Page 45 of Maximus

“What do you mean, which part?” she hissed. “All of it. And before you say it, yes, I know I was the one who started it.”

I took the two steps necessary to invade her personal space. Her torso jerked and her hands lifted, palms out, warning me off.

“I don’t think you sucking me off was a mistake.”

“Of course you wouldn’t.”

“Your mouth is fucking heaven.” I was so close, I felt and heard the air whoosh as she sucked in an angry breath. “I don’t think burying my cock inside your sleek, wet—”

“Stop.”

“And it certainly didn’t feel like a mistake when you were grinding your tight pussy on my—”

“I said, stop.”

“Why? You didn’t mind hearing me tell you to ride me harder when my cock was inside you. And you can try to deny that, but, honey, your pussy tells the truth. And when my mouth was on your perky tits, my hands on your ass, it was gushing wetness, and milking the come right out—”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what? Trying to figure out which part you think is a mistake?”

“Being an asshole. Trying to embarrass me. I was there, I remember—all of it seared into my memory. I don’t need a blow-by-blow of tonight’s events. I know I behaved like a hungry whore who couldn’t get enough, but that is not me. I know you think that it is, but I’ve never done that.”

“Done what? Had sex? Given a blow job? Because, babe, I have to tell you, if that was your first blow job, you’re a goddamn natural. Best head I’ve ever had. Bar none.”

“God, would you stop saying blow job?”

“All right. Then we’ll talk about why you called yourself a whore. Is that what you think about yourself because you like sex?”

“I don’t like sex.”

“You don’t? You could’ve fuckin’ fooled me.” I had to bite back a laugh at the horrified expression on her face.

Damn, she was cute.

“Why are you smiling?”

“Because you’re fuckin’ cute when you get all riled up.”

“I’m not riled up and I’m not cute.”

“You sure as shit are. Your nose scrunches.” And before I could stop myself, I reached up and tapped her on the nose. What in the actual fuck was wrong with me? When had I ever tapped a woman on the goddamned nose? Oh, well, fuck it, in for a penny… my finger traced up to her forehead and I smoothed the creases. “Your forehead scrunches and you bite your lip…” I moved my hand lower and swiped my thumb over her bottom lip, pulling the soft, abused flesh free.

All sorts of illicit memories flooded in, remembering what those puffy lips felt like wrapped around my cock. Thoughts that I should’ve been pushing out of my head, but, damn, I did not lie to Eva when I told her that was the best head I’d ever had.

“Why are you doing this?” Eva repeated, and my gaze left her lips to find she’d lost the angry-cute and gone straight to sad.

Christ, I was a dick.

I dropped my hand and took a step back, putting some much-needed distance between us.

“For the record, I don’t like it when you call yourself a whore. You’re not that. What you are is a beautiful, adult woman who is allowed to have and enjoy sex however it is you want to enjoy it. Neither of us did anything to be ashamed of. As far as it being a mistake.” I shrugged, not willing to commit to the notion. “It sucks you feel that way, but I can’t tell you how to feel. I can only tell you I don’t regret it. And if you want the truth; not only did I enjoy it, I hope it happens again.”

“You don’t regret it? But—”

“Two things I regret: I didn’t take my time with you, and the ending.”

“The ending?” Eva pulled in a breath, misunderstanding what I meant.