Chapter 25
MAX
Ipulled into the hotel parking lot, and she shot me a look like I’d lost my mind.
“Where are we even going?” she snapped.
I turned off the ignition, my jaw clenched.
“You were out cold for the first thirty-six hours of our marriage,” I muttered, teeth grinding. “Then I spent two weeks going crazy because I couldn’t touch you. We need to consummate this marriage now, or I swear I’ll lose it.”
“You’re basically kidnapping me,” she scoffed with a forced smile, though I caught the faint curve of her lips.
She was calling me out, technically, but since she was legally bound to me, it wasn’t kidnapping.
I looked at her. God, she looked beautiful. My chest tightened seeing her in that dress, soft and flowing yet sharp, just like her. Two weeks ago, I prayed for her in the woods. Now she’s mine. Forever.
I must’ve been making a face, because she smiled.
“What?”
“Nothing,” I muttered.
Just trying not to drool all over my legally kidnapped wife, I thought.
“I just can’t believe you’re mine, Mrs. McKinnon. I can’t wait to make you mine repeatedly tonight.”
Every inch of me burned, imagining taking her upstairs, tearing that dress off. I knew she was still recovering, and I needed to go slow. But my blood was molten. My control? Hanging by a thread.
“We’ll see about that,” she said dryly, sliding out of the truck.
West had packed us an overnight bag—pajamas, camp clothes, some semblance of normalcy. However, I fully planned on her being naked the entire night. She wouldn’t need pajamas. But I had made him get them monogrammed with her new initials. He told me he hated me for making that request.
What can I say? I was sentimental and just a teeny bit psychotic. But just for her.
Walking to the hotel room, the tension between us was electric. Every step made my dick harder. She was pissed at me, but she wanted me. I could smell her wetness. It was fucking addicting. There was something about the way she smelled that just naturally turned me on.
Once we got to the hotel room door, I slid an arm behind her knees and the other around her back, careful to avoid her injured side, and lifted her. She let out a sharp gasp, fingers clutching my shoulder.
“Max,” she warned.
“I’ve got you,” I said, slowing my steps so I didn’t jostle her. “If you think I won’t carry my wife over the threshold just because she’s pissed, you’re mistaken.”
I bent down and kissed her on the forehead. “I’m going to be so gentle, Mrs. McKinnon.”
The second the door clicked shut, and I put her down, she shoved me. My back hit the wall with a loud thud. It was harder than I expected from her, given everything she had just gone through. She winced, one hand flying to her side briefly before she straightened.
There was fire in her eyes. Her lips were swollen, parted. She looked fucking dangerous.
“Strip,” she demanded.
My cock twitched in my pants. My blood spiked.
Oh, hell yes.
She was taking control. I loved every second of it, but I needed to make sure she was okay.
“I like you being the boss,” I muttered, searching her face for any sign that this was going too far. “But we can take our time. Why don’t we order dinner?”
“No. I’m not hungry for food. It’s time for you to be punished,” she shot back.
I moved fast, shedding my shirt. I was slow on removing my pants, but I kept eye contact. I wanted her to watch me.
She had zero patience, though. She bent down, ripped my pants off, freeing my cock.
I was hard as a rock seeing her on her knees in front of me.
She let out a small gasp when she saw my size.
This was the first time she had actually seen me.
We had fucked in the woods, but she hadn’t really taken the time to look at me. It had been so fast, so dark.
I watched as she dragged her gaze from the base of my shaft to the tip, and she licked her lips as she looked up at me with those fucking beautiful green eyes.
I had imagined this moment for years.
My groan barely made it past my teeth as she leaned forward, lips tracing my shaft, and I inhaled.
Fuck. If she blew me right now, I wouldn’t make it through the night.
Instead, she kissed the head of my dick, standing up abruptly.
“You’re not a good boy. Good boys don’t get rewarded,” she whispered.
Good boy? GODDDDDD.
I was a fucking lunatic for her. I wanted that praise. Fucking lived for it.
I slumped against the wall, immobilized by her intensity.
She stepped back, hands on my chest.
“Take my dress off.”
I obeyed, savoring the curve of her back as I unzipped her, careful not to drag the zipper too close to her bandage.
She had been my obsession, my everything for years. And now she was my wife. I was going to worship every inch of her.
The dress fell. She slid off her bra and stood in front of me—bare, trembling, fucking mine. My gaze dragged over her curves, every slope, until my eyes caught on the bandage stretched tight across her ribs. The stark white reminder of what he did. A reminder of how close I came to losing her.
She shifted slightly, one hand brushing the edge of the gauze, like she was still getting used to it being there.
The sight of it should’ve made me pull back, but instead it ignited something sick and primal in me. That mark wasn’t a weakness; it was proof she’d survived. I wanted to tear the bandage off with my teeth and kiss the scar beneath.
She was alive because of me. And I’d kill anyone who dared look at her and see anything but perfection because she was perfection to me.
She dragged her eyes down my naked body.
“Mmmm… Silver lining, I’ve got a husband who looks good in clothes, and out of them,” she teased.
My hands were itching to touch her. But she hadn’t permitted me yet. I was trying so fucking hard to follow her rules.
She slid her underwear down and bent to remove her heels. I muttered, “Keep them on.”
I wanted to look at her more. I had seen her naked, but this was the first time we were both standing in front of each other like this.
I wanted more time to reconnect with her, but she wasn’t interested. She nodded, took my chin in her hand, and her nails dug into me.
“I didn’t tell you to talk. Get on the bed.”
I practically sprinted to the king-sized bed, jumping like a dog in a pile of leaves, and lying back. I was entirely at her mercy, and I loved it.
“You want me in control, don’t you?” she whispered.
“Yes,” I whispered back.
I felt her close to me as she started to settle her body on top of mine. Her hand closed around my throat, surprisingly tight for someone who’d been stabbed two weeks ago.
“I’m going to punish you. Make you hurt. You like being punished, right, baby?”
“Oh… fuck yeah,” I swallowed. “Hit me, bite me, choke me.”
She loosened her grip on my throat, settling her hips down on mine. She started moving herself up and down my cock. She was fucking soaked. I could slip in any moment, but I was letting her call the shots. I groaned, tilting my head up to the ceiling, when she started rolling her hips.
“You gonna be loud for me? You want everyone to hear us?”
“I can be loud.” My voice was rough. “I want everyone to know my wife is fucking me.”
She gasped sharply. She could fight, resist, tease, but I knew she craved this as much as I did.
“Tell me you don’t love it,” I smirked.
She grabbed my chin again.
“Kiss me.”
I sat up, grabbed her hips, and kissed her. She pushed my head back onto the pillow, leaning over me as she grabbed a tuft of my hair and yanked so I had to look directly into her eyes.
“Not there.”
My hands were on her instantly. I slid back until my head was right next to the headboard, then gently began guiding her movements above me.
“Wh—what are you doing?” she asked.
Her innocence was such a fucking turn-on. She was trying to control me, but I knew she was hurting, so I was going to guide her, even if she didn’t realize it.
“Hands on the headboard, open your legs, and sit on my face,” I commanded.
She laughed.
“What??”
“Sit on my fucking face. Now. I want to watch my good girl cum.”
She obeyed, spreading her legs. Every inch of her was tense and waiting. I watched her. I watched the way her hips tilted. I watched her chest rise and fall. Then I looked directly into her—open, wide, wet, for me.
“Can you breathe?” she asked. I appreciated her checking in on me, but I couldn’t breathe, and that was the point.
“No.” I inhaled her. God, it was fucking psychotic how good she smelled.
“Good,” she whispered.
“Fucking suffocate me, Trouble.” She relaxed, putting all her weight on my face.
I dragged my tongue over her clit, slow at first, learning her, listening to every broken sound she moaned. Her moans were soft at first. She was nervous. I could feel her shaking on me.
But when her hips started moving against my face, I lost whatever control I had left. I pushed in deeper, tasting her, devouring her, chasing every reaction like I couldn’t get enough.
Her moans turned rough, desperate. Her fingers twisted in my hair, thighs locking tight around my head, and I let it happen. I let her hold me there, let her use me, while I kept going, starving for it, for her.
“Max, holy shit—” she cried out.
Was it too much for her? She was shaking so badly. I wrapped my hands around her thighs and squeezed.
“Ahhh, fuck,” she screamed.
“Mine,” I growled, my voice lost against her skin.
“All yours,” she gasped. “No one else. Just you.”
That did it. I pushed a finger inside her, mouth working harder, deeper, chasing every sound out of her until her hands slammed into the headboard and she screamed my name.
I held her there, gripping her thighs as she arched, shaking, coming apart over my mouth.
“Fuck—yeah,” I breathed. “That’s it. Give it to me.”
Her orgasm exploded against my mouth, the tiny pulses pounding against my tongue. She tasted fucking amazing. The best thing I had ever savored.
I grabbed her hips, flipping her down onto the bed. My hands never left her skin.
“You okay?”
Her eyes were glassy, hair a mess. She looked perfectly ruined. And I smirked, because yeah, I had done that.
“Yeah, I’m okay,” she said breathlessly, looking up at me.
I stared at her for what felt like five whole minutes because I had no idea how to rationalize that this was happening. That Mackenzie was my wife, and I was her husband. This meant more to me than she would ever know.
“You have no fucking idea how long I’ve wanted this,” I said, my voice rough. “I can’t stop thinking about how good you felt in the woods.”
I leaned down, biting her bottom lip.
“Well, I’ve wanted to fuck you since the first day of camp,” she whispered.
I growled, leaning back just enough to see her face. She was open now, looking at me like she wasn’t holding anything back. And I couldn’t look away.
“Oh yeah?” I ran my hand down her inner thigh. “What were you thinking about?”
She wasn’t embarrassed; she just looked at me and said, “When I first saw you come out of your truck, I could barely talk. I thought all types of things when we discovered we’d be back in that room together.”
I leaned in, voice low and coaxing. “What were we doing in your thoughts?”
She bit her lip.
“Um, this. I thought about you kissing me, touching me. I thought about you naked, I thought about the way you would feel.”
My jaw flexed, and I said, “I want specifics.”
She hesitated just a minute and then said, “I touched myself in the shower three times after I saw you shirtless for the first time, and I touched myself in my bunk while you were asleep.”
Fuck.
That was not what I had been expecting.
I was going to destroy her.
“You touched yourself while I was asleep?” My fingers were high on her inner thighs, my dick hovering right there, so close.
She nodded her head yes.
“What did you think about when you were touching yourself?”
“I thought about how you’d look if you lost control, if we stopped holding back.” She leaned forward so that her mouth was hovering against mine. “I thought about what you would sound like.”
She looked away, and I grabbed her face so I could look into her eyes. I groaned, hips grinding down against her, the head of my cock sliding up and down her wet center. I was shaking now. Desperate. Barely holding on. Our mouths collided again, all tongue and need.
“Repeat it,” I breathed against her mouth.
She shivered. “I touched myself thinking about you.”
My hands gripped her thighs, spreading them wide, and I slid my fingers up her again.
“So wet,” I said. “Is this how wet you were when you touched yourself?”
She arched her hips into my hand, her fingers clutching the sheets.
“Yes. God—yes.”