Chapter Fifty-Six
All I Ask Of You – Josh Groban & Kelly Clarkson
Andy
I watched him fall apart right before my eyes and I didn’t even tell him that Donnie admitted to being behind his parents’ deaths.
His face changed color. From red, to purple from lack of oxygen, all the way to pale as if something beyond thought crossed his mind.
Completely adjusting my naked body, I gripped his face. “Madden?”
He wasn’t there. Nothing but lackluster black orbs stared blankly back at me. They were vacant, and the disassociation to reality was so fucking scary to witness.
Therapy was the first thing we agreed to on the day after we came to this place.
Therapy for his drug and alcohol abuse. For his self-harm and mutilation tendencies. For his lack of liking to be touched.
He’d come back with so many diagnoses. One was borderline personality disorder; his disassociation also caused these episodes every once in a while. It was a learning curve for us, but he finally opened up.
Not just to me either.
We were in therapy together, not because we needed it due to arguing or disagreements, but to build a better foundation for us as a couple.
We were both troubled and lost kids. Orphans. Our lack of feeling at times caused so many cumbersome problems. Together, we worked through them.
Right now, though, the vacancy behind Madden’s eyes worried me.
It was my fault.
I kissed his forehead, offering him touch. I kissed his cheeks, offering him warmth. I kissed his nose, offering awareness. Finally, I kissed his lips, offering an anchor—something to latch onto and not hide from.
It took that for his lips to move against mine, to overwhelm me with his heat and possessiveness. It struck me then, knowing what he thought Donnie did to deserve my wrath.
He was wrong.
Madden was the only man who’d been inside my body since my ex, and even then, it was Madden I imagined. He was the only one with the right to touch me, taste me, devour me whole.
“He didn’t touch me,” I let out as soon as we separated. His eyes seemed so black, bleak, and murderous.
“Mine,” he hummed, the sound so deep and growly, it sounded desperate. Like he needed it to stick in my mind and the mind of everyone around him.
“Yours,” I confirmed.
He turned me back around, spreading my thighs by kneeing them apart. He adjusted me, and without warning, he speared inside me from behind. His cock stretched me, making me groan out in pleasure.
I’d never get used to his size, the way he rocked his hips purposefully, or how he destroyed me with each punch of his hips. He was always hard and aggressive, but not fast, no. Madden liked his deep thrusts where they literally percolated me.
The pleasure he brought me was insane, especially when he felt jealous in any way. Right now, he claimed me. His hips hit my ass as he held my waist.
His fingers dug into me with every thrust, and with each grunt he kept the pace and aggression. I moaned when his turned my face, our eyes meeting. The power of that fucking gaze, where it was only me and him and what his cock did to me. It was everything.
His cock swelled, and I felt the heat of his orgasm as he fucked me through it. Every rut into me, the wetness escaped my hole, leaking down my pussy and onto the couch, but he didn’t stop. He fucked me with his own cum, making sure it was locked inside me.
I wanted to tell him to stop, that he wouldn’t make a difference, that I’d already been pregnant for over a month, but I couldn’t.
Nothing would stop me from that lustful haze over his eyes.
When he finally stopped, he took no time gathering his release and fucking it back into me. My clit throbbed with desperation, knowing he used me to let off steam, and he’d be blowing my mind with endless orgasms. But right now, with his middle two fingers inside me, I knew he felt like he plugged me up with his seed, that it was helping. And that, the knowledge that he wanted me pregnant so badly he’d hold it there to inseminate me, it was so attractive.
“Toland,” I mumbled, feeling the edge of my orgasm teeter. “Need to come.”
He nodded, kissing my lips before lowering me onto the couch. Still holding his fingers inside me, he kissed down my bump-less stomach and reached my hips. After nibbling, driving me crazy, he licked my seam. Knowing his own release was there made me so squirmy and stimulated that I whimpered.
His tongue spread me open and he slowly swirled my clit in the purposeful way I loved. He drooled over me, then his eyes went to mine as the long stream of his saliva painted my clit.
The kinks my man had were endless, but seeing how feral he got, needing to spit on me, claim me in every way possible, it tore me apart.
“Tell me how you want me to please you,” he demanded, swirling his tongue across my swollen flesh. His two fingers inside me started pumping again.
“Just like that,” I begged. “More.”
He added another finger, his eyes glazed with pleasure as he licked at me. “Love my cum all over you, little demon. Makes you taste like me.”
I moaned at the imagery, at knowing he licked himself off me, tasting us both. His lips wrapped around my clit and he sucked on me, swirling his tongue.
He curled his fingers, hitting the spot that took my breath away. “That’s right, little demon, scream for me.”
He bit on my clit then soothed it with sucking and thrashes, and I fell apart, deafeningly. He didn’t stop his thrusting, and as soon as the high came down, he pulled out of me and rose to my lips.
“Taste,” he growled, forcing our mixed release into my mouth. Swirling my tongue over the silky warmth of us, I closed my eyes and savored this moment. Pulling out his fingers, he eyed me with heat and worry, the combination nauseating to witness.
His inability to focus on one emotion stabbed at my heart, wrecking me as he overwhelmed himself with everything all at once.
“Now, tell me about that fuck, then I’ll eat your ass like it’s your birthday.”
I hummed, with a smile, knowing he focused on the good as well as the bad. My mind traveled to how much I loved his mouth on my ass. But what I wanted more, his cock inside that part of me. I’d never done anal and he’d been prepping me for weeks.
I was ready for all of him.
Putting my bravest face on, I held back the already welling emotions in my eyes. Looking at my no longer steaming latte, my stomach churned.
Since peeing on six sticks, learning about the little Reaver baby baking inside me, coffee had been my only comfort. Decaf, of course. Right now, though, it didn’t comfort me. Not with how overwhelmingly upset I’ve been getting for weeks now.
Needing a distraction, I lifted the mug and allowed the caramel scent to ease a little nervousness.
“Right before your Vegas show, I went to see him,” I explained, wanting to tuck tail inside this mug. Where was the magic stuff Alice from Wonderland used? Shrinking sounded so nice right now.
The ire behind Madden’s eyes told me several things. One, he hated lying. Two, he hated men being alone with me. Three, he hated when I paused while explaining because it made him think the worst.
Anxiety was the biggest bitch out there.
Next to depression and self-doubt, that is.
“I played him, asking him questions that would trap him in the end.”
“What questions?”