Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 96850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
“Mad . . .”
“Is this what you need?”
Her body was too keyed up and defenseless to make words. To make sense. Yet at the same time, in this submissive position with an audience—be it real or imagined—she felt more powerful than she ever had in her life.
She nodded vigorously.
Madden used the back of his wrist to swipe sweat from his forehead, hesitating to gather himself before fisting his shaft and bringing it out of his jeans, showing it to her, long and engorged in his palm. Pumping it top to bottom in his grip. “Is this what you need?”
“Yes.”
He stepped closer and rested the smooth head against her mouth. “Good girl. Show everyone how well you suck your husband off.”
Eve pretty much blacked out. That’s how she would remember it later. The last thing she recalled with her human brain were those eleven words, prior to her animal brain taking over, her fingers scraping his jeans down to his ankles, along with his black briefs, the salt and weight and texture of Madden in her mouth. Finally. God, he was huge. And generous with his approval, moaning her name any time she did anything. Anything. Flicked her tongue across his damp slit, took him so deep her lips brushed his balls, blinked up at him. He praised it all. He shook through it all. Eve couldn’t remember if she even stopped to breathe, she was so eager to be a good girl, to lose herself in this moment where she was an object of hunger. A means of pleasure. It was freeing, exciting, erotic. It was the hottest experience of her life. Everyone watching was envious of Madden. Wanted a turn they would never be allowed. Only in their dreams.
“Love. Love, I can’t hold on to it anymore.”
“Give it to me.”
“Say that again,” he rasped, panting. “But call me your husband.”
“Please, I want my husband to give it to me.”
Eve barely finished breathing those requested words when Madden’s hips jerked, a choked sound left him, and she covered him with her suctioning mouth, whimpering at the simultaneous power and weakness of him, how susceptible he was to her touch, the salt washing down the back of her throat, the sinew of his thighs straining underneath her palms. All of him. All of him, every part was perfect, but the fact that she was trying to express that truth was probably lost on Madden, because he was too busy praising her.
“Eve. My god. My god. Eve. You don’t know the pain of needing to fuck this mouth. You’re so beautiful. Work me. Fuck, that’s it. Work it all out of me. You’re so fucking beautiful.”
When her animal brain winked off and her human one came back online, Eve was in a heap on the floor, struggling to breathe while Madden zipped himself up above her. How had this happened? How had giving someone else head knocked Eve on her ass? What in the world was going on here?
She stopped caring when Madden got down on the floor and lay beside Eve on his side, studying her face while his right hand molded her ass, his touch firm and possessive.
“Can I go down on you now?”
“What?”
Her phone rang.
Chapter Twenty-One
Madden paused in the act of tying his shoelaces, his fingers suspended while he watched Eve run around her bedroom. He simply couldn’t concentrate on both things at the same time, and frankly, he might never be able to concentrate on anything for the rest of his life after that blow job.
He’d had women on their knees before, but it had been a long time. Since those first two years in college, to be exact. When Madden left for college, Eve was still sixteen and he was doing his god’s honest best to pretend his infatuation with her didn’t exist. He’d had a blur of hookups in those first two years of college trying to drive her out of his head. That first visit home after her graduation, though, he’d almost begged her for forgiveness, even though they weren’t in a relationship. Even though she’d shown no interest in one.
They’d never even spoken to each other in a romantic sense before that night.
He’d asked her out and gotten turned down flat. But he hadn’t gone near another woman since they danced in that tent on the Pages’ front lawn. Once he admitted to himself that Eve was the end game, he didn’t look back, right, or left. Only forward.
Four years of cat and mouse had ensued, him trying to have contact with her in any way, shape, or form. He’d fucking pined for her. Lusted day and night. Missed her like hell. At times, he’d even felt flashes of resentment, confusion for being kept at arm’s length. Not even a friend did that, let alone someone he had a very clear connection with.