The Devil Wears Black(80)

No?

A second climax unfurled under my belly button and spread to my legs, my chest, my fingertips when Chase flipped me onto my stomach, propping me back by my hip bones and entering me from behind. I let out a groan, adjusting to the new position.

“Fuck,” he said again. “That’s not working for me either.”

But he was still having sex with me, and his voice sounded so strained I couldn’t see him not enjoying it. Unless . . .

The satisfaction I felt was too much. It spread inside my chest like warm honey.

He was trying not to come. And failing.

“How close are you?” he hissed, the voice coming out in a short breath. The sound of us, flesh hitting flesh, and the thwack! of my wetness filled the room. I wondered if he was turned on by how unlikely we were in bed. How small and short I was, how big and muscular and tall he was.

“Close,” I moaned.

He began to massage my clit as he continued thrusting into me. My entire body trembled.

“I’m coming.”

“Thank fuck. Let me see.” He grabbed my short hair, extending my neck and staring me right in the eye. It was such a weird, intimate thing to do. And yet I met his gaze, my eyes sleepy as the orgasm ripped through me like a current. My mouth fell, O shaped, and he let go of my hair, thrusting a few more times and collapsing on top of me.

I felt the warm, thick liquid of his come inside me through the condom. His sweaty chest was plastered on my back. My head tucked under his chin. He groaned a few more times, pumping inside me lazily. I let out a soft whimper. He was two hundred pounds of muscles and ego the size of Staten Island. Heavy.

“Am I making pita bread out of you?” he asked sleepily.

“I never could resist carbs.”

He laughed. “Why is it,” he said to the nape of my neck, blowing my fine baby hair with his warm breath, “that you make me feel like a sixteen-year-old boy who just found out about pussy? What is it about you, Madison Goldbloom, that drives me goddamn wild?”

“Must be the patterned dresses,” I said into his pillow.

He kissed the back of my neck, laughing. “I mean, you mentioned your dad while I had my tongue inside you. My dick should’ve run away screaming. What makes you different from everyone else to me?”

The fact that he questioned it aloud was half-insulting, half-flattering.

“I’m me.” I shrugged, closing my eyes. “I’m myself, and everyone else tries to be someone else around you. To fit into your neat, all-Black universe. I live in color. I guess that’s a challenge for you.”

Suddenly, there was nothing I wanted more than to fall asleep.

So I did.

A fallen angel, dipped in the devil’s darkness, engulfed by his strong, deadly arms.





CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHASE

The rest of the weekend on the ranch did not suck, unlike Madison, who reminded me her mouth was the eighth wonder of the world. It was the best time I’d had in months. Fine, years. The weekend consisted of good food, pleasant conversation, and mind-blowing sex. I would have low-key suspected I’d died and gone to heaven if it weren’t for the fact I got an email from my accountant reminding me my quarterly tax payment was due.

If I thought I’d mythologized sex with Madison after we’d broken up to console myself for the subpar fucks I had to deal with, I was wrong. The real thing was even better than I remembered.

Longer, harder, and wetter too.

The only downside to the weekend was that Ethan Goddamn Goodman was still on the premises, horseback riding with us, sitting at our table, flirting with Katie (who looked less grossed out by the prospect of making out with my girlfriend’s ex than I’d expected). For the sake of full disclosure, I didn’t mind him dating my sister. He was not, I realized upon reflecting on the matter more closely, the fuckboy I’d thought he was. He seemed like the playing-it-safe, ankle-socked churchgoer my sister would be happy with. I just didn’t think he was a suitable match to my Madison. I mean, Madison. Not my Madison. She wasn’t mine. I knew that.

The night before the morning we were all heading back to the city, Ethan had to rush back to Manhattan for an emergency. He offered Katie a ride, glancing at Madison, who gave him the thumbs-up with a wide grin.

That left us free of Ethan and Katie at breakfast. Which meant I was able to do the one thing I’d been fantasizing about since I’d come up with the fake-engagement plan. During breakfast, very casually and very offhandedly, I leaned down and kissed Madison on the lips. It was nothing more than a peck. I thought people who PDA’d ought to be publicly executed in the town square. But it was enough to show everyone it was real.

The look on Amber’s face—like she’d swallowed a fly—paired with Julian’s appalled frown almost made me laugh.

Now that we were heading home, I was irritated with the idea of saying goodbye. My ex-slash-current-slash-temporary girlfriend was delectable, and she kept my mind off Dad’s illness, which was definitely a bonus.

“Where do you want to sleep tonight?” I asked, driving at a pace that would make senior citizens look like delinquent punks. The rural view passed like flicking pictures, turning gradually into more concrete, higher buildings, and narrower pavements the closer we got to New York.

“My bed.” She laughed. “Where else?”