Chapter 24
Molly
Max Rutherford, shooting me a dirty, buckle up, baby grin from between my legs, his huge shoulders rising between my thighs, is a sight for sore eyes.
‘I’m going to enjoy this more than you,’ he says in a voice dark with promise, before that magical tongue of his hits my very core.
Oh, Jesus.
I buck, and my neck muscles give up the fight, my head flopping back onto the rug.
The charge between us, it hasn’t just been in my mind.
Of course it hasn’t. Physics 101 says a force like that must have an opposing force.
That’s why the magnetism between us is so powerful.
Max is acting like a caged bull, and I suspect he’s been biding his time as much as I have, these past days and weeks.
No wonder the kindling of our mutual desire, our mutual frustration, needed only the smallest spark to ignite it.
And that spark proved to be me trying to brush off Max’s playful gesture earlier as not real.
At least only one of us was in denial. Thank God Max had the courage I lacked to call this thing out.
He drags a hand up the sensitive skin of my inner thigh right as his tongue slices through the slickness at my centre.
A couple of fingers dip into my entrance, their tips painting lazy circles with my arousal.
His languid touch is far nearer to torture than teasing.
If I hadn’t seen his cock as he crouched over me, hadn’t spied the moisture already beading at its tip, I’d think he was in a lot less hurry than me.
Max’s licks are luxurious. Decadent. Like I’m a fast-melting ice cream cone on a summer’s day, and he’s trying to cover as much ground with that tongue as he can.
The visceral pleasure of having that particular organ on me after such a long period of solo orgasms makes my entire body shake.
The fire’s warmth wafts over my naked skin, and it beads with pin-pricks of sweat.
But still, I need more. Need more than the playful jabs of his fingers, which haven’t yet gone more than one knuckle deep inside me. I need as much of his fingers and tongue as I can get. I need the intensity of touch that will send an orgasm ripping through my body.
As usual, Max appears to be able to read my mind, because he drives both fingers deep inside me without warning, and holy crap does that feel right.
‘Oh, God,’ I moan, back arching, my pelvis pushing hard into the source of the sensation. Taking his fingers. Demanding more.
It seems I’m feeling greedy. I clench my inner walls as hard as I can around his fingers, praying he’s not mentally comparing my post-two-natural-childbirths vagina with the pelvic floor of steel I had as a twenty-one-year-old, but the vibration of his muffled swearing against my clit tells me he’s happy, as does the fact that he goes ahead and adds another thick, glorious finger inside me.
I’m pure sensation. Waves of hot pleasure are rolling off the parts of my flesh lucky enough to feel his tongue and fingers, and rippling over my body.
I never want this to end, this build, and yet I need release like I’ve never needed it before.
I’m going to need Max inside me the second I’ve come.
‘I’m so close,’ I tell him with difficulty. ‘Please.’
‘What do you need, baby?’ he asks between licks.
‘Harder. Faster. All of it.’
‘Play with your tits for me,’ is all he says in response, and I obey happily, my fingers pressing and rolling my nipples hard, sending my level of arousal practically through the roof.
At the same time, Max makes his tongue flat and hard and swipes at my clit with rough, rhythmical strokes that hit exactly the right spot. Every. Single. Time—
‘You taste fucking amazing,’ he grits out, but I’m incapable of stringing an actual sentence together in response. On the other hand, I suspect the noises I’m making leave him in no doubt as to what a fucking god he is at oral.
I love it.
Love how good we still are together. How attuned we are to each other’s bodies. How responsive I am to his touch, and how responsive his touch is to my needs.
I can feel my body shuddering against his tongue, his fingers, my thighs desperately opening even wider for him to embrace every last drop of sensation, my fingers working hard at my nipples. His tongue goes even more taut if that’s possible, its strokes even rougher, and I lose my shit.
I fall apart.
I convulse, jerking and shuddering against his face as he laps me up. As the ripples of pleasure retreat and still, he eases his fingers out of me and gently licks the whole length of me before getting up on his knees. A god, primed to pounce.
MAX
Once more, I’m braced above her, and I’m physically trembling with the need to be balls-deep inside her, but the sight below me gives me pause.
Molly.
My Molly. Hair everywhere, in a golden blur.
Gazing lazily up at me with still-glazed eyes, cheeks adorably flushed, tits heaving as her breathing evens out, nipples still perfect, tight, pink little nubs, the sight of which makes me drool.
Her mouth is open, but my face must be a picture of restraint, of need, because those lips curve up into an amused smile as she takes me in.
She shifts languidly on the rug. ‘You look like you’re about to explode.’
‘What do you expect?’ I huff out, bracing my weight on one hand so I can lift the other and smooth it through the halo of unspooled gold lying around her. ‘The taste of you always made me crazy, Mol. Feeling you come that hard on my tongue. Nothing’s changed.’
‘Nothing’s changed,’ she echoes, her eyes fixed on mine as she reaches down and cups my poor, blue balls.
My cock twitches even before her hand trails upwards, her long, slim fingers brushing the taut skin before closing around my shaft.
I flinch in pleasure and squeeze my eyes shut.
Jesus Christ, this will be over quickly.
She sucks in a sharp breath through her teeth. ‘God, I’ve always loved your dick so much,’ she whispers. ‘I have a coil in. So what are you waiting for?’
I open my eyes, releasing her silken hair and lowering myself down to my elbows. I exhale sharply, my nostrils flaring. ‘Absolutely nothing, sweetheart.’
My hand reaches between us. Fisting my poor cock. Dragging its weeping crown over her wetness, tracing the exact path my tongue just took. But I don’t break eye contact.
I want to be there for the moment I breach her defences. Claim her again, after too fucking long. I position myself at her entrance, and she raises her hips a little and pushes against me. ‘Jesus, Max,’ she says. ‘Come on.’
I can’t hold back anymore. I drive forward, harder than I mean to, and sheath myself in her in one sharp movement.
Her lips part. Eyelashes flutter. She exhales raggedly, the most gorgeous crease appearing between her brows as she adjusts to my size.
To the fact that there’s very little room between us.
That she, presumably, can feel my every ridge and vein, just as I can feel every millimetre of the velvet vice she has me in.
My face practically splits in half with the smile that breaks out. I look down at her in awe, shaking my head. ‘You little beauty,’ I say. ‘About fucking time.’
‘Max,’ she says, and her voice is a warning. Like she’s not in control of her emotions right now. Like having me inside her is threatening to crack open twelve-plus years’ worth of shit.
I nod to show her I’m right there with her. ‘I know, baby.’ I smooth her hair off her face before allowing my fingers to entangle themselves in the golden tresses. ‘I know. It’s so fucking real.’
And with those words, I pull out of her, slowly.
Slowly. Almost the whole way. Flesh dragging against flesh with friction so good it feels wrong.
My entire world has narrowed to where we’re joined.
She moans, deep in her throat, as I drive back in with a single thrust, and I can’t help the low grunt that leaves my mouth.
‘Need you on top,’ I tell her. Because while ramming into Molly as she lies there splayed out for me, her golden halo of hair strewn everywhere, is a dream come true, I want her bouncing on my cock like I remember her doing so beautifully, once upon a time.
Want her riding me. Working my dick. Her hair a curtain around us.
My hands kneading her arse. Or grabbing her hair.
‘Yeah,’ she agrees, and I wrap said arm around her and flip us.
Fuck, this rug is not the softest. If either of us gets rug burn, better it’s my tough hide than her beautiful, velvety skin.
But I’m far more focused on the friction around my cock than under my arse right now.
Molly manoeuvres her legs so she’s in a kneeling position, still impaled on me exactly where I want her, although now she can bear down on me as much as she wants. Milk me hard.
And me?
I lie back on the pillow of my crossed arms and enjoy the view.
Just for a minute, before I’m compelled to rise up and kiss her, feel her tits rub against my chest as she bounces.
But right now, I stay horizontal. The sight in front of me has me biting down on my lower lip, hard.
And the sensation of her inner walls dragging up and down on my dick has me praying very hard I don’t disgrace myself.
She’s exquisite. Always has been. And always will be, I realise.
Her beautiful face still bears the flush of the orgasm I gave her.
The warmth of the fire as she exerts herself can’t be hurting, either.
Those pale blue eyes are hooded with desire.
She’s half seeing me, half in a place where sensation has overpowered sight.
And her hair is a spun web of gold, messed up just the right amount while cascading over her white skin. Caressing it.
I was right. It must reach her arse.
Molly leans forward, her hand brushing over my chest, down the trail of hair that intersects my abs, swirling in the hair at the base of my cock before she arches, reaching behind her and cupping my balls.
My teeth sink a little deeper into my lower lip, because not only does the fact that her fingers are teasing my balls almost undo me, but the arch of her body, the thrust of her tits as she does so is pretty fucking amazing, too.
And the combination? It spurs me into action.
I hoist myself up to sitting, one arm supporting my weight behind me as the other roams over her.
My movements are hungry, hurried, as we continue to move in sync, finding a rhythm we’ve never truly forgotten.
I stroke her back, and palm her breast, and knead the perfect globe of her arse, and tug at her hair, wrapping as much of it as I can around my wrist so I can guide her face to mine, kissing her desperately as I thrust off the floor with as much strength as I can muster.
I’m not the only one whose movements are hungry.
Molly claws at my shoulders and grabs at my hair as best she can as her tongue thrashes against mine.
She matches my dick stroke for stroke, pulling almost the entire way out of me before sitting back down with a force that has me grunting every time our bodies slam against each other.
Again.
And again.
And again.
I can tell by the way she’s kissing me that’s she’s close to coming again.
Her hands are everywhere. The lifts and falls of her hips pick up.
I release her hair so it tumbles around us both and, wedging a hand between us, find her clit again.
As my fingers hit it, she moans desperately into my mouth, despite the fact that my dextrousness has gone out the window.
I’m a fucking mess, so ready to blow, hoping and praying that Mol comes before I do.
And she does, pouring her moans into my mouth, bucking against me, grinding down so hard on my cock that I see stars as the unbearable heat that’s built in the base of my spine roars through my balls and up my cock, my own orgasm ripping through me as I empty myself into her.
I bury my face in the crook of her neck, shuddering through a climax so monumental that it temporarily blinds me.
As we come down, I wind my arm tightly around her waist, her hair, and lower us both back onto the rug, pulling her right down on top of me. My hand flops out to the side like I’m dead, and I really, really might be.
‘Holy fucking Christ,’ I mutter into the hair covering my face as she collapses on my chest, panting.
‘I feel like I just ran a marathon,’ she gasps. ‘My quads are burning. I don’t think I could have held out much longer.’
With great effort, I raise my arm enough to give her a half-hearted slap on her arse before using it to lift her hair off my face. I don’t much fancy dying of suffocation when I’ve just hit the jackpot with the woman of my dreams.
‘You were a fucking beauty,’ I tell her, and she nips at my lower lip.
‘And you’re a machine. That magic dick. Told you I missed it.’ She hovers so close above me that our noses brush. ‘Was it always that good? I feel like that was better than ever. Was it? Or were we both just more desperate and sexually frustrated?’
I laugh. ‘Bit of both, I suspect. We never exactly held off when we were together. This time, we had to wait for it.’
She groans and, laying her palms flat on my chest, pulls herself up, her hair tickling my pecs. My cock twitches inside her as I admire the view.
‘It was worth the wait,’ she says. She looks just-fucked, and thoroughly sated, and utterly beautiful. ‘That was incredible.’
I snag her wrist as she looks around, presumably for something to clean herself up with.
‘Don’t even think about it,’ I warn her. I’m getting hard again. ‘I’m getting another round in, and I’ll do all the work this time.’