“Please make me come,” I whisper. “I’m so turned on. I need to come.”
“We’ve barely even scratched the surface, Peaches. Have you been turned on all evening?” he asks evenly, and I nod. “Did it turn you on when I complimented dinner? And talked about what a great cook you are?”
I nod again. “Yes.”
“My sweet girl really does have a thing for praise,” he murmurs. Gripping my head, he crashes our lips together, immediately slipping his tongue into my mouth. The velvet smoothness slides confidently around my tongue, and I wrap my arms around his neck. God, he makes me feel so good.
Lightning illuminates the apartment as Max grabs the hem of my shirt. I raise my arms, and he pulls it over my head, then grabs the straps of my bra, yanking them down my arms. When my boobs pop free, he sucks a nipple deep into his mouth, and I cry out. He alternates between my nipples as I shamelessly rock against his cock. I feel an orgasm rocketing toward me, and just as I’mabout to fall off the cliff, Max stills my movements. “Don’t you dare come yet, Layla. You come when I say so.”
No! He’s not allowed to be an asshole right now! Can’t he save that shit for the team?
Max chuckles, the heat of his breath causing goosebumps to erupt over my chest. “I can be an asshole at workandat home, baby. But I’ll make you feel so good, you’ll let me do it again and again.”
“I thought I only said that in my head,” I admit. “But I’m not apologizing.”
“Didn’t figure you would,” he answers. “Now take off your pants.”
“Take them off me yourself,” I sass, then giggle nervously when he responds with a wicked grin.
“Oh, this is how we’re playing it? Okay.” Max puts his hands on my waist, manhandling me onto my feet, then grabs the waistband of my shorts. They’re thin cotton, mostly what I wear when I’m relaxing at home, so I shouldn’t be surprised when he rips them right off my body, but I am.
“Max!” I shriek. “I didn’t mean it that way!”
He shrugs. “Should have been specific, Peaches. I did what you asked.”
Sticking my lower lip out in an exaggerated pout, I pop my hands on my hips. “You had to have known I didn’t want them to be ruined.”
“Isn’t that something men do in romance books?” he asks, reaching out to stick a finger under the band of my thong, running the tip along my skin.
“It is, but I don’t think men actually do it in real li — wait.” I pause, watching as Max smirks at me. “How did you know that?”
“One thing you need to know about me,” he says huskily, sliding his arms around to pull me toward him, “is that I’m always up for research. Women read romance books. I wanted to know why women read them, so I put in some time. How do you think I knew they are calledspicybooks?”
“And what did you learn?” I ask, curiosity clear in my voice. I find it insanely attractive how Max keeps surprising me.
His hands slip to cup my ass. “Do you want to know what I learned about love, or about what is written about sex?”
I swallow harshly. “The latter.”
Max kneads my ass in response, and I almost moan. “Women like dirty talk in books. They want to come more than once, and they’d like to be creative with locations and positions. Sex on top of a bar after a restaurant is closed. At the top of a ski run. Against a tree in broad daylight. Honestly, the options are limitless.”
“Did you, uh, learn anything about what you want during sex?” I whisper.
He nods. “I want control and to have your eyes on me every time you come. I want your taste and smell to seep from my pores. And I need you to sit on my fucking face right the fuck now before I take you over my knee and spank you for not cooperating.”
I feign indignation, even as my core lights up. “You did not just suggest you’d spank me!”
His hand slips between my thighs from behind, and I loudly groan. “Baby. Don’t even act like you wouldn’t love it. I can feel how much wetter you got at the mere suggestion.”
“I don’t want to be a masochist,” I admit, my voice no louder than a whisper.
Max nods, smiling understandably. “You’re not. If the only way you could get off was by me inflicting pain, then it would be a different story. Now. Are you going to take off this tiny piece of fabric that is covering that delectable pussy, or do I need to rip that off as well?”
Muffling a curse, I quickly pull my thong down, determined to keep at least one piece of my clothing intact. Max lays down on the couch, then crooks a finger at me, beckoning me forward.
“Watch the storm,” he murmurs as I position one knee on each side of his head.
“But I thought you wanted my eyes on you,” I reply, confused.
