Translucent (22 page)

“Oh fuck, Madden,” I moan as my heels dig into his shoulder blades.

The blend of the heady smell of my arousal and the mind-blowing things he’s doing with his mouth has me bucking and grinding frantically as my control slips. He senses my oncoming orgasm, and graciously allows it.

“Come for me, sweet girl,” he instructs without removing his mouth from my body.

My stomach tightens, and I release an untamed growl; trembling uncontrollably, I surrender to the overwhelming ecstasy engulfing my body, and allow my release to flow freely against his tongue. He drinks my juices as if he’s dying of thirst and I’m the only thing that can save his life until my body stops quivering and I slacken in his hands, then places soft kisses on the inside of my thigh before moving back up my body.

“So sweet, it keeps getting better,” he mumbles against my lips before kissing my deeply.

“I need you, Madden,” I reply hoarsely. Hooking my thumbs inside the elastic waist of his boxers, I push them down, releasing his hard cock against my stomach. He lifts his body as I take the rock-hard shaft in my hand and begin to stroke the length of it. Gazing down between our bodies, my thumb slowly circles the drop of pre-cum escaping from the tip, and then rubs it all over the straining head. I guide his cock down between my swollen lips and run it up and down my pussy, coating it with my juices.

A carnal noise escapes him as he grabs my hands and lifts them up over my head, restraining them with one hand. I’m so lost in him, in the moment that’s about to happen, I don’t even think about being pinned or confined. With Madden, it feels right; I trust he won’t harm me, and my pleasure truly is his priority. I want him to control my body.

He reaches over and grabs a condom with his free hand, and quickly rolls it onto his shaft. Then, lining the tip up with my desire-drenched slit, he slowly and gradually eases into me, my body stretching to accommodate his size until he’s completely buried inside me. Our searing eyes lock onto each other. The intimacy isn’t just physical; I feel his presence in every part of me. In this single moment, he brands me as his, etching himself into my body and soul, marking me for life.

“Blake,” he breathes in a low timbre, “what are you doing to me?”

Kissing my lips tenderly, he begins to stroke in and out at a steady pace. He whispers my name as the pace of the thrusts increases, and the beginning of another orgasm ignites deep inside my core. Nibbling his way down my neck to my shoulder, he bites down firmly, sending a surge of ecstasy through me, which completely takes control of my body as he pulls out and thrusts into me again. I close my eyes as I near another orgasm, again desperately trying to hold it back until his command.

“Open your eyes, sweet girl. I want you right here with me the whole time,” he whispers through his panting breaths.

I lift my lids and gaze up at him. “I can’t stop it. It feels too good.”

“It’s okay; let me feel you fall apart on me. Let it go.”

Quivering and moaning uncontrollably, my body trembles fervently as I lift my hips and freefall into blissful oblivion. As I cry out his name over and over, his body stiffens on top of me as my walls clamp down on his shaft, and he joins me with a loud grunt as together we drift into enraptured ecstasy.

He lowers himself next to me, careful not to crush me with his weight, and twists me so he’s still buried inside of me and we’re face-to-face. Once our pulses return to a normal pace and we’re both breathing without panting, he tucks my sweaty hair back away from my face behind my ear and brings his mouth to mine in a tender, loving kiss.

“Mine,” he murmurs softly against my lips.

“Yours,” I whisper back. Even though the thought frightens me, it excites me even more. I’m ready to try to live and love again, with Madden.

A phone rings in the far-off distance as I teeter in and out of consciousness. The ringtone isn’t mine, and Madden isn’t moving, so I don’t worry myself with it, closing my eyes again. After a brief pause, it starts up again, and he moves out from behind me grumbling curse words as he slides off the bed.

“This better fucking be good, Easton,” he snaps into the receiver.

“What? Are you kidding me? Where are you?”

I roll over onto my back with concern, staring at his naked body as he barks into the phone.

“How much?”

“Text me the address. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”He slams the phone down on the dresser and sighs.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“My stupid ass brother has gotten himself in trouble yet again, and as always, I have to be the one to go get him.” Opening a drawer, he pulls out a pair of clean boxers, and then walks to the closet for jeans and a t-shirt.

“Where is he?” I call after him.

“He was playing poker at some exclusive home game, and apparently, he bet the wrong person with money he didn’t have. Before he knew it, some guy from the Russian mob had a gun to his head, telling him to find the money.” He emerges from the closet completely dressed. “Get dressed, beautiful. We’ve got to go get him.”

“Umm…I really don’t think I need to go someplace where they have guns and rising tension. Plus, I’m sure Easton doesn’t want me to know about this,” I rationalize. My voice is shaky as hell, but I’m praying he’ll buy it.

He runs his fingers through his just-had-sex hair and nods. “You’re right. I’m sorry; I’m not thinking clearly.” Walking over to the bed, he presses his lips to mine several times before one final kiss on the forehead. “Stay here and get some rest. I’ll be back soon. I’m so sorry—I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

The minute I hear his car pull out of the driveway, I jump out of bed, get dressed, and begin to throw all of my things into my overnight bag.
What in the fuck just happened? Is this the universe’s idea of a sick joke?
I finally trust someone enough to give myself to them, and less than an hour later, the mob—albeit Russians and not Italians—pull him away from me, and his brother is mixed up with them. I’m convinced it’s a sign.

I’ve got to get the hell out of here.

S
TUPID
FUCKING
E
ASTON
. I really can’t believe this shit. How can he be so selfish and careless time and time again? If whoever he pissed off didn’t rough him up a bit, I plan on it once I get my hands on him. There are never any consequences for his actions; he always has someone there to bail him out of his messes, and usually it’s me. I’m so fed up with it.

After I stop by the office to retrieve cash from the safe, I drive to the posh Hollywood Hills neighborhood as directed by my GPS, and easily find the stylish mini-mansion where he is. Carrying a duffel bag with fifty thousand dollars in it isn’t something I do every day, so I hurry to the front door, hoping he hasn’t talked himself into any more trouble. A young guy answers the door, waiting for me to explain who I am and why I’m there.

“Yeah, I’m here to collect Easton. I brought the money to pay off his debt,” I say with a shaky voice. I hadn’t realized how afraid I am until right now.

He motions with his arm for me to come inside, but something in me tells me not to go. “No, I’m good here. Bring my brother to the door, and then I’ll hand over the bag of money.”

“Okay, I’ll be right back,” he replies in a thick Eastern-European accent.

I wait for several excruciating minutes with bated breath until I see Easton leisurely sauntering towards the door. “Madden, my dear brother! Thank you so much for coming!” he exclaims. “You don’t want to come in for a drink with my new friends?”

Two armed men stand off to the side as the guy who answered the door walks back up to Easton’s side. “The money, Mr. Decker,” he requests.

I shrug the strap off of my shoulder and hand it over to him as I grab Easton’s elbow and yank him through the doorway. “We’re leaving now,” I seethe at him. I turn around and stalk towards the car, not checking to be sure he’s behind me or not. Once we’re both in the car and I’ve safely pulled away from the house, I begin my lecture.

“What in the fuck are you thinking, Easton? Do you have no regard for your life whatsoever? I’m sick and fucking tired of saving your ass from this shit you get involved in. Do you have any idea what Mom would think if she knew what you were doing? Do you want to drive her insane? Do you care about anyone other than yourself?”

He grins at me and pats my hand, obviously drunk, high, or both, which infuriates me even more. “Please don’t tell Mom, Madden. I don’t want to disappoint her.”

I roll my eyes and drive my car in the direction of Emerson’s townhome. I can’t leave him alone like this, and I need to get back home to Blake. Grabbing my phone, I call her to let her know I’m bringing him over. Thankfully, she’s home and agrees to take care of him.

“That Emerson…she’s a nice girl,” he slurs. “Great ass and all, but she’s no Leighton. God, I loved that girl’s pussy. Every time I slid into her it was like soft virgin thighs wrapping around me.”

I slam on the brakes in the middle of the nearly-deserted road, unable to take it anymore. I don’t care that his head just slammed into the dashboard and is now bleeding. “SHUT THE FUCK UP! SHE WAS MY FIANCÉE, AND JUST LIKE EVERYTHING ELSE IN MY LIFE, YOU RUINED WHAT WE HAD! I’M TIRED OF SHARING EVERYTHING WITH YOU, AND I’M FUCKING TIRED OF TAKING CARE OF YOU, YOU SELFISH BASTARD!” I shout at the top of my lungs, banging my hands on the steering wheel.

He doesn’t respond for several minutes, so I look over at him and see he’s passed out against the window, the blood from the gash in his forehead now flowing at a steady stream down his face and onto his shirt.

“FUUUCCCCKKK!”

I throw the car into drive and speed to Emerson’s. As soon as I pull up out front, I rush over to the passenger door and lift him out of the seat, carrying him to her door. Unable to knock with my hands, I kick the door several times, and she answers in some lacy lingerie set.

“Sorry, Em, I don’t think he’s going to be up for any of your fun tonight,” I announce as I place him on her couch.

“What the fuck happened to him? Does he need to go to the hospital for stitches?” she asks kneeling next to him.

“I don’t think so. Grab a bowl of water and a rag. Let’s get the excess blood cleaned off and we’ll assess how deep it is.”

Ten minutes later, we have him cleaned up and both agree stitches aren’t necessary. Covering the split with several bandages, she agrees to check on him regularly and to let me know how he’s doing in the morning.

I walk towards the front door and she follows me, trying hard to touch me every chance she gets. “You sure you don’t want to stay, so we can both monitor him?” she asks seductively. “You can stay in my bed with me.”

“No, thanks, I’ve got someone waiting for me, but please try to get him up for my parents’ brunch tomorrow. He’s missed the last several, and Mom would rather see him with a knot on his head than not at all.”

She glares at me, obviously not pleased with my blatant rejection. I don’t want her to hate me; I am simply no longer interested. Trying to smooth things over with her a bit, I add, “You should come too. Mom and Dad would love to see you.”

“Okay, I will.” Her face lights up with hope. I don’t have the energy to say anything else, so I about-face and hurry down the sidewalk to my car, anxious to get home to Blake.

The minute I turn onto my block, I notice her car is gone and my stomach tightens into a hard knot. I pull up in front of the house like a Nascar driver entering pit row, throw the transmission into park, and race inside hoping she left a note indicating where she is. After searching damn near every room in the house, there’s no indication of where she went or why, but all of her stuff is gone, so I’m guessing it isn’t a quick trip to the store.

I retrieve my phone from my pocket and call her, but of course, no answer. I then send her a text and pray she responds.

Where did you go? I’m worried. Please call me.

I call again, hoping maybe she was in the bathroom or something, but still no answer. It’s now a little after midnight, and she’s out there on the roads somewhere; or shit, maybe she’s home already.
What happened? Why did she leave?
My head is about to explode as thousands of scenarios run through it. I’m not sure if she got freaked out because of the sex—oh, and what mind-blowing sex it was. Now that I know what being buried inside that sweet little pussy of hers feels like, she’s ruined me for the rest of my life. Did she get mad because I left to get Easton? Surely, she understands I had to go save my brother. Maybe it was all too much for her…I don’t know, but I’m even more pissed at him now, because he ruined a near-fucking-perfect day with my Blake, and now she’s gone.

I call and text more times than I’d like to admit over the next hour, before I get the bright idea to try and find her home address online. I
need
to know she’s all right. Sitting down in front of my laptop, I type in her name and city in the search engine. After all, how many Blake Martin’s can live in Woodland Hills, right? After a few minutes of navigating through several different people locator sites, the answer appears to be zero. I slam the screen down on the computer, pissed off and worried sick, unsure of what to do next.