Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 94300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
My mind buzzed, my body tightened, everything inside me clashing with him in the most incredible way.
This was every fantasy I’d ever imagined, times a thousand.
This was pure bliss.
This was Maxim fucking Zolotov at his finest.
And he was mine.
In this moment, he was all mine.
“Maxim.” His name rolled off my tongue, both a prayer and plea as everything inside me coiled and tightened. “Please,” I begged, my thighs shaking, my heart racing as my orgasm built and built and built.
“You there, baby?” he asked, his voice guttural.
“Yes,” I gasped.
“Fuck, yes,” he said, shifting to the edge of the chair and taking me with him as he took full control and pounded into me with a relentless sort of frenzy that had me clenching around his cock as I came.
But he wasn’t done.
Not even close.
He moved us, leaning me back and taking me from an entirely new angle as he pushed one orgasm right into another one, squeezing out every last drop of pleasure inside me until I could barely see straight. And just when I was certain I couldn’t come again, couldn’t breathe around what he’d done to my body, he hardened inside me another degree, and switched to slow, long strokes as he teased my clit with his fingers.
Every nerve ending in my body fired with an eternal kind of flame that flickered and teased and consumed me until his name rang from my lips and my body went limp around his as he found his release inside me.
He drew me against him, holding me gently as we caught our breath, and I couldn’t stop the giddy, drunk sort of giggle that left my lips.
Maxim grinned at me. “What is it?” he asked, slightly breathless.
I giggled again. “You just fucked me in a bookstore.”
He held me a bit tighter. “God, that mouth,” he said, then tilted his head. “What is funny about that?”
“This is where I would go to get books with sex in them…not you know…have sex in the store.”
Maxim laughed then, the vibrations reigniting my oversensitive flesh where he was still inside me. “Good,” he said, gently helping me off of him before hustling to the bathroom around the corner to clean up. He was back in no time. “That means you’ll never pick up another book without thinking about me doing all those things to you.”
I parted my lips, so drunk off the taste of him, the feel of him, that I almost blurted out the truth. That he didn’t need to fuck me in this store for that to be true. He’d always been my fantasy, the person I pictured while reading steamy books in the middle of the night.
“We still have time to shop,” he said after I’d righted myself as well. “Come on.” He reached for my hand. “You can have any books you want.”
I slipped my hand in his, my entire body feeling like warm honey, and my soul aching from what he was doing to me.
Because before I’d loved Maxim from the sidelines, from the shadows where he never thought to look for me.
But now?
Now he owned every single inch of my soul.
And letting Maxim Zolotov own me in any way was a terrifying kind of danger, but I wasn’t smart or strong enough to question it.
11
MAXIM
The hotel bar was crowded for a Monday night, but then again they always seemed crowded wherever we went. Tonight it was Detroit, the first stop in a five-day road trip that had me tapping my foot against the bottom rail of the stool as I sat at the end of the bar, waiting for Evie to respond to my latest text.
She was out with a few friends from her MFA program tonight, grabbing drinks after one of their night classes, but we were texting so often that it felt like I was sitting right next to her.
Evie: Seriously, Jordan just got on the bar and started singing
Maxim: like…karaoke?
Jordan was a name I’d heard before—one of the guys in her program, and I bit back the irrational swell of jealousy that another guy was out with my girl while I was eight hundred miles away.
Evie: like Coyote Ugly.
Evie: and it’s getting ugly. I think Chuck is going to haul him down.
Who the hell was Chuck? She doesn’t owe you a class roster. Chill.
Dating was a familiar enough concept to me. You met a woman, liked a woman, saw the woman while it benefitted you both. But jealousy? That was a whole other beast, and about as foreign to me as a functional family dynamic. Evie and I hadn’t exactly defined what we were doing, but I knew that whatever it was, we were exclusively doing it with each other, and it wasn’t like I didn’t trust her, because I did. But she had made her opinion pretty fucking clear that she wanted to keep our whatever under the radar and away from prying eyes.