10. Hayley
10
HAYLEY
I should walk away. I really should, but the whole area between my legs feels bigger than usual. Throbbing. Heated. Tingling and needy.
So instead, my feet take me to my boss, compelled as though he’s a magnet.
“Good girl,” he murmurs as I step under the spray of the shower. His cock is in his motionless hand, but his gaze roves over my body, and his expression is ravenous.
And honestly, I’m just as desperate for him. It’s been a very weird and distressing day, I’m worried about Payton, and I really want to lose myself.
If you’d asked me what might have done that this morning, I’d have said a bar of chocolate and my favourite drink, but Maxim inviting me into the shower, naked, turns out to be much better.
He drops his arms to his sides, and my god. He’s enormous all over, his chest wide and his arms as thick as my thighs. Where having no clothes on has made me feel slight and tiny, it’s somehow makes him seem even bigger.
My gaze gravitates down, inevitably.
To his cock. Where metal spheres that must be the endings of bars stand out in stark contrast to his skin.
“Can I touch it?” Desire is making me brave. And he wouldn’t have told me I could look, ordered me to drop my towel, and beckoned me over to join him in the shower if he didn’t want me at all, right?
But all that metal. I know how piercings work—they’re healed wounds—and yet, I can’t quite believe it doesn’t hurt when it’s tense and solid.
“Yes,” he replies, laughter in his tone. And when I look up into his face there’s that indulgent smile that’s familiar from all the closing times at the café we’ve spent together.
I reach out tentatively, and stroke one finger up his length, lightly bumping each of the metal balls, and he hisses when I reach the top.
“Too much?” I whip my hand back.
“No,” he says hoarsely.
Very carefully, I ghost my fingertips over the bulging head where opaque liquid is just visible at the tip before the spray washes it away.
Then I return to the barbells. The contrast of the velvet of his skin and the smooth, warm metal is unexpected. It’s altogether more erotic than I could ever have dreamed.
I wasn’t into men with piercings. Honestly, I didn’t even know this was possible. But I’m compelled. There’s something so brash about it. Nothing says strength and resilience like bars of metal through your most sensitive body part.
He lets out a soft groan as I brush the top barbells with my fingertip.
“Did it hurt when you had it done?” I ask, looking up into his face. I have to crane my neck, because he’s so tall compared to me. His short black beard has water droplets in it, emphasising the strands of silver that thread his temples, and his dark eyebrows seem to sluice water from his eyes.
“Pain is not something that bothers me.”
That’s a yes. My gaze drops again to his shaft, where the skin is taut and strained, and a vein bulges. I run my thumb around the tip.
“Does it hurt now?” I check.
There’s gentle amusement in his smile as he replies, “Quite the opposite, malishka. With your fingers on me, it feels very good.”
“Ohh,” I breathe. I’m glad.
“And I’m told it’s very pleasurable for a woman, too.”
“What, being pierced?” I ask, alarm thrilling down my veins.
He chuckles. “Maybe. But I meant riding a cock that has these metal bars rubbing inside of your cunt.”
Excitement and jealousy skitter over my skin. I really don’t like the idea of Maxim with anyone else.
“So your…” I have to force the words out. “Previous lovers liked your piercings?”
“No.”
Wait, what? They didn’t enjoy it?
“They never found out,” he continues smoothly. “I had the Jacob’s Ladder done—that’s what they’re called, or frenum piercings—because sex with partners was becoming tiresome, and I was looking to make using my own hand—alone—more stimulating. My knowledge about how it is for a woman is purely academic.”
“Oh.” The joy of knowing he hasn’t had anyone in his bed for years battles with fear that maybe he doesn’t want me eit her . My hand falls away and I look at the defined muscles on his side that dip his waist into a “V”. I feel so awkward.
“Hayley.” His fingers grip my chin and tip my head until I’m gazing into those silver-grey eyes again. “I didn’t invite anybody else. Haven’t for years. But I invited you .”
A bolt of electricity goes down my spine.
“Now, put your hands on your boss’ intimidating cock, like a good girl.”
I reach out, because saying no to Maxim is impossible. I’m shaking with anticipation and adrenaline and sheer elation. And some fear. Because I’ve never done this before, and what if I get it wrong?
I wrap my hands around his erection—or try to—and he jerks and lets out a grunt.
I gasp.
“No, no,” he reassures me. “That feels good, malishka.”
Looking away from his cock and up into his face, the intensity of the desire I see there melts me.
I glide my palms softly over his length, over the round ends of the bars and we stare into each other’s eyes. Every part of Maxim is compelling, but the way he looks at me right now, with my hands on his most intimate place, his breath catching every time my fingers snags on a barbell? It’s confirmation of everything that has fizzed between us since we met. All the lingering glances I thought I saw, and the butterflies that took off in my stomach whenever we were together.
My touch is exploratory as I learn him. He likes it most on the head, and over the first two bars.
“You can be rougher than that,” he says with a twist of humour, after a while. “I won’t break easily.”
Oh my god. Break? I snatch my hand away. Is that possible?!
“I’ve never done this before,” I confess in a rush, heat staining my cheeks. “I’m a virgin.”
There must be panic in my expression, because he smiles. “Want me to show you?”
My brain goes static. “How to touch you?”
“Yes.” Then his big hand covers mine and brings it back to his cock. And it’s my turn to groan when my fingers are trapped between his firm, warm palm and his hot, silky smooth, rock-solid erection. He moves so our hands cover the barbells, then squeezes his fist, tightening my fingers on him. “My secret virgin girl, I’ll show you anything you’d like.”
Arousal shudders down my spine as he begins to move.
He’s firm, and his hand totally encompasses mine in a way that makes me feel like his toy as he runs our fingers up and down, mainly at the top, rubbing over the barbells, just the first three inches or so of his length, leaving the rest almost untouched.
“That’s it.” He lets out a low moan and tightens his grip. “Such a good girl.”
I press my thighs together and it’s like sparks from the pressure. My nipples are pebbled, my whole body aching for this man as he uses my hand to pleasure himself. He moves so much faster and harder than I would have dared, especially given his Jacob’s Ladder.
“I’m not going to last,” he mutters, almost to himself. “Not with…” He cups his palm over one of my breasts, and his erection swells more, as though he likes that, but he’s looking into my eyes.
He angles our hands towards me, and I don’t understand for a second.
Then his cock throbs, expanding, the helmet getting bigger.
The moment he comes is an eruption. Hot, sticky liquid hits my chest and belly, and I gasp. It’s unexpected and dirty, and clearly deliberate. Like he wants to cover me.
It clings to my skin and the heat and slide of it is indescribably erotic on my nipples.
And there’s more, in multiple jets of white. He shudders. His mouth opens in an almost silent roar of pleasure, and his face creases as though sensation is wrecking him.
His hand slows and then stops as he spasms and his head drops.
I did that.
The pride is unexpected. I revel in the knowledge I made this powerful man come apart at the seams. His seed all over my chest is a momentary glow that perhaps he’s marking me as his.
I would love a tattoo of the marks, a permanent reminder of the moment I belonged to Maxim.
He’s still breathing hard as he shifts his fingers on my breast, smearing white across it and massaging it into my skin even as the shower begins to wash it away. Our hands remain interlinked on his cock.
Then he removes his hand from my breast and raises it to his mouth, then deliberately licks.
A bolt of fresh desire strikes me, and my clit pulses as he sucks his fingers, watching me.
And I lean closer. Greedy for more of this undoubtedly filthy act. More of him.
“Hayley,” he says brokenly, and shifts his hand from his mouth to brush my hair from where it’s plastered to my face by the water, and runs his finger across my cheek over to rest on my lip, so gentle after how he was fierce using my hand. My tongue slips out to lap up the seed he put there, and the taste of him fills my mouth, tangy and a musk undertone.
I shudder with need. I’d love to cover myself in him.
“I…” But instead of finishing that statement, he seems to bite it back, and releases my hand on his erection and cups my jaw with both palms, leans down, and kisses me.
His lips are soft in a way that his pierced cock wasn’t, and I moan as he slides his mouth over mine. Everything is wet and slick between us, and there’s the sweet of the water from the shower, the flavour of his seed still on my tongue, and the clean taste of him.
He’s such a contradiction. Big and burley, strong and covered in ink and scars. But he’s cradling my face carefully, like I’m precious.
He breathes between kisses, as though there are words on the tip of his tongue that he wants to say, but can’t bring himself to.
This is a world away from anything I’ve experienced. No clothing between us, and no words either. But we’re in sync. I’ve never really kissed anyone before, but I’m naked, chest to chest with this tattooed bear of a man, and it’s unbelievable. He’s hard all over, and warm, his shoulders wide.
Embracing him makes me feel tiny. And he’s so big. I don’t think I’ve ever been held by someone bigger than me.
I’ve definitely never been plastered against a man’s body, and I’m buzzing with it. My breasts crushed against his chest is slick friction. His hair is rough, and smooth all at once. I can’t believe how it’s lighting me up as his mouth claims mine and his fingers grip my flesh, hard enough to bruise. Like he’ll never let me go.
And between my legs, I’m throbbing. That part at least, is familiar. I’ve wanted Maxim since we first met, and the initial bolt of physical desire has only spread and deepened.
I’m wriggling and whimpering and trying to kiss him back and touch him more, and get closer. I’m a bundle of nerve endings with their “Yes” turned up to eleven.
This is a sensation overload in the best way. His wet mouth, the coarse prickle of his beard almost painful on my cheeks, his big body and being pressed hard against him. The warm water still falling on us from the shower, keeping every shift charged and silky. The sound of his rumbling purr when I meet his tongue with mine, and the feel of his wet skin—like silk when I reach up to steady myself with his shoulders.
The bars of his piercings dig into my tummy and the water sliding over the cheeks of my bottom are erotic. When did water become horny?
But nothing is as hot as the way Maxim holds me.
His kiss is strong and commanding, his tongue exploring my mouth, interspersed with nibbles and licks and sucks on my bottom lip.
Maxim lets out a stream of words in Russian, rough and low between hisses that drag down my cheeks and to my jaw, then my ear. The combination is intoxicating, making me shiver with lust.
“Malishka,” he whispers. There’s a swoop in my tummy as he kneels.
I’m halfway through a noise of confusion and protest at the lack of kiss, and I’m shaky, but manage to stand, my heart sinking. I guess this is over. But Maxim doesn’t release me, as I expect.
“So beautiful.” He grasps my hips, dips his head, and kisses the curve of my mound. Heat blooms in me.
“You don’t have to—” I don’t even know what I’m saying.
He gives a dark chuckle. “Oh malishka. I do not have to. But I want to. I’ll die if I endure another second without tasting you.”
My brain stutters and goes blank as he holds my waist with one hand and grabs my thigh with the other, lifting my knee to his shoulder and hooking my leg over his shoulders.
His grey eyes are on mine, gazing up at me and the perspective change is totally unexpected. Shocking, even. I’m used to looking up at my boss, but he’s sitting on his heels, with water dripping down his face and running over his beautiful body, and he gives me this fierce look.
Then leaning in, he sticks out his tongue and drags the wide flat of it all the way up my exposed pussy, jolting pleasure into my core.
I can’t believe it.
Looking up, he smirks. “Delicious.”
I have nothing but buzzing in my head and through my body.
His eyes go serious, and the cheeky smile disappears as his gaze drops to where I’m naked and opened for him.
My clit pulses from his regard, because combined with his firm hands on me and the flash of the memory of the ruthless way he killed those men to save me, I’m compelled. This man is a killer, and dangerous. He’s older, experienced, and unimaginably wealthy.
And he’s looking at my virgin pussy as though it’s his, and he wants to consume it—me—whole.
“Hayley, I’m starving for you.” he says hoarsely. “Let me eat.”