Page 40 of Tender Offer (Chance at Love #3)

Madison

C an aspirin relieve a headache in your vagina?

Preston was always a passionate lover, but the way he left me tired, speechless, and contemplating the meaning of life is wild.

His tongue expelled me of all reminders of mediocre lovers who’ve licked my pussy with little energy and zero enthusiasm. Forget anything with a hand. Half of them fingered like they were digging for spare change in the cracks of a couch.

Preston did more than please me last night—he revived my mind, body, and soul.

It was perfect. The dinner. The bench next to his mother’s with that inscription.

I will love you until the day after forever.

Soft snores gently lift the muscles in his back. Half of his body is above my duvet, concealing the ass that pistoned into me and the long, toned legs that slammed into the backs of my thighs when he took me from behind.

When we were in Paris, waking up next to him was my favorite part of the day.

I’d watch him sleep on the days when early meetings and constant travel didn’t take him away.

In sleep, his usual sharp and confident profile was at peace.

Sometimes, I’d catch his dimples when he smiled at whatever had his mind at ease. They’re here now.

His lashes curl over his eyes, which are creased with crow’s feet. The first hints of silver lightly dust his tousled strands on the pillow that cushions half of his face.

No one has ever gone to such lengths to earn me. I can lay our past to rest where it belongs. I want to accept his tender offer with no reservations.

But there is one reservation….and I can’t shake it.

Somewhere in the back of my mind is a voice warning me that what’s too good to be true often is.

“The purpose of sleeping in is to sleep,” Preston mumbles. He pops an eye open and grabs my arm. “Come here.” I leave my side for his chest when he rolls over and nestles me into the crook of his arm. “What are you up to?”

“Thinking,” I say.

“About?”

“This. Us.”

His lips tip into a grin. Why does he have to be so fine this early? “I see,” he says, stroking his goatee, which I might’ve sucked on more than once last night. “Ready to accept my tender offer?” He casts me a glance with hooded eyes.

“I didn’t say that.” I giggle at the grumble that rattles his broad chest. “I’m not trying to be difficult. There’s just a lot to consider.”

“Like?”

“Like you being a busy CEO, for starters. If you’re not in meetings twenty-four seven, you’re traveling.”

Preston kisses the headscarf I had the sense to put on after our shower earlier this morning.

“I will always make time for you, Puff. Delegation is a value among my team. I can’t guarantee there won’t be moments of busyness—or the need to travel—but I’ll always check in and ensure you’re comfortable. You are my top priority.”

Good answer.

“Just like that?” My brows narrow.

“I know the boss pretty well.” He winks and pulls my thigh across his waist. “What else?”

“There’s the obvious location issue. Your life is in London; mine is here.”

“True,” he nods. “We still have time to figure that out. I won’t go longer than a week apart, though.”

“So, what—I pack my things and move across the pond?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“And wait for you to get home?” Tuh. “What about my life and my career?” London treats me well, but that doesn’t mean I’ll become his shadow.

He sits up against my upholstered gunmetal headboard and takes me with him.

“I respect you tremendously, Puff. Your business included. My company’s headquarters and board are in London.

If you want to stay in New York, I’ll move, but I’ll need to travel two, maybe three times a month to check in.

” His fingers curve under my chin. When I meet his eyes, there’s a soft assurance in them.

“My being a hotelier does not mean you have to give up your dreams for me. My brother can run the London office if necessary. KD, our CFO, is in Paris. Me in New York could work. I want you to be comfortable and feel like you have a voice, because you do.”

“You have an answer for everything, don’t you?”

“For you, always.”

The breath I release is sharp. “Thank you,” I say. My voice lacks its usual guardedness. “The women in my family are all strong, but they sacrificed their desires to support their spouses’ dreams. I want a family of my own, but not at the expense of putting my goals on the back burner.”

“We’re partners, Puff. Equals. I admire your work ethic and the space you create for yourself in the fashion industry. You’re smart, beautiful, and exceptionally talented. I’d be a fool not to support you the way your man should.”

“So you’re my man now?” My mouth quirks up. “That’s news to me.”

He shrugs. “Been waiting for you to catch up. I know what I want. We can go at your pace, but you’re it for me, baby.”

I squeal when he pounces on me. There’s no point crawling away with his grip on my ankle. The burn in my cheeks from laughing fatigues my muscles to mush. They match my legs, which he used as bendy straws all night. Preston smacks my ass and drags me back across a bed of rumpled sheets.

My vagina pulsates at his face between my cheeks. He takes a long sniff and groans. “If you don’t get this pussy out of my face, I’m sucking on it until you soak the sheets again. Ass too.”

“You are so nasty,” I laugh and flip onto my back. He finds a home between my thighs and kisses my lips—the ones on my face. “I don’t recall you being a super freak in Paris.”

“Says the woman who sprayed the floor and window in front of an audience last night.” The smile hovering above my face fades. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, for the third time.” I smirk and drag a hand up the muscles flexing in his arm. “I don’t want to put on a show every day, but I enjoyed the rush.”

I was so high on pleasure last night that it took me a minute to register we had company.

The face was a mystery of dark lines and shadows, but the burly outline of a figure was undeniable.

We were far enough away to keep some privacy, which turned me on even more.

The thrill of being on full display was an indescribable power.

Me commanding attention while Preston worshipped me on his knees with his tongue…

Phew!

“I want to do it again at some point,” I say. “At Ravenous.”

Preston’s stare raises the hairs on my arms. My heart jolts, and my lips part to suck in the air that’s now thickened under his gaze. Fine and intense mix through angled brows, perky lips, and a sharp jawline.

“That can be arranged,” he says, his voice a steady timbre. “We only host a handful of events a year, so as not to compete with the established clubs.”

“Is that what you want, a full-time club?”

He shakes his bedhead. “No. The allure of Ravenous is its limited access. Pop-ups on our properties here and there.”

“Okay.”

“Ask what you’re thinking.” His fingers brush over my bottom lip, which is caught between my teeth.

“I like having an outlet to explore my…kinks. Will you be at every event?”

“Not every. I went to Vail because it was our first one in the States.”

It’s still wild to think a pop-up play space was right under my nose at the singles’ retreat. Not that I would’ve been shaking my titties for all to see. Kink exploration is a new territory I’m settling into.

More like diving into spread-eagle, but okay.

“I can send William and KD from now on, if you want,” he adds.

“Because of the different laws, our London pop-up will be the only one with intercourse.” He leans onto his forearm to graze the side of my face with his knuckles.

“I’ve done a lot over the years, Puff. I enjoy Ravenous, but it’s not a requirement for my pleasure.

If you want to play in public, we’ll go.

If not, I don’t need to be there, outside of checking logistics occasionally.

” His lips brush mine. “I have everything I need right here.”

I welcome him and the slide of his tongue. Crushed to his chest, the weight of his body is a blanket. His dick prods at my entrance, exploring its developing slickness.

“Okay,” I murmur.

Preston kisses my lips again. “What else did you want to do? I’m yours for the day and at your service.”

“At my service, huh? I know somewhere you failed to perform.”

His frown meets my grin as I nod to the untouched birthday cake on my nightstand.

Knowing how to ride a horse comes in handy when you’re straddling a man with a third leg.

The burn in my thighs spread over smooth, prominent quads extinguishes at Preston’s mouth on my nipple.

“Fuck me, Puff,” he grits out in a strained voice. His arms surround my waist like vines, his legs in a sprawl to match my pace.

I grin when his right foot twitches. Someone is happy.

“You good, Thumper?” My breathy laugh becomes a yelp at his nip to my collarbone.

We’ve been at it for…I lost track, but I imagine it’s almost noon. I have cake crumbs in my ass, icing smeared over my breasts and booty, and not a single care for the mess we’re making in my bed.

Preston reaches for what’s left of my chocolate ganache cake and pulls off a piece. Neither of us thought to grab a fork before playing with our body parts.

Baked goodness breaches my mouth at the press of his fingers. Preston pulls my mouth to his by the back of my neck, and we trade cake with our tongues. His hands slide down my waist to hold me in place as I grind harder over his length.

With the way he’s hitting my vital organs, it’s a miracle I can chew and ride dick at the same time.

The wave of another orgasm rises to a crescendo that turns into an icy bucket of water when my bedroom door opens and Jewel waltzes in with a smile.

“I got her right here. Oh my fuck!”

“What are you doing?!” I try and fail at pulling up the sheets. Whatever’s not on the floor is under the weight of the man whose penis is still inside of me.

“ Ki moun nonm-cála? ” a voice asks from the phone.

Whatever color is left in my face fades alongside my dignity.

My mother is on a video call with Jewel, asking about the man in my bed. He’s hard and very much naked.

Jewel snaps out of the shock that naturally comes with catching your aunt in the act. “ Mo chagrin, auntie! ” Her natural curls spiral over her face as she drops her gaze. “I had an exam yesterday, and I forgot to call. I got my Mawmaw on the phone—”

“Still naked, Jewel,” I hiss.

“Yup! Um.” She thumbs to the living room. “Going.”

“Oh, my word.” I groan into my hands. “ Bon fèt , Madison.”

“She wants to see him!” Jewel yells from my living room.

Of course she does.

“My mother would like to meet you. How are you still hard?”

The dick brushing my uterus twitches, and Preston levels me with a stare. “I’m still inside you, Puff. Ask me that question again.”

The cake smeared across his mouth would be funny if my family didn’t have a front-row seat to us fucking.

Six minutes and the fastest duck bath of my life later, we’re on my sofa, facing off with Babet Monroe.

Eyes the shade of coffee dart between me and Preston, who’s wearing his suit from last night.

A curved brow lifts but dissolves into a poker face of rich cheekbones, full lips, and espresso skin smoothed in shea butter.

“Who are ya people?” she directs at Preston.

He clears his throat with a glance my way and the nerves of a high school boyfriend caught sneaking out the window. “Hello, ma’am. I’m Preston Donnelley. My people”—he blinks, unsure how to answer—“are from Italy and England. Sicily, specifically.”

“ Ki cé t? louvraj ?”

“She wants to know what you do for work,” I tell him. My mama speaks English just fine but will toss in Creole simply because she can.

“I own a hotel brand, ma’am.”

My mother’s stare could bend metal. Her mask is in place, but I catch the intrigue. “England and Italy,” she repeats. “What else is in ya?”

A dimple appears at the edge of his smile. “My grandmother is Black Sicilian,” Preston says in complete adoration for the woman who influenced his life. “My mother was too.”

“Was?”

“She died after childbirth,” he clarifies.

Mama’s frown softens. She stares at Preston, her eyes misting at the thought of a child losing their parent on their birthday. We never navigated that form of grief together. But his birthday is a few months away, and I plan to be there for him however he needs.

My hand twines with his, and he sets them on his thigh.

“I’m very sorry, cher ,” she says.

“Thank you, ma’am.” His tone dulls but remains steady.

Mama shifts her attention to me. “How long this been going on, Maddie? Jewel got me on the video to see my daughter smeared in cake and fornication.”

“Mama.”

“Nah, child. Don’t ‘mama’ me. Let me find out you got a whole man under our noses this entire time.

” She takes in Preston, who looks ready for a photo shoot with his semi-tamed hair and dreamy eyes.

“Her daddy is off messing with a boat, so I’ll ask on his behalf.

What are your intentions with my child?”

“Mama,” I plead.

“Hush. You’re thirty-eight now, but you’re still my baby.”

“If I’m fortunate, Madison will be my wife,” Preston says like he’s telling her the weather. “I love and have loved her in the fifteen years that separated us.”

Her crown of coiled black hair swivels in my direction. My sigh is silent, to ward off a virtual pop in the mouth. “Madison Désirée Monroe!” my mama snaps. “I could’ve had more grandbabies by now? Whatcha waiting for?”

I cut my eyes at Preston, who’s grinning from ear to ear at his new accomplice. “Mama, we have to go. I love you.”

“Love you too, cher . I expect you home this summer. Bring my son.”

Preston waves. “Goodbye, Mrs. Monroe.”

“Call me mama, baybee ,” she all but coos at the man who was licking icing out of my ass twenty minutes ago. Then she hangs up.

“I think she likes me,” he says.

“She likes the idea of her almost forty-year-old daughter married and pregnant.” I roll my eyes as he shifts closer to kiss my cheek. “Think you have a new friend?”

He grins. “I hope.”

“Good luck getting through that one.” I nod to Jewel, who’s glowering at her tablet with a rage that grew from a simmer to a boil in a matter of minutes. “Jewel eats the rich for sport. Especially billionaires.”

“This you?” She flips the screen to reveal an article about Preston’s net worth.

The proof is in Times New Roman, not that he can hide his wealth in this age of information and internet detectives.

Thirty seconds is all it took for the switch to flip and Preston to calculate the drop from the living room window.

“Um.” He clears his throat.

“It wasn’t a question,” Jewel declares. “Come on, and bring your wallet.”

I pat his leg and leave him in the lion’s den known as my niece’s lair.

“You too, auntie!” she calls from the front door. “We’re going to Brooklyn.”