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“That’s because I’m faking it.”

Max laughed. “Do whatever you feel like. I’m all yours.”

My throat tightened.

Max isn’t giving up control—he’s giving it to me.

I kissed him again, moving my hands gently over his shoulders, learning the shape of him in a different way. When I pushed his knees to his chest, Max hooked his arms around them, and the openness of it took my breath away.

I managed a chuckle. “Something you want?”

“Well, if you’re going to prep my hole…. Your tongue would be good. Not to mention some lube, because it’s been a while.” His eyes gleamed. “Have you ever rimmed anyone before?”

I narrowed my gaze. “Are you going to be like this all the way through?” And without waiting for a reply, I bent down and licked over his pucker.

Max’s low groan was music to my ears.

I liked it when I reduced him to sounds, and I was going to keep him like that for as long as I could manage it.

Sliding lube-slick fingers into his hole had me so hard, I felt I was in real danger of coming before my dick got even an inch inside him. But when I finally eased into him, Max’s legs wrapped around my waist, I let out a sigh.

“Oh, you feel good.”

Max’s hands were on my nape, and he pulled me down into a kiss. I cradled the back of his head with one hand, raising it off the pillow as I moved in and out of him, taking my time, relishing the warmth of him, the tightness, the feeling of being connected. And all through it, we kissed, we touched, as though we couldn’t get enough of each other. I slid all the way home, then stilled inside him, our lips meeting, his hands on my face, my shoulders, my back, a constant stream of sighs and moans filling my ears.

“Max… gonna come…”

He nodded, his gaze locked on me as he tugged on his dick. I gasped when his body tightened around my shaft. He did it again, and again, until I couldn’t hold on a second longer. Our lips fused into a fervent kiss as I shot hard inside him, and Max groaned into it, holding me to him.

Then warmth spread between us, and I deepened the kiss, not wanting it to end.

A raw sound escaped Max’s lips, and he slid his hand up my back, his fingers pressing between my shoulders as though he wanted to keep me there. For a moment the world narrowed to the space between us, the slow rhythm of our breathing, and the warmth of his skin beneath my hands.

I want this.

I want him.

Max

Quinn lay beside me, the sheets tangled around our legs.

I stared at the ceiling, aware of my breathing slowly evening out, aware of Quinn’s hand resting against my ribs as though he wanted to make sure I was still there.

“How are you?” he asked eventually.

The question made me smile. “Isn’t that my line?”

“Usually,” Quinn admitted. “But tonight I thought I’d borrow it.”

“In that case, I’m good.”

“Just good?”

I turned to look at him. “What are you after, a Dom’s performance review?”

He smiled. “Maybe? Did I pass?”

I covered his hand with mine. “You were excellent.”