room of the posh Irish bar, platters of sandwiches out on the table along with drinks. I flop down into a chair and glug down some lemonade. Fuck, it’s hot out there.
I look around the table at my brothers. Every one of them is wearing a stylish designer business suit and polished shoes. Mason has no tie and his top button is undone, but he still looks he’s stepped out of a photoshoot forEsquire. Meanwhile I’m in sweats and an old tee I’ve had since Morocco.
They eye me with concern, and I know it’s not because of my outfit. It’s because I called them here like this.
“You okay buddy?” Nathan takes the lead. “It’s not like you to send out an SOS.”
“It’s not like you to even use your phone,” Mason adds. “What’s going on Mad?”
