Chapter 26
MACKENZIE
Imoaned as he slipped one finger inside me, then two, curling deep while his thumb traced slow circles over my clit. My breath hitched, eyes fluttering closed.
“Or did you do it like this?” He whispered, his voice rough and low against my ear.
I melted into the sheets, embarrassed by how he unraveled me, by how wet I already was. But the way he watched me told me he loved every second of it.
He moved at exactly the pace I needed, like he knew my body by heart. When my moans grew louder, he leaned down and covered my lips with his, swallowing them, breathing hard as his fingers kept working inside me.
“Baby, I fucking love those noises,” he murmured against my mouth.
My stomach flipped at the word baby, warmth blooming in my chest.
“Yeah?” I breathed back, barely able to form the word.
His gaze lingered on me. He was trying so hard to stay in control, but I was tired of men controlling my life.
The moment I reached down and wrapped my hand around his cock, I knew he was relenting. The sharp intake of his breath confirmed it. I matched his rhythm, slow and needy, like we were learning each other in real time.
“Oh my God, Trouble,” he groaned, as I rolled my hand up and down his length. “Fuck.”
He pushed his fingers deeper in response to my touch, and if I hadn’t been lying flat on the mattress, I swear I would’ve tipped right over the edge.
“You’re such a dirty girl,” he murmured, voice thick. “You like that… when I finger fuck you?”
I nodded, maybe a little too eagerly. No one had ever spoken to me like that before. And, selfishly, I reveled in it, in the way his focus narrowed until it felt like I was the only thing in his world.
“Yeah,” I whined. “Max—oh my God—stop, I need, I need you inside me.”
He slid his fingers free and shoved them into his mouth, groaning low as he tasted me, like it was the most natural thing in the world. The sight was filthy and intimate all at once, sending a shiver through my entire body.
I watched as he shifted over me, all hard lines and flexing muscle, his cock flushed and heavy, desire written plainly across his face.
And then I really looked at him.
This was my childhood best friend. The same boy who cried when Han Solo died.
The one who used to ramble endlessly about insect anatomy and black holes.
The kid with mismatched socks, jars of beetles, and sunburned shoulders from summers spent fishing, playing baseball, and wasting whole days at the lake.
The boy who made me laugh harder than anyone else ever could.
And now…
Now he knelt over me, broad-shouldered and grown, hair messy, eyes dark, wearing that slow, knowing smirk that still made my knees weak.
My husband.
God help me. What he’d done was unforgivable, and part of me clung to that anger.
But another part of me kept softening, pulled under by him like always.
Nothing about us had ever been simple. Our marriage least of all.
With Max, everything ran on instinct and emotion, messy and intense and impossible to ignore.
It pissed me off that I was letting myself soften toward him again.
But this time… I didn’t want him in control.
I wanted him to work for me.
I wanted him to beg.
He wrapped a hand around himself and dragged the tip slowly down my center, almost like he was trying to punish me. His head tilted slightly, as if he was watching art unfold, like he was about to destroy his favorite masterpiece.
Something shifted in his eyes then. Feral. Unsteady. Like he was holding himself together by a thread.
His gaze trailed down my chest, lingering.
I was completely exposed, trembling beneath him, and all he did was look.
He’d touched me, been between my thighs, had watched me come undone, but this was the first time he had seen me like this—spread-eagled on the bed with a drenched pussy entirely at his mercy.
His face went slack, and then he pushed inside.
One slow, overwhelming thrust that stole the air from my lungs. My nails dug into his back on instinct, a broken cry slipping from my throat.
“Oh my God,” I gasped, arching into him.
His head dropped to my shoulder, lips parting against my skin as a deep groan tore out of him. It came from somewhere deep in his chest.
“Oh, fuck,” he breathed, voice rough and reverent all at once.
He didn’t move right away. He stayed there, buried deep, letting the moment stretch until I could barely breathe, grinding slowly like he was settling into something familiar… like home.
“I’m going to try to be gentle, Trouble,” he whispered against my ear. “But you’ve gotta tell me if I hurt you, okay? Because I love you… But fuck, I want you to feel like I don’t.”
His hips rolled, slow and heavy.
“You feel fucking perfect. You.” Thrust. “Are.” Thrust. “Mine.” Thrust.
Each movement carried more force, the headboard knocking against the wall in a steady rhythm.
He kissed my mouth, my breasts, my shoulders—anywhere he could reach, he pressed his lips there, like he couldn’t help himself. My legs locked tight around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper.
We tried to stay quiet, swallowing each other’s sounds, breathing each other in. But a rough groan tore out of him, loud enough that I clapped a hand over his mouth without thinking.
His tongue slid against my palm, teasing, and I grimaced.
He laughed—actually laughed—low and wicked against my skin.
His hips snapped into mine harder, faster, our bodies slick with sweat, rhythm turning urgent.
“Fuck, baby,” he breathed, already losing control.
I cried out as he picked up the pace, grunting into my mouth, one hand sliding to my throat while the other pressed between us, thumb moving in tight circles against my clit that made my whole body shake.
He watched me the entire time. His eyes locked on mine, drinking in every reaction, like he was witnessing something sacred. And then it hit me. I tightened around him, the release crashing through me without warning.
His eyes widened, a flash of surprise breaking through the hunger.
“Fuck… I can feel it,” he breathed, voice rough.
My legs locked tighter around his waist as I went over the edge. It was so strong I felt it everywhere. The release rolled down my spine, behind my eyes, sparking through every nerve in my body.
Then, I felt the exact second he started to lose control. His rhythm was stuttering, his breath uneven, his pupils blown wide. He was close. Too close.
Not happening.
Not today.
He wasn’t going to get his release until I said so.
I flipped us with a strained breath, wincing at his weight for half a second before he shifted with me, letting it happen, letting me take over.
Max barely had time to react before I was straddling him, palms planted on his chest as I drove my hips down.
The sound he made—half groan, half broken moan—punched the air from his lungs like I’d just wrecked him completely as I slid down, taking his entire size inside of me.
His hands shot to my thighs, trying to take back control, but I slapped them away.
“No,” I panted, grinding down against him, watching his eyes roll back. “You said you’re mine. Then let me show you what that means. You don’t get to cum until I say you can.”
I needed this. I needed to take back my agency, and he knew it.
“Fuck, Mackenzie…” he rasped, voice shaking. His jaw clenched as I started to move. I was slow at first, deliberate, dragging him in and out of me with a rhythm meant to undo him. Every time I felt him getting close, I stopped.
His head fell back, chin tilting toward the ceiling, breath ragged.
“You’re gonna fucking kill me.”
“Good,” I whispered, leaning down until my lips brushed his. “Then die knowing I’m the only one who gets you like this.”
I rocked harder, faster, and he lost whatever control he had left. His hands flew back to my hips, but I caught his wrists and pressed them into the mattress, pinning him there.
He was trembling beneath me, chest heaving, muscles drawn tight like a bowstring. The cocky brat who used to tease me was gone.
Now he was completely at my mercy.
He stared up at me like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
“Jesus, fuck,” he groaned, completely helpless now, hips bucking up into me with every desperate thrust. His eyes were pleading, blown wide with need. “I’m—fuck, baby, I’m… am I allowed to cum? I… can’t… last…”
“No.” The word came out firm, final, and it made him shiver. I stilled my hips, feeling him pulse inside me.
“Please… please, Mackenzie… please,” he begged, voice breaking.
“Are you going to be a good boy?”
“Yes—fuck—yes. I’ll do anything you want. Anything you tell me.”
“Are you my bitch?”
His throat worked, a strangled sound leaving him. It wasn’t amusement, but disbelief, pride fighting desperation. “No—”
I reached behind my ass and dug my nails into his balls just enough to make him choke on the word. His eyes opened wide.
“Say it,” I ordered. He shook his head, wanting to say no again, and I squeezed.
“I’m your bitch,” he whimpered, the last of his resistance collapsing.
“Cum for me,” I whispered, grinding down in slow, tight circles as another wave built inside me.
My hands slid to his throat, holding him there, grounding him, and with a broken sound, Max surged up into me one last time, fingers fisting the sheets as his body jerked.
After, he just looked up at me.
All the feral heat was gone from his eyes, replaced by something softer. His eyes were open, unguarded, achingly familiar. The way he watched me then made my chest tighten. It wasn’t about control, or punishment, or who had won.
It was love.
He didn’t care that I’d pushed him, or made him break, or taken control. None of that mattered.
He still loved me.
He leaned his forehead against mine, both of us still catching our breath.
“Holy shit,” we said at the exact same time.
I laughed softly and rolled off him, but he immediately followed, his hand settling warm and possessive against my left breast, like he needed the contact.
“I… I didn’t know it was going to be like that,” he murmured, voice husky. His arms tightened around my waist, holding me close, caging me against him like he wasn’t ready to let go. “We really fucking consummated the hell out of our marriage.”
Every inch of me throbbed, pleasantly sore. His lips brushed over my temple, my jaw, the corner of my mouth. He gave me soft, lingering touches, like he couldn’t stop himself. Like he needed to keep reminding himself I was real.
And then I saw it.
A faint flush spreading across his cheeks.
My brows lifted, a teasing grin tugging at my lips. “Max McKinnon… are you blushing?”
His smile went crooked—half sheepish, half dangerous.
“Shut up,” he muttered.
I laughed, breath still uneven. “Oh, come on. Don’t get shy now. Not after everything you just said to me. Not after what you did.”
His hand slid down my back and squeezed my ass hard enough to make me gasp.
“Careful, baby,” he whispered against my neck. “I’ll flip you over and remind you exactly what I did.”
My pulse jumped. I bit my lip, heat flaring all over again.
“I’m serious,” he continued, voice dropping, that cocky edge creeping back in. “You keep mouthing off, I’m gonna make you beg for it. Is that what you want?”
I gave him too long a hesitation.
In one smooth motion, he rolled me onto my back and hovered over me, smirking like he already knew the answer. He carefully touched my bandage, reassuring himself that I wasn’t hurt, and then said, “That’s what I thought.”