Chapter 13—Emmy
Between the bullshit he’s convinced makes him unworthy of my heart, the desire that is even larger now that we know what it feels like to allow it to break free, and the personal battles we’re both dealing with, the last week has been tense at best.
I know enough from the bits and pieces he’s told me that his hurt runs deep. Probably even deeper any one person should ever feel to get to that level of self-hatred. Until he lets me in, there really isn’t anything I can do about it though, so I leave him to his thoughts and try to keep the distance from making me bitter.
We co-exist. He’s kept himself closed off and I’ve been working towards forgiving myself for the events that led up to Coop’s death. I know now that I was letting my grief over losing him take hold. I shouldn’t have run from my life just because of the things I was feeling. Even if I hadn’t frozen at that moment, someone still would have been hurt. It will never take the pain away from losing him, but I no longer blame myself. He wanted me to live. He will always hold a special place in my heart and I’ll do my best to live by his motto—after all, you only live once.
I laugh as I think about all the times he would scream, ”YOLO!” at the top of his lungs. It didn’t matter where we were, he was going to do what made him happy and live for the moment—something I’ve vowed to do myself over the last week.
“What’s so funny?” Maddox grumbles when I walk past him. He has taken it upon himself to get up at the ass crack of dawn the last few days and have breakfast ready by the time I roll out of bed. It’s one of the rare times he allows himself to be in the same room I’m in.
“Just thinking about Coop,” I reply with a smile. “His outlook on life and how I’m going to do better to honor his memory by living life like him.”
I jump when the pan he was cleaning slams down against the marble countertop. Turning from where I was fixing my plate, I find him standing just a breath from me. Close enough that it wouldn’t take much for me to take his thick bottom lip and give him a smart bite.
“What the fuck?” he fumes.
“What the fuck what?” I snap back with confusion. I cock my head and wait for him to elaborate over his newest tantrum. My mind is still thinking about those lips, so it takes me a second too late to catch where he’s going with this.
“So you’re just going to spread those legs for anyone that walks by? Become what? A little whore?”
“Excuse me?” I gasp.
“Coop believed in one thing and that was having a good time.” His eyes go from dark brown to black in seconds.
I watch the stages of pure rage take over his features, and even though I’m becoming more pissed by the each passing moment of his silent, irate bullshit, I can’t help but think how perfectly handsome he looks when he’s angry.
“One thing he lived for was pussy. He didn’t give a fuck about where it came from as long as it ended up riding his dick. So let me clarify—you will not become a slut like Coop was.”
My hand moves without permission, clapping against his cheek and leaving not only an instant red mark, but also needle pricks shooting up my arm.
“How fucking dare you speak about him that way. Do not let your misplaced anger turn his memory to shit. I woke up this morning determined to be happy—to live in the moment. And right now, in this moment, I want to kick your fucking ass. YOLO, you jerk.”
I take deep pulls of oxygen, trying desperately to tame the fire that wants to consume my body. I’ve never been a violent person, but right now, all I can see is red.
His head is still turned to the side; the bright red mark against his tan skin taunts me. When his head slowly and methodically turns back to glare at me, I give him back as good as he gives.
I’ve seen him mad before. Hell, he’s Maddox Locke; he’s mad ninety percent of the time. But this—this rage directed towards me—is something I have never witnessed before. Knowing that he would never hurt me physically helps me stand strong and hold my own. He deserved that and I’m not backing the hell down.
Expecting a verbal lashing, I’m surprised when his rough hands grab my head and pull me towards him. My gasp works in his favor, and in just seconds, we’re tearing the clothes from each other’s bodies. Our anger fuels the desire—the craving for each other. Our teeth clash as we fight for dominance with our lips. His hands finish pulling my shorts from my body and then lift my hands from his belt before bringing them behind my back. In one second, I go from battling for control to giving it up completely.
With his large hand holding my wrists together behind my back, he pulls back for a second to look me in the eyes. His anger hasn’t dissipated in the least. His eyes are pitch black and his skin is even more flushed than it was before. My handprint still bright against his cheek reminds me just what set this in motion.
“I hate you,” I snap, for the first time wishing that I were capable of even an ounce of hate. Then it would be so much easier to move on.
He lets my wrists go, but my freedom is short-lived. He grabs me around the waist and flips my position. My bare chest hits the cold, unbending counter. My panties are ripped from my body in one swift snap. Then he reaches back up with his hands and grabs my arms, pulling until he has my wrists once again hostage at the small of my back.
“Tell me,” he demands.
“I hate you,” I parrot weakly.
The smack of his palm against my ass takes me by surprise. Not because of the pain—it does hurt in an oddly pleasurable way—but because I never thought he would really spank me.
“Give me the words, Emersyn.”
I hardly recognize his voice at this point. I’m so turned on that my head is spinning. I can feel my wetness running down my thighs.
Apparently, I didn’t speak quickly enough, because his palm comes back down lower on my ass. The shot of pleasure that zips from that one heated mark goes straight to my core and I’m convinced that one more of those strong smacks and I’ll come on the spot.
“Give. Me. The. Words.” He drives each word home with another smaller smack, each time making sure he doesn’t hit the same spot twice.
“I want to hate you,” I whisper. At this point, I’m not sure why I’m egging him on.
“You fucking love me, woman!” he bellows.
Then he brings his hand down, this time harder than each of the previous times. He doesn’t even pause before rolling his hand over the offended skin and plunging two fingers deep within my waiting body.
“Oh, God!” I cry.
My walls clamp down instantly and my whole body shakes with the power behind my impending orgasm. My muscles are seizing, coiling tight, and preparing for the force that will flood my system soon. I’m right there, standing on the ledge and ready to jump…and then he pulls his fingers from my body.
“What the hell!” I screech.
“Shut up!” he thunders.
“Don’t tell me to shut up!” I shout back, working to free my arms from his unbreakable hold. “Let me go, asshole.” I want to cry at the loss of what promised to be such an all-consuming release.
When he shifts, I feel the blunt head of his cock at my entrance.
“Condom!” I yell through the hunger I feel towards this man.
“Shut up,” he pants.
“Don’t tell me—”
My words are cut off when he pushes himself roughly into my body. I yelp out when I feel him bottom out, and as he rolls his hips, I feel every single one of his delicious piercings.
Everything else around us falls to the wayside. He takes my body forcefully and I take everything he’s giving me just as hard, meeting him thrust for thrust. My hands itch to break free, to try to take the control he so clearly desires in this moment.
“Give me the words, Em.” His grunted command breaks through the silence that only our harsh breaths were filling just moments before.
“Fuck you!” I shout when he slams into my body.
“You are,” he laughs.
If I weren’t so close to flying into a million pieces, I might find it insulting that he’s laughing at me. At the moment, though, the only thing I can think about is every inch of his cock buried deep within my body.
“Now, Emersyn.”
I smile to myself, knowing that he can’t see my face, and refuse to give him the words he wants. I screech when his palm connects with my ass again, my wetness coating his cock and my orgasm just within reach.
And then he stops. His hips still and he just stands there with his cock twitching inside my body.
“What the hell are you doing?! Fuck me, Maddox!”
“Not until you give me the words I want, Em.”
He lets my wrists go and curls his fingers around my waist, lifting me up from the counter so that my feet can no longer touch the floor. Then he rolls his hips and I roll my eyes.
“Tell me,” he commands.
“I love you! I fucking love you. Are you happy now?” I lift up on the counter and turn my head to glare at him.
My mind instantly stills when I see the completely open expression of happiness on his face. His cheeks are still flushed, his eyes are boring into mine, and his mouth is tipped up in a smile so shocking that my breath catches.
“Yeah, angel, I am.”
He pulls out slowly, his eyes never leaving mine, before pushing back in. He holds my gaze—his smile more of a smirk now—and gradually builds me back up. It doesn’t take long before his thrusts are coming quicker and his veins are throbbing in his neck. I throw my head back and scream loud and long when he hits that perfect spot deep inside me that has me coming hard against his dick. He gives me a few good thrusts before he comes on a roar.
His fingers move from my hips and caress my back on a lazy trail up my spine. When he hits my shoulders, his hand curls in and pulls me up until my back is flush with his chest. The light spattering of hair there sends a violent shiver through my body. I feel his groan rumble against my back at my slight movement. His free hand comes up, cups my jaw, and turns my head so that our lips are just a breath away.
Holding my eyes hostage, he gives me a short kiss before pulling back. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. When he pulls out of my body, his fingers once again fall down my spine as he walks out of the kitchen.
Leaving me to wonder what in the hell just happened.