Max kissed her again and then kissed her neck and shoulders and breasts. He tasted every part of her as she came down from her high. She barely even noticed him slipping the toy from her hand and moving it aside.
“Do you know how beautiful you look right now?” heasked her, planting another kiss to her neck. “Watching you come like that? I don’t think I’ve ever been this hard in my life.”
Stella, needing to confirm this, reached for him, feeling the hard press of his dick in his pants.
“Take off your clothes,” she said.
Max did not argue, promptly pushing himself up and stripping down, his clothes joining hers on the floor. He quickly grabbed a condom from his pants pocket and slid it on, Stella watching all the while, somehow both incredibly satisfied and buzzing with anticipation.
When he finally climbed back over her, Stella was more than ready. And when he slid into her, they both groaned with pleasure.
There was no starting slow this time. Max gripped her thighs and Stella wrapped her legs around him as he pushed in deeper. He began moving quick and fast, pounding into her in a way that she knew would leave her bruised and sore tomorrow but she didn’t care because it felt so good.
“Fuck, Stella, I can’t—”
Max came quickly and Stella held him, her arms around his neck, pulling him to her as his breaths came hard and fast. When his breathing had finally gone back to normal, he kissed her.
“I’m sorry,” he said, their mouths barely an inch apart.
“For what?”
Stella was genuinely confused. That was maybe the best sex she’d ever had, and sure, Max was competing against himself, but still.
“I know you didn’t come, Stella.”
He said it almost like an admonishment, and Stella rolled her eyes.
“Well, obviously you know that,” Stella said. “I didn’t try to fake an orgasm just now, did I? But I’m good, Max. If you recall, I came first. As the good Lord intended.”
This made Max laugh and he kissed her again.
And again.
And again.
Thirty-Three
Max woke with a start, but he didn’t know what had woken him.
“Stella, are you home?”
Stella, whose head was resting on Max’s bare chest, began to stir, but her eyes remained closed as she snuggled in closer to Max. Outside the room, he could hear someone, presumably Stella’s roommate, moving around the kitchen, opening cabinets.
Max wasn’t sure what to do here. He hadn’t woken up in someone else’s bed in years, and he was unsure of the protocol. Would Stella want him to sneak out without being seen, or would she not care? They were all adults, after all. He was probably overthinking this.
Max tapped Stella’s shoulder, but she didn’t budge. He considered shaking her awake, but that seemed aggressive, and truthfully, she looked so relaxed against him that he couldn’t bear to disrupt her sleep. He got the feeling that withthis whole Sprint Week thing she needed the rest. They did also wear themselves out pretty good last night as well.
He grinned at the memory. Watching Stella make herself come last night was something he’d likely replay in his mind for the rest of his days.
“Shit!”
Something clattered to the floor in a crash, and Stella’s eyes popped open. At first, she looked at Max slightly bewildered, as if she couldn’t remember how he’d gotten there, and then she relaxed against him again until another crash came from the kitchen, causing Stella to pop up again.
“Chelsea’s home,” she said.
Max wasn’t sure if Stella sounded resigned, angry, or scared. Whatever it was he was hearing, it certainly wasn’t joy.
“Do we not like Chelsea?” he asked carefully.
