Page 96 of Cadence
“I think you should get naked, too,” I tease, trying not to squirm as he continues his exploration of my body.
His eyes snap to mine with a look I can’t quite place, before he stands from the bed and shrugs off his jeans. His shirt’s next, pulling it off one-handed in that sexy way that makes me weak. He’s a masterpiece, all sculpted and toned from hours of performing on stage for his adoring fans.
But tonight, he isn’t theirs.
He’s mine.
“Come here,” I whisper, leaning up on my elbows.
Reaching for his jeans again, he grabs a condom, tearing the foil open. I watch, almost as transfixed as he was earlier as he rolls it down his cock, his gaze back to mine.
Anticipation crackles between us as he crawls up the bed, over my body, his skin branding mine wherever we touch. Bracing himself above me, one forearm planted by my head, his hand slides down my leg, goosebumps coating my flesh as he grips my calf, lifts it, and hooks it up and over his chest.
Gently, he pushes inside me, and my eyes roll back, losing myself in the feeling taking over my body. The angle is intense, a pressure hitting the spot inside me that feels like ecstasy.
My arms band across his back, clinging on to the muscle I’ve thought about since that first time on the tour bus. I bury my head in his neck, hiding the smile that wants to escape at the thought of how far we’ve come.
“Look at me,” he whispers, but there’s something in his voice that makes my nerves stand on edge.
I sink back into the pillow, eyes locking with his as he lets my leg fall from his shoulder, guiding it around his hip. He shifts, every snap of his hips pushing him deeper, making me feelimpossibly full. He gives it all to me, pouring himself into sweat-slicked skin, every teeth-gritted groan and whispered curses, enraptured to the place where we’re joined, obsessed.
Maddox Knox fucks the way he sings.
It’s not just a song, not about getting to the last verse; it’s a soul-deep exploration, not just a rhythm or a race. Every thrust another lyric he can’t sing out loud, every roll of his hips an emotion he’s been trying to outrun. He’s focused, consumed, only by me.
One arm moves above my head, his fingers softly tangling in my hair as he leans down, mouth touching mine, tongue sweeping in and claiming, taking whatever he wants. He kisses me as if this is the only way he knows how to breathe, the only way he knows how to speak. And I let him.
There’s no point in pretending I wouldn’t give him everything right now. This isn’t about getting off; it’s about giving me something of himself. All of it. Raw and messy and too much, the kind of brutal honesty I see in the pages of his notebook.
One hand slips between us, the same fingers I admire plucking his guitar strings now being used to play me, pushing me to the edge. I cry out, arching into him, my body tight and coiled as he rubs small circles on my clit, knowing exactly what my body needs before I do.
“Not yet,” he pants, voice strained. “Little bit longer.”
“I can’t,” I gasp, nearly whimpering when his ministrations slow. “Please don’t stop.”
“Paige…”
My name is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard from his lips, a melody I want to hear over and over. And maybe I’m getting carried away with myself, but it doesn’t matter. I’m already gone.
Ripping every thought from my head and replacing them with only Maddox, my orgasm slams into me. I moan, digging mynails into his shoulders, leaving half-moon dents on his skin, marking him as I fall apart beneath him.
I should feel victorious, sated even. Instead, I feel like something inside me has cracked open, unable to be put back together. Like this wasn’t just sex, like I’m going to remember this moment long after the high has faded.
My head tips back against the pillow as his thrusts slow, each one deliberate, matching the shiver still rippling through my limbs. He’s chasing his own release now with every grind of his hips more desperate than the last.
With a low, broken groan, his forehead drops to the curve of my neck, his entire body going taut as he finally lets go, spilling deep inside me, lost in the moment, lost inus.
There’s nothing left but the sound of our breathing and the heavy silence that settles over everything we’ve said to each other without uttering a single word.
For a few long moments, we stay like that, tangled and sweaty, hearts still racing, every cell vibrating with the kind of aftershock that I’ll never stop wanting.
Eventually, he eases out of me, his lips grazing my shoulder in a kiss so soft it shouldn’t undo me the way it does. He rolls away to tie off the condom and tosses it into the trash beside the bed. Leaning across me, he grabs the sheet, dragging it over us. His skin brushes mine, his touch slower now, almost reverent.
Emotions choke me as my brain sluggishly comes back online, my tongue thick and useless. Usually, this is when Maddox would leave, retreat, because time alone isn’t something we get on tour. I wouldn’t mind that; I know the score, but something about tonight makes me want to hold on to him a bit longer.
I turn my head, ready to do something stupid, like ask him to stay, but he’s already looking at me. The brown in his eyes is softer somehow, golden specks I haven’t noticed appearing in the dim light. He reaches over, tucking back a strand of hairfrom my face, his thumb lightly ghosting across my cheekbone to my lower lip, his gaze following his every move.
“What have you done to me, Paige Erikson?”
