Chapter 27
MAX
She lifted her head, ready to tease, that smartass grin already forming. But then, she saw my face and froze. She thought I was playing. She thought this was over. But I wasn’t fucking done. Not even close. I had waited seven fucking years for this.
My hands slid back over her skin, rough and greedy, no hesitation now as I pulled her back over me, dragging her into place like I owned her.
“Wait, already?” she laughed, breathless. “You don’t need time to recover?”
I stared up at her like she was insane. “Nope,” I growled. “Didn’t get nearly enough of you.”
She was so fucked, and I think she knew it.
I rolled us again, caging her beneath me. I wanted to take my time, trail kisses across her body like vows, make her feel every single promise I’d told her tonight. But then my eyes landed on her tits, and everything soft inside me burned to ash.
They were perfect. Full. They were bouncing just slightly, given how hard she was breathing.
All fucking mine.
I kissed her again, this time slowly. And then I was trailing my mouth down her throat, between those perfect tits, across her stomach. She sighed, a broken, needy sound, and I fucking groaned. That sound would haunt me.
When I reached between her legs, she hissed and jerked her hips. She was still sensitive. I’d been too rough.
“Max… fuck. I can’t,” she said, voice trembling.
“Yes, you can,” I said, low, right into her skin. “You can take it; I know you can.”
She whimpered. I kissed down her inner thighs, teasing, licking, letting her feel how much I wanted her, how fucking desperate I was for another taste.
Her moan cracked through the room. I licked her once, twice, slow and deep, before devouring her like I was starving.
My tongue circled her, sucked, and flicked.
She bucked, keening underneath me. When I slid two fingers inside her, I felt her stretch, her walls already fluttering.
Still soaked. Still tight. Still so fucking perfect.
She reached down to touch me, and I growled, catching her wrists and pinning them beside her hips.
“You gonna behave?”
“No,” she whispered. “Not unless you make me.”
Christ.
I pulled her off and flipped back, dragging her with me, careful not to hurt her. She was breathless.
“I want you on top again,” I said, voice ragged.
She let out a noticeable inward gasp. I saw doubt flicker in her eyes. She wasn’t sure if she could manage it.
Her hesitation was hot, so hot.
“I’ll help you, baby,” I whispered.
I held her hips, lined her up, and started guiding her down, slow and ruthless.
“One… two… three,” I counted, just to fuck with her. She was so wet, I slid in too easily. I could feel every inch.
“Four… five… six, fuck,” I groaned, eyes rolling back. I was never going to get enough of her.
She braced herself on my chest, panting as I filled her, and she continued counting… seven… eight…
“Score,” she gasped, and holy shit, the way she said it, breathless, not even trying to hide how good it felt, I fucking lost my mind.
“Yeah, that’s it,” I growled, fucking up into her. “Ride me. Just like that.”
It was our wedding night. I wasn’t going to hold back.
We were soaked in sweat, panting, bodies colliding again and again. She was so fucking good at this. So good at being mine.
“You were made for me,” I hissed, spanking her ass hard. She clenched around me and cried out. “So, fucking tight. Look at you, my perfect girl.”
“Max… I’m gonna …”
I sat upright so that we were face-to-face. She looked away, and I grabbed her hair again, yanking her head forward so she had no choice but to look me in the eyes.
“Cum for me,” I commanded. “I want to feel that pussy clench around my dick.”
And holy fuck, did she. Her body locked around me, tightening like a fucking vice, and she came screaming. That raw, shaking, earth-shattering kind of orgasm that tore through her entire body.
I grabbed her hips and slammed into her so deep I could feel her heartbeat against mine, and I came with a savage groan.
I didn’t pull out right away. I stayed inside her, clenching her hips, breathing hard as she collapsed into my chest, completely done.
Eventually, I lifted her gently and eased out, laying her beside me.
“You, okay?” I asked, brushing her hair off her sweaty face.
She smiled.
“Yeah.”
I watched her stretch out beside me, her skin flushed and dewy. My cum was dripping out of her, sliding down the inside of her thigh.
I ran a hand through my hair and let out a slow breath, trying not to panic at how hard that image hit me. How primal it made me feel.
I should’ve pulled out. I knew I should’ve. But I didn’t. Because somewhere deep in my sick, obsessed, possessive little soul, I liked it. I liked seeing her like this, marked, used, filled.
I wanted to brand her. Bury myself in her until there was nothing left of her but me. I wanted every inch of her—mind, body, soul, name, future—all of it.
And the worst part? The part I could barely admit, even to myself?
I didn’t hate the idea of her getting pregnant. Not even a little.
My eyes dropped to her stomach, and something twisted low in my gut.
I could already see it. She’d hate me for it, and I’d give her everything. She smiled, still dazed, still drunk on me, and when her legs shifted, I watched more of my cum slip out of her.
Jesus.
I was getting hard again.
“Max?” she murmured, eyes fluttering open. “You, okay?”
I gave her a slow grin. “Oh, baby, I’m better than okay.”
“You’re staring,” she said sleepily. “You’re thinking hard about something.”
Yeah. I was.
Nothing weird here, just me, the guy who married her while she was unconscious, casually imagining pushing my cum back up inside her.
Totally normal thoughts from a totally normal person.
But I wasn’t normal, and neither was she.
“What are you thinking about?” She asked me, getting up on one elbow to look at me.
“Just how hot it is knowing I might have just gotten you pregnant tonight.”
She froze, blinking at me. “What?”
“Nothing,” I smirked, cocky as hell now. “Just thinking about filling you up again.”
She rolled her eyes, but I didn’t miss the flush on her cheeks. Or the way her hips subtly tilted into mine.
Yeah, she liked it too. She was a little freak.
“I love you,” she said in my ear.
I looked over at her, and I knew I was never going to be the same.
“I love you, too.”
She sat up, looked down at me, and then gave me a hard slap across the face. The sharp crack stunned me. The sting of her hand burned on my cheek. I raised my hand to the spot where she had hit me.
“Oh, baby. You’re in fucking trouble.”
“Shut up and kiss me.”
We ordered room service afterwards, watching a movie together while curled up in bed. It was honestly the best night of my life. Domesticity was something I had dreamed about. Honestly, more than the sex.
I just wanted her. Just like this.
I didn’t know what I did to deserve her, but having her in my arms, like this, made everything worth it.
Every single fucked-up thing.