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“Once more,” he coaxes.
I prepare for his long, thick invasion and he doesn’t disappoint.
“This should say Max,” he says, tracing a finger over my tattoo. “We’ll make sure it’s my name here.”
I’m too tired to argue or care. “Last time,” I say, meaning it, marvelling at his stamina and energy whilst simultaneously cursing him for it.
“Just surrender, baby,” he tells me, his voice like velvet. “It’ll be worth it.”
Time gets lost to Max’s promises, or warnings—I’m not sure what they are really. Something about moving in with him has unleashed a starved animal that dwelled under his skin. Or maybe, like me, he senses that progress has been made. That I’m testing some boundaries and finding that I can move beyond them. Every inch of my body is kissed, nipped at, licked and sucked until I’m flushed and tingling and throbbing all over. I have multiple orgasms, crippling ones that leave me disconcerted and babbling.
Earlier, I thought his words were just talk, but he seems to want to make good on his threats. To make it hurt to walk or breathe because it’s all come true. Numb, all I can do is lie on the bed and defend myself against his new advances, trying to push him away because surely he can’t go again?
“Such a good girlfriend,” he tells me, watching intently as my body swallows every inch of him. “So good at taking me over and over.”
I’ve lost track of time. Lost all coherence. All I know is that this is a side of Max I need to accept and manage. To endure.
“Max, I’m so tired.”
“Last time, I promise.”
“You said that earlier.”
He smiles guiltily. Boyishly. It shouldn’t look so endearing, but he’s irresistible. “Just making sure there’s no mistaking who you belong to. Who owns this body. This heart. I’m going to be all you ever think of.”
Inexorably full, he pulses his hips, hitting the perfect spot. Sparks ignite, surprising me that I can still respond. “You are,” I tell him honestly. “It’s only ever you.”
It’s like I flip a switch. Another one. He throws my legs over his shoulders and pushes inside me, his strokes deep and punishing. His hot exhales tickle my neck. His hips slam into mine with savage force. And the pressure of him inside, filling me so tightly, is all I can focus on.
My lungs feel tiny, squashed under his tall frame, but like each time before, my body responds to his thickening cock and the implacable way he brings me to ruin.
“You’re priceless,” he husks. “Worth so much more.”
“W-what?” I ask. “What was that?”
“I want more,” he repeats. “I love watching you break apart on my cock.”
My brain is fried, but I know one thing. “As long as you put me back together.”
His lips suckle at my neck. “You know I will.”
My brain begs for sleep, but my body reminds me it’s still awake and invested in what’s going on. Second by second, Max’s movements intensify. His hands are constantly moving, touching me, smoothing down my flanks, or holding me motionless as he pumps into me with a ruthlessness that I can only just tolerate. His harsh breaths of exertion and pleasure fill the room. His fingers desperately circle my clit. Sweat breaks out over my skin as I unravel to the very end of my limits, every inch of me rocked with crushing contractions.
“Ma-xi-mil-i-an,” I cry out weakly, his hand wrapped around my throat as my orgasm rips through me.
He pumps inside me five, six times before stilling, emptying inside me with a guttural groan. “Ava.”
I must have dozed.When I wake, the golden rays that painted his bedroom have been swallowed up by darkness. There’s enough light filtering into the room from somewhere to allow me to find my phone on the floor.
6.39 PM.
“Max?” I call, tossing my phone onto the bed where a damp wash cloth idles. I remember him bringing it to me, soothing my body.
The door to the bathroom is ajar, but it’s dark within. I look towards his office/panic room; the door’s closed and no lights are visible under the door.
Slowly, I pull on my clothes and head towards the landing. Downstairs, I can hear male voices, lights beaming upwards to my position. Bolstered, I carefully take the steps down. I ache all over, especially the backs of my thighs, the inside of my thighs. Spread-eagled for so long it’s no wonder my body reminds me with vicious clarity.
On the ground floor, the voices are louder but still muffled, and then I notice that they’re coming from the House Manager’s office.
