Page 145 of Downforce

I stare at it, admiring its thickness and the veins that stretch just beneath the layer of skin. It reminds me of the first time I saw the statue of David in Florence. I marveled at how such intricate beauty could’ve been carved into something so unforgiving as stone. It was the first time I realized how close to a higher being artists must be.

But, looking down at Max, I know that he was made by the source itself. This is the thought bounding through my mind as I lower my lips, kissing the tip of his dick.

“Fuck,” he grits out. “Baby. Princess,” he pants when I cover him with my mouth, taking him all of the way to the back of my throat.

Max isn’t small, and I’d been nervous about my gag reflex the first few times I’d taken him in my mouth. But he’s a challenge I’m eager to conquer.

I bob on him, using my saliva to get him nice and slippery before tonguing the rim of his cock. His body shudders beneath me, the hand in my hair tightening. He doesn’t pull, though. Nor does he force me down onto him, choking me.

Even when he’s on the verge of explosion, there’s care in his touch for me. Love in the way he pants out ‘princess’ and every curse that accompanies it.

He tells me he’s coming, but I already knew that from the tightness of his balls in my hand, and the way his entire body has just stiffened.

I don’t pull away.

I want to taste all of him while he empties into my mouth.

And I do.

I catch the spurts of come that emerge from the tip of his cock even as the most raging part of his orgasm has passed, licking him clean.

When I finally lift myself, I meet Max’s hooded gaze. He looks drunk, but not from alcohol. I’ve seen this look on his face many times over the past few months, but it never fails to elicit a sort of pride in me.

Knowing that I’m the one who sent him into a slight state of delirium is empowering in a way that I would never admit to anyone out loud.

“Ahh,” I screech when I find myself flat on my back, with Max hovering above me. How he went from looking completely spent to eyes blazing with renewed energy is a mystery. Especially, when he makes his way down my body, stripping me of the button-up top, floral skirt, and heels I wore out to dinner tonight.

In less than a minute, I’m naked save for the key pendant I’ve worn every day since the day he put it on me.

Max dives between my legs with the precision and expertise he’s channeled on the track this season. My back arches completely off of the bed, but he cups each side of my ass with his massive hands, holding me up to him like my pussy is the buffet he’s been waiting for all night.

He feasts on me with the same hunger and vigor that I took him into my mouth. My fingers dig into the sheets, ripping them from the corners of the bed. Our sounds—his wet and hungry, mine groaning in pleasure mixed with devilish curses—bounce off of the walls around us.

With Max’s mouth still firmly on me and my toes curling while the heels of my feet dig into his ass, I come. He doesn’t separate his mouth from me until a second orgasm winds its way through my channel.

After that, we’re both like animals. Or maybe just in love and hungry for one another. What little bit of clothing remained on either of us gets torn away and discarded like yesterday’s trash. Max has had time to recover, and my second orgasm barely passes before he’s over me, my legs wrapped around his hips as he thrusts inside of me.

“Shit,” I groan, twisting my face into the pillow.

Max covers the pendant that lays on my chest with his hand while holding on tightly to my hip with his other hand. We move in sync, thrusting, biting, touching, and searching each other’s bodies until exhaustion sets in.

By the time my third orgasm rolls around, Max’s second starts to overcome him. We rise together, clinging to one another, kissing and then panting while the storm rushes over us, threatening to take us under.

Somehow, we both emerge. Sweaty, breathless, and with scratches and marks that’ll likely turn into bruises, but all the more satisfied.

“Fuck, I love you,” he says against my lips.

His lips taste like salt from his sweat. I lick them clean.

“Love you, too.”

His eyes sparkle, despite his exhaustion.

He rolls our bodies over so that I’m laying on top of him. He’s still inside of me, and I have no inclination to change that.

“We didn’t use a condom,” he says after a few moments of us just watching one another.

“I know.”