Flawed Heart (House Of Obsidian #1) (20 page)

He barks a laugh. “Firstly, sweetheart, I don’t squeal, and secondly, I highly doubt any hot girl would be capable of being a bounty hunter. They can barely paint their own nails without drama.”

I giggle. “I think you’re onto something there, but I could take you down if I really wanted to.”

“Don’t make me laugh.”

I smile. Yes, I do like Raide.

“Well, I hope you get the justice you’re seeking.”

“Me too. Now wait outside while I talk to your brooding man.”

“He’s not brooding, he’s just got a lot of pent-up frustration.”

Raide turns and grins down at me. “You in that dress, with those lips, those legs and that fuckin’ ass? He won’t for long.”

My mouth drops open and he leans down, smacking a kiss to my head. “Good to see you again, girl.”

Then he swings a door open and shuts it before I can respond.

Tricky.

~*~*~*~

M
ax is staring at me.

He’s just standing there, wearing only his shorts for fighting, fists bound, staring at me.

I squirm and fidget, looking away because I honestly have no idea what to say.

“What’re you wearin’, Blue Belle?”

“Ah,” I say, cheeks going red. “A dress?”

“A fuckin’ dress,” he grunts. “A fuckin’ dress that’s makin’ my dick hard, right before my fight.”

Oh boy.

“I . . . ah . . . this old thing?”

Oh my God, I just made a squeaking sound. Someone shoot me. And did I just say
this old thing
? Shit. He’s making me nervous.

“That old thing? Fuck, I’d hate to see what your new clothes look like, if that’s old.”

“I don’t want to distract you, so I’ll, um, leave. I just wanted to let you know I was here.”

“You blushing, sweetheart?”

I shiver and look into his dark brown eyes, which are swirling with lust.

“No,” I squeak again.

Someone shoot me.

He steps forward and holy shit, his abs just flexed. They’re calling me. It’s torture, pure torture.

“Haven’t seen you blush like that since the first time I started talking to you.”

“Yeah,” I scoff, but it’s pathetic. “Well, I haven’t, ah, you know, seen you, ah . . .”

Jesus. Get. It. Together.

He chuckles. “I think you’re nervous, because you know how hard I want to fuck you right now, and you’re fighting it as much as I am.”

I look up again, and I can feel the heat in my face as I stare down at what is, without a doubt, a straining cock. Oh boy.

He steps closer again. I step back.

“I thought we weren’t, um, fucking?”

He grins, and he looks like a wolf about to lunge at its prey.

“We weren’t, but then you chose to wear that dress. How the hell am I going to fight when all I can see is you? Not to mention this.” He palms his dick and I have to clench my thighs together, or I’ll moan out loud and embarrass myself more.

“You could deal with that,” I point out breathlessly.

“Absolutely, by plunging it deep in your cunt.”

Holy shit.

“Or there’s your hand,” I stammer.

His grin gets bigger. “When I’ve got my wife’s tight, sweet body in that fucking amazing dress standing right in front of me? I don’t think so.”

“But . . . we’re . . . going slow . . . remember . . .”

Jesus.

I’m losing my shit.

“I can go slow.”

Oh crap.

He reaches out and catches me around the waist, hauling me forward. I cry out and my hands fly up to land against his chest. His skin is hot and I swear, oiled. It’s slick and I want to do nothing more than lower my head and suck his nipples into my mouth until he groans. Holy shit. What the hell is wrong with me?

“Max,” I say, and it comes out as a moan.

“You know you don’t want to fight this as much as I don’t’ want to fight this, so give in, Blue Belle. Let me fuck you the way we both want it.”

Screw it.

I’m all in for that.

I let anything I was holding back go, and shove my mouth against his, kissing him hard. He tastes like Max and a little bit of peppermint. Yum. He groans and his tongue dances with mine as our hands start roaming each other’s bodies. I need more of him—hell, I need to taste his nipples like I wanted to only seconds earlier.

I pull my mouth from his and lower my head, capturing his nipple in my mouth and sucking hard, loving the little piercings there. He grunts loudly and curses, tangling his hands in my hair and shoving his chest harder against my mouth. He likes it. Oh God,
I
like it. I suck harder until he’s pulling my hair so hard it pinches, but I don’t care. I roll his hard, small nipple around in my mouth until I can feel his cock pressing against my body, hard and ready.

I release his nipple, and before he can protest I drop to my knees and jerk his shorts down. They go easily, being that they’re loose and elastic at the top. His cock springs free and I take it in my hand, squeezing softly before lowering my mouth and taking it in, deep and hard, straight off the mark.

“Holy fuckin’ shit,” he hisses.

I suck him deep, loving how he tastes, missing how he tastes. I swirl my tongue around and around, reaching up and taking his balls into my hand, squeezing them. I’m out of control—I know this, but I don’t care. I want every bit of him, and I want it for as long as I live.

“If you keep doin’ that, I’ll come. Stand up.”

He pulls me up and I lick my lips as I stare into his eyes. He reaches up, running his thumb over my swollen bottom lip and then he growls low in his throat, backing me to the closest thing he can lean me against, which is a table. He presses a hand to my chest and pushes me down. “I need to taste your cunt. I’ve missed how sweet you are.”

I shiver as he hikes my dress up and then discards my lacy panties in a matter of seconds. Then he lifts my knees, pushing me back so he can place my heeled feet over his shoulders. “You look so fuckin’ hot right now. There’s a good chance I’ll come in my pants before I even get to fuck you.”

I shiver and bite my bottom lip as he reaches down, swiping his finger up my pussy and collecting my juices. He brings it to his mouth and sucks, eyes flaring with need. Then he brings his mouth down, closing his lips around my clit and sucking with the same force I just used on his cock. Oh. God. I moan his name over and over as I buck my hips into his needy lips.

“Max, oh God.”

He sucks hard, drawing my swollen nub in and out of his mouth, teasing it, taunting it, until I can take no more. When I’m right on the edge, he slides his finger into my pussy and starts fucking me with a force that should hurt, but it doesn’t. It feels so fucking good. “Max, I’m coming,” I scream to the ceiling as my hips buck and I explode around him.

He moves fast after that, sliding his finger from my greedy depths and taking my trembling body, flipping me over so I’m on my hands and knees on the table. He runs his finger down my ass, dipping it into my pussy again, before growling, “You, like this? Fuck you’re hot. Those heels, this cunt . . .”

“Please,” I beg.

“It’s going to be hard, so fucking hard.”

“Yes,” I whimper.

He pulls his finger out and replaces it with his dick, curling a hand around my hip. Then he slams inside. I gasp and a strangled cry is torn from my lips as I’m filled with him. Yes, oh God yes. He starts fucking me hard, hips slamming against my ass, balls slapping against my pussy. Fuck, it feels amazing. So damned good.

“I’ve missed this so much,” he grunts, squeezing my hip. “You feel so good. Your pussy is made for my dick.”

“Harder, Max,” I scream. “God dammit, fuck me harder.”

“Jesus,” he groans, and then he fucks me harder.

Yes, he fucks me on that table as if it’s the last time we’ll get to be with each other. He makes it count. He makes it epic. I come around him so hard I’m sure my world goes white for a second or two before I feel him jerk his cock out and explode against my ass, hot come running between my cheeks. It’s so erotic; in fact, it’s the best sex I’ve ever had with Max.

We stay like that for a good long while, both of us catching our breath, then Max cleans me up and helps me off the table. He pulls my back into his chest and wraps an arm around my belly. “That was fucking hot, Blue Belle.”

“You’re telling me,” I murmur, tangling my fingers in his.

“As much as I’d love to stand here and be with you all night, I have to get to this fight.”

“Will you come back to me sweaty and ready to play again?”

He chuckles. “Always baby.”

He spins me around and kisses my lips, soft but quick, before letting me go and winking at me.

Then he’s gone.

And my heart explodes with happiness.

I
’m numb.

Totally numb.

The words are replaying over and over in my head like a nightmare.

It can’t be true. Not right now. Not when things are bad. This was meant to happen during the happiest moments of our lives, not the worst.

“Miss, are you there?”

“Y-y-y-yes.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m . . . are you sure?”

“The levels are very strong, and we can’t be one hundred percent sure until we do an ultrasound, but yes, it’s looking very positive.”

“Thanks,” I whisper, hanging up.

I’m pregnant.

Pregnant.

I’m going to have a baby with a man who can’t even stand being in the same room as me. Not only that but he is drinking, doing drugs and gambling. How can he possibly be the father that I always wanted him to be? I don’t know what to do. Why the hell would this happen to me now? I can’t cope with this right now.

Max certainly can’t cope with it.

Oh God, I’m pregnant.

How the hell am I going to tell him?

I don’t know, but I have to.

~*~*~*~

M
ax is staring at me, just standing there, staring. I want to open my mouth and let the words flow, but he’s been drinking and all I really want to do right now is punch him in the face. He’s sitting on the dining chair, practically glaring at me for calling him home urgently.

But this is urgent.

I have a baby growing inside me. Gosh, the very thought still makes me feel ill.

“Well, why am I here? What’s so urgent?”

“Have you been drinking?” I ask.

“Are you seriously going to pester me about shit that has nothing to do with right here and right now again?”

I sigh. “No, Max, I’m not. I just want you to answer the question. I need you to.”

“Yes, I’ve been drinking.”

“And gambling?”

He studies me. “What’s this about, Blue Belle?”

I flinch at his words, because he hasn’t called me that for a good month. It hurts and feels good at the same time.

“I need you to be honest with me, Max. I just . . . I just need you to be straight. Please, no matter what has happened in the last month, I need this from you.”

He studies my face, really studies it. Then he nods.

“Are you still smoking drugs?”

He nods.

“And gambling?”

He nods again.

My heart twists.

“Do you plan on stopping anytime soon?”

His eyes narrow and he sighs, running his hands through his hair. “Anabelle, this isn’t as simple as you think.”

“I’m a person, Max. I’m a damned person, and I deserve more than this. I deserve love and affection and a husband who cares. You told me you’d never hurt me . . .” My voice trails off and breaks.

I can’t look at him.

“So I’m asking you,” I push on, “I need honesty . . . please.”

“I don’t know if I’m going to stop,” he says, his emotion seeming to have been switched off.

“Are you going to tell me why this happened?”

His eyes flash. “What makes you think there’s anything wrong?”

Tears, ugly tears pour out. “So you’re just doing this because you feel like it? Because it’s fun?”

His eyes are hard again. The moment of softness is gone.

“Maybe I’m doing it because I don’t feel anymore.”

It’s as if someone has socked me in the gut. I take a shaky step back. “Pardon?”

“Maybe I don’t love you. Maybe I don’t want to be married. Maybe this is just a waste of time.”

I blink back the burning in my eyes, because what he’s saying can’t be right. He doesn’t love me anymore?

Suddenly, it makes sense. Him pulling away, him being an asshole, him making it clear what I mean to him. He’s fallen out of love with me—hell, maybe he never loved me in the first place. Maybe he just decided that it wasn’t fun anymore. Maybe he’s angry that because of me, he didn’t get the career he wanted.

“Is it because your life didn’t take the path you wanted?” I choke out.

“Maybe.”

I reach out and steady myself on the coffee table.

“It’s a simple answer,” I manage to say, even though my heart is splitting into a thousand tiny pieces. “Do you love me, or is it done?”

He stands, staring at me, his eyes scanning my face. Eyes that I love so damned much.

“No, I don’t love you anymore. I think we need a break.”

Agony rips into my soul and I wrap my hands around my belly, gasping for air. I never thought anything would hurt so much. His words penetrate into my very core and rip it into a thousand tiny shreds. Max . . . my lover, my husband, my best friend, doesn’t love me anymore.

“Did it ever mean anything?” I sob, brokenly.

“I honestly don’t know. Do yourself a favor, Anabelle—get yourself a better life. I’m not that life, and I think you need to accept that.”

He’s studying my face as if he’s waiting for something from me—I just don’t know what that something is. It almost looks as if he’s seeing how hard I’ll fight for him. What he doesn’t understand is that his words have ripped my already broken soul in half. If it was just me, maybe I’d fight, but I have a baby in my stomach.

So I say nothing.

His eyes flash, and then he closes off again and reaches over, grabbing his keys.

He says nothing more. He just walks out the door.

He just ripped my world to shreds, and now he’s leaving without a word.

I guess that leaves only one option for me, and my baby, who deserves so much more than this.