“Touch your little clit, Andy. Make yourself come for me.”
The words were as much a command as his “no touching” warning. I pressed my hand between my thighs, flicking my clit gently. The mixture of him fucking my mouth and me hitting my clit at the same pace had me panting and choking on his length.
“That’s right, come for me.”
I detonated beneath him and he took another compulsory thrust before he released inside of my mouth. I moaned around the heat, saltiness coating my tongue. Swallowing, my body begged for more. More him. More this. More bad.
After he groaned, finishing his release, he pulled out of me. “Get the fuck out.”
It wasn’t as harsh as it seemed, but I still felt dazed, hurrying out in my soaked shirt. I practically ran to my bathroom, pulling the shirt over my head and scrubbing away my indecency.
What the fuck did I just do?
I shook the memory away, wishing I could do the same for him now. A little tit for tat. I wanted to taste him again, especially now that he called me his.
He wanted his taste, now I wanted mine.
The guys went back to their distractions and I went and snuck into Madden’s bathroom.
It was similar to a normal one, just a little tighter in the sizing area. He leaned against the wall, his head back, his cock erect and angry-looking.
The stark difference in five years wasn’t lost on me.
He was tatted. From ankle to throat, ink covered him. It wrapped him like a protective film. There were different things, but the one that caught my attention most was a huge octopus on his thigh. It wasn’t complete. Half of it was outlined but not filled.
It looked sad, lonely, an incomplete mess for a man with ghosts.
He didn’t notice me as I got closer, taking him in. Madden was a piece of fucking art and a renewed ache came between my thighs, seeing him bare to the world.
And fuck, his cock... I couldn’t look away. There were six piercings on the bottom. Five were lines—a Jacob’s Ladder—and one speared through his cockhead too.
I moaned, thinking of how it’d feel inside me.
Madden getting me off was the first time I’d had an orgasm since he first came back into my life. And now, his eyes connected with mine, watching me dissect him like a piece in an art museum.
“What are you doing in here, little demon?” he rasped, his eyes narrowed. He should scare me with his expression being so dark and angered, but it didn’t.
It made me want him more.
“I need you,” I let out. “I need to touch you.”
He immediately shook his head, tilting it back a bit. “Not yet.”
“Why? Why can’t I just touch you?”
“Because then I’ll fucking feel!” he yelled a bit more loudly than I expected. He lowered his head, glaring at me now. “Touching you is one thing, Andy. But you touching me? It’d destroy me.”
I moved a few steps, wanting to be closer, needing something to hold me together. Because the defeated yet troubled look in his eyes was both alarming and sad.
“Please,” I begged, coming closer. Now, only the glass stood between us. It was our only barrier, the only thing keeping us apart when I could see he wanted us together.
“One touch,” he offered, the pain written across his face. Much like when his mouth hovered above me, saying one taste. He was allowing one touch.
Where did one touch the person who wouldn’t allow it regularly? Where would I cherish it most? Where would he allow me to get the most and be satisfied until the next?
Achiness built inside me, like an addiction needing a fucking feed, I opened the glass door. Much like the last time, I wore clothes.
He watched me, eating me alive with his expression. It was stuck between a wounded animal and a fucking ravenous one.
I couldn’t tell which drew me nearer.
I erased the gap, hot water spraying me like little knife cuts to the skin. It was much better than the icy waters of the last time, though.
He didn’t close his eyes this time. He didn’t avoid my gaze. He didn’t stop me as my fingers rose to his mouth. One would think I’d grab his cock, stroke it, make him come. But if I only had one chance to truly touch Madden in all his glory, I’d be stealing the mouth he used to bring me so much pleasure.
Offering us both a kind of heaven.
“Kiss me,” I demanded. “That’s the one touch I want.”
I hadn’t kissed him since he was sixteen and I was eighteen. It was wrong then and it was wrong now. But it didn’t stop every cell in my body reacting to him leaning into me.
We were a breath apart, sharing the same oxygen. It was so intimate, it made me shudder. His dark eyes bore into mine, questioning, asking me things I didn't have answers to.
“One touch,” he reiterated, his mouth so fucking close.
Not being able to hold back, I pushed forward, keeping my hands behind me so I didn’t break his rule. I wanted the space to be gone, to be tangled into him.
Our lips crashed, our teeth hitting as I tried gaining purchase of his mouth. Did one touch mean I couldn’t breathe since it’d separate us?
I licked at his bottom lip and he didn’t fight me for access. Pushing in, I licked inside, tasting myself there and a little bit of vodka.
The mixture of sweet and bitter made me moan but I didn’t stop my movements. He allowed me to move against his mouth, stick my tongue in it, and it wasn’t until I bit him for lack of movement that he attacked my mouth with fervor.
His teeth went into my bottom lip, deep, until the tinge of copper hit my taste buds. He looked unhinged as his tongue fought mine for dominance. Eventually, I stood down, allowing him to devour my entirety with his. He sucked in my tongue and groaned so low it could be mistaken as a growl.
He twisted us so I was against the wall. As soon as his chest pressed against me, I felt free. Pulling back to break the kiss, I sucked in a large gulp of air. “Madden,” I whimpered, not knowing how to convey exactly what I needed.
He knew, though, he didn’t question it. Pulling at my crop top, I was bared once more. Then he went to my bottoms, undoing them and dragging them down my thighs. He kissed my hip, sending shivers through me. When he yanked on my thong, it ripped beneath his grip.
It was an entire new experience being touched by him. It wasn’t like when I touched him, it was untamed and desperate as he was touching me.
His hands gripped at me and his tongue laved over my stomach, stopping at my belly ring. He licked it and then my navel, touching every inch of skin.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he hissed, each curse a condemnation of how he felt.
He bit at me then, hard. I screamed as he continued his warpath on me, feeling both pain and pleasure mix in a great and hot exhaustion.
I’d be marked everywhere after this. Every part of me he bit, he’d leave a bruise and it didn’t bother me at all, if anything it made the wetness between my thighs double.
After he was satisfied with his markings, he slowly stood, his hands cupping my breasts. The darkness of his eyes turned me on. He seemed so feral and desperate, a complete contradiction to how he was moments ago.
His palm fisted each of my tits and he squeezed harshly, as if he was imprinting himself on me, wanting to show ownership. Whether it was to him or me, he didn’t stop.
The biting pain brought stars to my eyes and had me leaking. “More,” I demanded, not wanting him to stop.