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“I ache,” I complain. “I haven’t ached for anyone in ages,” I admit quietly.
His eyes rake over me as he processes my words. “Because it’s you and me, running girl. That’s why.”
I nod, my body burning up with impatience and need.
He lies down next to me. “That was,” he says, kissing me greedily, “an incredible—” more kissing “—blow job.”
His fingers skim up and down my legs, around the backs of my knees, and up up up until he’s sliding them along my slit. But he doesn’t touch me there for long, just a brief, glancing moment of contact. His mouth falls to my breasts, giving me another small love bite.
It’s a different kind of brand. An acceptable one.
When his hand smooths over my bottom, he finds the ink on my skin. He leans over to look at it, and I’m worried it will feel like we’ve hit the reset button. That the fizz burning between us will go flat like an opened bottle of champagne left overnight.
“It needs to go.”
“We’ll tattoo it into something else. I’ll draw you something.”
I settle onto my back, Max climbing between my spread legs. Circling my erect nipple with his index finger, his eyes drill deep into mine. It’s so starkly intimate. So very erotic and overtly sexual. “Do you want me to be gentle and slow, or force things?” he murmurs, his eyes now following the lazy trail of his finger.
My back bows as I chase more. Always wanting more of his maddening touch. “To force a reaction?”
“Yeah,” he agrees, dipping his head to my nipple and laving it with a wicked tongue. “Dubious consent triggers you. Maybe we should explore that.”
I’m desperate for him. I think I’d agree to anything right now, but from a scientific angle he’s right. “Okay.”
With unhurried confidence, he licks around the areola with the tip of his tongue, following the exact route his finger had taken. His free hand slides lower and lower until I feel him circling my clit with a finger, the throbbing ache in my core intensifying. Moving into a better position, he kisses his way down my stomach, nibbling, and biting, shimmying his long body to my side. As I writhe and squirm from his touch, he drags my bottom to the edge of the mattress and lifts it onto a pillow.
“Hurry.”
He gives me a dirty smile, a mix of heat and desire creating a heady cocktail that I want to drink down. Reaching for my ankles he throws my legs over his shoulders before bending down and fixing his mouth to my pussy.
And holy hell, his mouth is like liquid fire. He eats up every part of me, licking through my drenched cleft with practised intent. I watch him swallow, watch his eyes close briefly. “Fuck, you taste good. I want all of this,” he growls into my puss, licking into every corner and crease.
With frustratingly teasing movements, he pushes his tonguedeep, in and then out, in and out. Heat builds slowly until I feel consumed by it. It won’t be long before I blow apart, because my body is a trembling, slicked-up open invitation to play at his command, a position he’s very capable at. And his touch is beautifully soft, his tongue hot and wet as it glides from the front to the back in long, greedy strokes. Sinking two fingers inside me, he sucks intently on my clit, bringing me closer and closer to my juddering climax.
My body turns hot, every nerve ending blistering as I ride high on that wave. In the end, it’s all too good. I contract and convulse around him, pressing his face into my sex until I wonder if he can breathe.
Drained, I let go, only to feel him licking me again. “You’re so swollen and puffy. And I want another taste—once will never be enough.”
My second orgasm is quick and intense. I expect Max to crawl up the bed to kiss me, to move this on to the next stage, but he brings the soles of my feet to his shoulders, exposing me more fully as he gifts me a third, and then a crippling fourth.
“Max,” I murmur, our eyes connecting for a hot second. My body is flushed and sensitive, so I tell him, “I can’t go again.” But he just repositions, pushing against the backs of my thighs until my feet are up by my ears. His hands inch up and up, over my stomach until they’re covering my tits, his fingers pinching my nipples until they’re hard and achy. But I surrender to everything as he feasts, eliciting a fifth, then a debilitating sixth orgasm from me.
“Max, oh God.”
Holy hell, his mouth is proficient, his touch blissful as I float away on a cloud. I didn’t expect intimacy and sex to be this good, but I’m beyond tired and sore, and in desperate need of a drink.
Max lifts from between my spread thighs, his attention locked on my pussy as if he’s thinking of staying down there for longer, but then his eyes crawl over my naked flesh and set on me. The look in his eyes is feral, and if it wasn’t for my sore throat I’d swallow with trepidation. But Iamthirsty, so I swallow, even though there’s nothing to lubricate my throat.
“Thirsty?” Max asks, his voice low. There’s a dark timbre to it I don’t recognise. He moves over me, his straining length wet at the tip as he gets to his knees. “Let me fill that mouth.”
And then he straddles my chest, shoving his cock down my throat.
CHAPTERFIFTEEN
MAX
Light filtersinto Ava’s eyes, turning them a lustrous, bright silver. Rising above her, I grip the headboard and plunder her mouth. The long black lashes of her eyelids flutter like feathers, spit dribbling from the corner of her mouth as I go deep.
