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“Obviously it made you laugh,” I mumble.
“It made me hard.”
***
Those words bounce around in my mind, messing with my senses for the entire journey back home, which I’m certain is much shorter than it should be. Max is driving like a man possessed. When we finally reach his apartment, we wordlessly give in to our desire, not even making it to his bedroom.
He kisses my jaw and the column of my neck, biting me gently at the base of it. Damn if that’s not a turn-on. I dig my fingers in his arms to show my appreciation, then run my hands down his chest feeling him up shamelessly.
“I will make you feel so good tonight that you won’t want to leave my bed ever again,” he murmurs against my skin.
His voice is inviting, and everything about him beckons to me. His eyes, full of kindness and desire alike; his hands, searching and comforting at the same time. With every kiss and every word, he carves himself a place in my heart. He hoists me up on the counter in the kitchen, undoing the zipper of my dress, which falls to my lap, leaving my breasts exposed to him. His nostrils flare as he takes a sharp inhale.
“I’ve wanted to do this the entire evening.” His thumbs caress the sides of my breasts, making my insides instantly tighten. Every word coming out of his mouth feels like a sinful promise. My body hums at his proximity, yearning for more of his touch. But Max doesn’t seem to be in a hurry. His thumbs still torture the sides of my boobs in the lightest of caresses. Such a simple movement, such a devastating effect.
“O-okay,” I stutter, drawing in a deep breath.
“Put your arms on my shoulders and wrap your legs around me.” His voice drips strength and masculinity, a combo that makes me inherently trust him even though I don’t know what he intends to do. I do as he says, and without warning, he lifts my ass off the counter. I tighten the grip of my legs around him, lacing my fingers at the back of his neck.
“Don’t worry,” he says, as if sensing my thoughts. “I won’t let you fall.”
“I know,” I whisper. Max leads us to the bedroom, putting me on the bed, removing my dress and thong. Wordlessly he removes his own clothes as well, and as I watch him reveal more and more of his skin, I can’t help a little movie playing in my mind.
“Why are you smiling?” he inquires.
“I was imagining you as a stripper.”
Max chuckles, but doesn’t stop removing his clothes. “You have a dirty little mind, Emilia.”
“You need a stripper name.” I frown, tapping my jaw with my forefinger, feigning to be thinking hard. “The Amazing Max?”
“That’s too tame. How about Orgasm Machine? Or—”
“You need to earn such a name first,” I tease, flaunting my hand as if he couldn’t possible deserve the nickname.
“Challenge accepted. Lie on your back.”
I do as he says, now looking forward to his sweet torture even more than before.
“Spread your legs for me.” The commanding tone in his voice sends tendrils of heat low in my body.
“What if I don’t want to?”
“Oh, you’ll want to.”
We engage in a battle of stares, and he wins of course. I spread my legs and he settles between them, lounging over me.
Max peppers my chest with kisses, my nipples puckering almost painfully, begging for his attention. He licks the sides of my breasts with the tip of his tongue.
“Your skin tastes so sweet.”
My hips buck off the bed as need sears me, but Max takes his damn time, nuzzling one nipple and then the other.
Finally, finally he descends with his kisses, lingering around my navel for a few excruciating seconds before going further down. But then he proceeds to kiss my inner thighs, completely ignoring my center. I writhe and moan as his lips nuzzle the soft skin of my legs.
“Max, please.”
“You’re so wet,” he murmurs as he drags his thumb up and down my entrance, making me shudder. “I love seeing you like this.”
