Once Upon A Half-Time 2(113)

Any other woman was better off opening her legs than her mouth. But it’d never been that way with Josie. I wanted in her heart. In her head. I had to know why she’d endanger herself in Nolan’s presence, or if she even realized how dangerous that man was.

How the fuck did she survive without me for a year?

How did I survive without knowing she was safe?

Her apartment was close enough, but everybody watched me drag her away. Where the hell did they all come from? One raised voice, and the damn church bells rang to alert the village that Andrew Maddox had returned, and he’d claimed the virtuous again, ready to steal innocence and draw blood.

Josie was generally optimistic, but even she questioned me as we reached her apartment. I locked the door while she squealed some bullshit chastisement. I wasn’t listening. As long as I had her safe, as long as I had her in my arms, she could call me every name in the book and I’d still teach her more and dirtier profanity.

“Are you out of your mind?” Josie collapsed against the wall. “Maddox, you can’t act like this! If Nolan decides to press charges—”

I didn’t let her finish. She was already pinned to the wall. Something inside me snapped.

When I was in jail I counted the hours until I saw her, and when I was with her I memorized every blessed second I held her in my arms. She had kicked me out the other night, and part of my mind shredded itself. It was forged together now, glued with testosterone and stitched with adrenaline.

I kissed her, silenced her every protest of my lips and captured her within my arms. That didn’t mean she quieted. Her mew of indignation treaded a thin line between anger and submission.

I missed her submission.

Josie was always beautiful, but she destroyed me when she turned feisty. That’s when her almond eyes turned vibrant, a dancing darkness. Her lips, pouty and full, begged to be kissed.

I needed her, and I wouldn’t rest until I knew she was mine. I’d give my life to know she wasn’t hurt, scared, or trapped with that fucking bastard who wanted her as a prize, not because she was the most amazing woman in the world.

And so I kissed her until she softened in my hands.

Then I took control.

She fit with me. Or I crowded around her. I never knew the answer to that.

Josie was tiny. I was big.

She surrendered. I took.

My girl wanted. I delivered.

Her lips trembled. Why was she so afraid? I planned to give her body more pleasure than she could handle. I broke the kiss, but my nip to her neck silenced her next argument. I bit exactly where I knew she was vulnerable. Her groan was music, her hushed breath just a prelude to what I’d awaken in her desire.

“You can’t…” Josie shuddered as my attention trailed down. Her eyes closed. I knelt before her. “Maddox, we have to talk.”

“Later.” My fingers worked quickly, unbuttoning her jeans. They trembled too. I ignored it. The only thing that mattered was how goddamned much I ached to see her, taste her, feel her. “We can talk later. Let me have you now.”

“But we can’t do this.”

What stopped us? I was done denying myself.

But she hid from me. Still. The fire and trial and prison were damning enough, but even now, even when I was free…she pushed me away.

No more. I planned to prove exactly what she was missing. I’d win her back with the flick of my tongue, nibble of my lips, and thrust of my cock.

I unzipped her jeans. White panties peeked from beneath. The denim was easy to shed, but that flimsy cotton barrier stilled my hands.

In that moment, I hated panties. I hated them on her, hated that she had them, hated that they hid her sexy little slit from my eyes. The material shredded between my fingers, and Josie gasped as I immediately seized those petals for my own.

I knelt between her legs, forcing her thighs apart with greedy fingers and savoring the sweet slickness betraying her true desire. The swell of her legs crested into the most beautiful pussy I had the privilege of tasting, nibbling, touching. And she knew it too. Or should have known it. I hated authority, disavowed myself of most laws, and surrendered to no man. But for Josie?

I would’ve stayed on my knees, pleasured her for hours, showed her exactly how much I loved her and what I’d do to please her.

And I started right then.

Her gasp startled us both. I thought I hurt her, but immediately her knees buckled and her fingers tangled in my hair. She pulled me closer to that hot, honeyed slit, and I obeyed every arch of her hips to savor her more of her pussy. My tongue slipped within and massaged the sensitive nub.

I drove her wild. I had countless times before. I knew where to touch, how to kiss, what to do to straddle her on the edge of pain and pleasure until she begged for release I may or may not have given.