AllFreeNovel
Share Us
As always, Logan is eager to say hello when we enter the house. Max walks towards the kitchen, so I follow, passing the house manager’s office.
“Will I meet Jeremy today?”
“Unlikely, he’s running an errand for me.”
“So he’s an assistant too, for work?”
Max unlocks a door, Logan bounding into the impressive garden. “Of sorts. He manages the security, oversees my household staff—they come Monday to Thursday—and he drives for me sometimes. But mainly he makes sure the house and my schedule are running well.”
“Sounds like a good find.”
“He’s ex-military and trustworthy. He’s my right hand.”
“Hand of the king?” I tease, surveying his magnificent home again.
“If that makes you my queen,” he replies, taking hold of my hand and swinging me into his embrace. I gaze into his warm, searching eyes. “That makes you my girlfriend, doesn’t it? My metaphorical queen.”
Words fail me at the sight of his fervid look.
“I want you, Ava, in all the ways a man can want a woman. I thought I’d lost you last weekend, and I was not happy.”
“You’ve not lost me. In fact, it’s the exact opposite. I want you too, because of everything and despite everything.”
His mouth drops to mine, his kiss long and drawn out, a reenactment of how he wants to fuck me—tantalisingly slow, teasing, hovering on that frustrating line of just not hard or fast enough.
“Can we go to bed?” I ask, my restraint gone.
Quickly, Logan is called back inside. Then Max hoists me up, securing his arms around my thighs as he walks up the curving stairs to the second floor. His lair. And even though I can see he understands the need to disregard what happened to me, I can also see caution in his eyes. He wants to check in, to ensure I’ll be okay.
But he won’t ask that damning question.
After dropping me to my feet, I immediately start to undress him. Pulling his sweater over his head, I throw it to the floor before unbuttoning his shirt with shaky fingers. I kiss his chest, tasting vetiver-infused skin, while my hands move the leather strap of his belt through the buckle. I lower the zip, the soft purr of the metal teeth mixing with my laboured breaths.
With a slow, insistent touch, his warm hands slide down my back and over my bum where he holds me, pulling me against him. I get the sense that he’s delaying things, enjoying the moment, even though he strikes me as someone who isn’t often into delayed gratification.
My heart is wickedly fast.
He reaches for the fastening of my wool dress, the material falling away from my frame as he slides the zip down. His hands cup my breasts, his thumbs abrading my nipples through the lace before he unsnaps my bra and discards it. The last items are ripped away, our control slipping. I’m guided to the bed where I lie down, Max grabbing a condom from a nearby drawer. He throws it to the pillow and it sits there, obvious, a declaration of intent.
“Do I need it?”
My results are back. “Clean.”
He joins me on the bed, his skin burning hot as he lies down on top of me. We meet in all the good places: my nipples pressed against a muscled chest; his arms wrapping me up close as his cock aligns with my pussy. He feathers the head against my clit before languidly sliding it through my folds, a million tingles firing to life under my skin.
“Do you want my mouth on you first?”
I shake my head, lifting my legs and wrapping them around his waist. “I’m ready. Don’t make me wait any longer.”
He kisses me again, hungrily. Passionately. “Keep your eyes on me,” he breathes.
Shaking, I fasten my gaze to his, my body roaring with want. He pushes in an inch, my breath hitching at the burn. Under my palms, I feel him trembling and straining to hold himself back. But I don’t look away, not even as he slides in another inch, my body slick and ready.
“Fuck, my control is slipping.”
I pant into his mouth, blinded by need. “Do it.”
He doesn’t falter. He takes my offer and cleaves me apart with a long, solid thrust that has us groaning.
