Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 46231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 231(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 231(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
"I am."
"This is nothing."
"Max—"
"Do you have an objection?"
"No."
"You know how to object?"
"Yes."
He traces the line of my coat all the way to the top button. Slowly, he undoes it. Then the second. The third.
The sides fall apart, revealing me to him.
It's different than it was in his office. We're in his apartment. On his balcony.
Somehow, in his space and on view to the rest of the world too.
And fuck, the desire in his eyes—
My sex pangs.
I need him.
I need him now.
I need him forever.
"Please." The word falls off my lips.
"Not yet." He steps behind me and helps me out of my coat, the same way he's done a million times. "Wait here. I'll hang it on the rack."
"Please—"
"Then come inside with me." He leads me through the door, back around the hallway, all the way to the coat rack at the entrance.
Every step winds me tighter. How is that possible? He's not even touching me and I'm on fire. I'm totally and completely desperate for him.
For more.
"You look good here." He cups my cheek with his palm.
"Your apartment?"
"The city." He looks around the space, studying it as if he's never seen it before. "And in my apartment."
"Thank you."
He runs his thumb over my temple. For a long moment, he stares into my eyes, then he leans closer.
Closer.
Close enough to kiss me.
But he doesn't. Not on the lips, at least.
He goes straight to the corner of my jaw. Kisses a line down my neck, along my shoulder, over my collarbone.
Then lower.
His lips close around my nipple.
He sucks with soft pressure.
Then harder.
The scrape of his teeth.
Fuck. The tension in my sex winds tighter. Tighter. Almost too tight to bear.
I'm on the edge already.
Is it possible to come like this?
It feels all too possible.
My thoughts scatter as he scrapes his teeth against me again.
I reach for him. Get the soft fabric of his shirt. The smooth fibers of his hair. It's too short for me to grab, but there's something satisfying about that too.
Something pure and perfect.
"Max—" My fingers curl into his upper back, but the cotton of his shirt is between us. It's too much. Too many layers.
He responds with a sharp flick of his teeth. Another. Another.
Then he moves to my other nipple and teases me just as mercilessly.
Again and again.
Winding me tighter and tighter.
Closer and closer.
How can I be close from this?
I need more.
And I need him to keep doing this, forever.
"Please." I tug at his shirt.
He flicks his tongue against me. Then he pulls back. Straightens. Undoes the knot of his tie.
Fuck.
But he doesn't use the tie.
No. He unbuckles his belt instead. "Hands."
I place my hands in front of me.
He loops the leather around my wrists. Tests the knot. Deems it just right.
Then the same pattern. Only slower and infinitely more torturous.
His lips against my jaw.
A line down my neck. Over my collarbone. Down my chest.
His lips around my nipple.
That soft, perfect suction.
Then harder.
The sharp scrape of his teeth.
I reach for him. Catch the belt.
Fuck. It's too much. I can't take more.
But I can't ask him to stop either.
I need this. All this. Forever.
He toys with me again and again.
Until I'm dizzy with pleasure.
Then, finally, he brings his hand to my jeans. He undoes the button. The zipper. He peels the jeans off my hips and leaves them at mid-thigh.
Then the panties.
He presses a kiss to my pelvis.
Then it's the soft brush of his lips against me.
Fuck.
My eyes close.
My fingers dig into my palms.
He brushes against me again, a little firmer.
Firmer.
Fuck.
It's enough.
The tension in me winds to a fever pitch. With the next brush of his lips, I come.
My sex pulses.
Pleasure rolls through my body. My toes curl. My thighs shake. My knees threaten to collapse.
But he has me.
He catches me. Stands. Lifts me into his arms.
Max carries me to his bed.
It's fast and it's dark. I can't see much of his room. Only the mirrored closet, the silk sheets, the clean hardwood floor.
And Max, flipping me over, unbuttoning his slacks.
He pushes my thighs apart.
They catch on my jeans.
The feel of being bound—by my bottoms and the belt around my wrists—winds me tighter. Already, I'm close again.
Already, I'm humming with need.
For him.
Like everything.
And like this.
Especially like this.
Max digs his fingers into my hip and he drives into me.
There's no warning, no warmup, no tease.
No barrier.
His flesh against mine.
All of him against all of me.
He goes hard and deep.
It's intense, but I stretch to take him.
He pulls back and drives into me again.
And again.
Every thrust pushes me closer.
And closer.
Then his nails scrape my skin. One hand on my hip. The other drawing a long line down my back.
Down.
Then up.
Then back to my hips.
He holds me in place as he drives into me.
Again and again.
Hard enough, my thighs shake.
And the belt digs into my stomach.
But the hurt only winds me tighter.
Tighter.
There—
With his next thrust, I come. My sex pulses around him, pulling him closer, taking him deeper.