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“Drop your knees some more.”
I sink into the moment, his intent gaze roaming my face. His hand continues to play between my thighs before he burrows two fingers inside. All of my attention is right there, hyper-aware of the intimacy.
He pumps his fingers inside my channel, the heel of his palm grinding against my clit. He’s good at that. He knows how to touch a woman. I’m not sure what I expected the first time we made out, but I didn’t expect it to be so good. And I realise a lot can change in a very short space of time, and that the happiness, the acceptance I’m feeling now can quickly be replaced by negativity. But he plays my body like he knows it, my orgasm swelling to life as he finger fucks my puss with unparalleled skill.
My breasts heave up and down, my breathing turns choppy. Small gasps and moans rip from my mouth. And when I’m just about to crest that blissful wave of licking pleasure, Max covers my mouth with his, drinking in the cries of my orgasm.
When I’ve unravelled, gold-speckled eyes glitter down at me. Heavy-limbed, I sink into the bed and sigh happily. An enormous smile follows that I couldn’t stop if I wanted to.
Holy crap!
For the first time in ages, I had an orgasm. And I came at a man’s touch. Max’s.
“That was indescribable. And I can’t believe I came so easily,” I confess, aware that my head doesn’t hurt—at all. And I didn’t get any weird sensations or flashbacks. I’m in no waycured, but it’s a good sign. Optimistic that things could be normal, or as close to normal as they get, my confidence rises sky-high.
Max is still stretched out beside me, his long, hard body curling around mine.
Carefully, he eases his fingers out. “Silky like your skin,” he murmurs, rubbing a thumb over his index and middle finger where I coat him. “So slick.” Slowly, he puts his fingers in his mouth and sucks them clean. Briefly, his eyes close before they blink back open again, his eyelashes long and dense. “You’re very responsive.”
“To you,” I point out.
“Yeah, to me,” he agrees with certainty before laying his mouth on mine and kissing me again. I can taste myself on his tongue, and I can taste his hunger for more. In the next breath, he lies back, tugging me with him. Draped half on him, half on the mattress, I prop myself up on his chest and look down at him.
For a second, I begin to wonder why my bodyhasreacted so well to Max when it was hopeless with Jonas. Is it just that I needed time? Or maybe I needed a different partner, a partner who hadn’t lived through the horrible experience with me? If I tried again with Jonas now—not that I would, of course—would things be easier between us?
Tenting out from Max’s sleep bottoms is an impressive, towering erection. I can’t take my eyes off it.
“Get your hands on me, anywhere, everywhere, and put me out of my misery.”
We share a laugh at his obvious discomfort, and I love the ambiance between us, this mixture of fun and tender, intense and fragile. It feels natural and easy, even if I feel exposed, naked as I am, and a bit broken. Feeling chilly, I reach for my pyjamas, but Max’s voice stops me.
“No clothes. Naked. I want to feel your breasts against my chest. Feel your beautiful skin sliding against mine. But mostly, I want to look at you. All of you.”
His heated gaze flickers over my body. I nod my agreement, wondering if being naked is the baptism of fire I thought I might need.
Sliding onto my knees, I shuffle down the bed a little and put my hands at the waistband of his pyjamas. He helps me, tucking himself away as I lift the material over his groin and wriggle it down his leanly sculpted thighs.
I almost want to delay the moment I look at his body—his cock specifically—and worry about where I’m throwing his clothes, searching the room for a good spot to chuck them. But I remind myself I’ve seen several male appendages in my twenty-six years—that I know of.
And just urggghhhh, why did I think of that now?
Thrown by my idiotic thought process, I concentrate on his hungry, alert eyes. Lying on my left side I close the gap between us, my breasts squishing against his ribs. With my right hand, I glide my fingers down his chest, over tense muscle and ticklish skin.
His twitching pecs and abs is such a normal reaction that I feel comforted. He has some darkish hair on his chest, but not much, and he has a smattering of hair below his navel to his groin. “You have a really attractive body.” A more accurate description would be magnificent. All that swimming shows in the shoulders, the muscular back and chest, the tight abs.
“I prefer yours.”
I chuckle, feeling his eyes dance over my smile.
I kiss his chest, licking his nipples and memorising his shape as I trail my lips down to his lightly corrugated abdomen. I linger there for a while, kissing and nipping. Not only can I smell the vetiver and bergamot radiating off his newly washed, warm skin, but I can smell him, smell his need. It’s an intoxicating mix of musk and man.
It makes my blood roar.
My cheek nudges the head of his cock as I navigate his lower torso, so finally, I look at it.
It’s an intimidating size, I’m not going to lie. Swollen and veiny, a bead of moisture oozes from the tip. My mouth waters for a taste, my tongue licking across my lower lip.
A rumbly noise simmers inside Max’s chest, but I’m too in awe of his long, thick cock and the tight heavy balls to look at his face. My lips part as I catch my breath, considering how and when I want to get more familiar with this part of him.
