Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
T hey were kissing. Holy fuck, they were kissing.
Or they had been. Five seconds ago, Max’s mouth had crashed onto hers. For real this time.
The scrape of stubble, the press of lips – soft, then savage. Like he’d go hungry without her. Stealing her breath. Scrambling her thoughts. Rewiring her brain.
Now Rowan was pinned against a piano. Its smooth surface was cold against her spine, but he was burning her up everywhere else. His hard length pressed through the fine wool of his trousers, a grinding tease right where she ached for him.
His breath came fast. Rough.
This wasn’t the Max she knew. Not the man who guarded himself at all times.
His grey eyes snared hers and held. A promise. A warning. A challenge.
One she was about to lose. Because there was no going back.
This wasn’t some cocky fuckboy fumbling in the dark. No, Max was a man.
In his eyes, she saw her own hunger staring back. She needed him. Like oxygen. Like coffee on a Monday morning. And she’d never needed anybody. Not like this.
He let out a sharp breath. ‘This wasn’t supposed to happen.’
‘What…wasn’t?’
His hands – those strong hands – trailed up her ribcage. His touch was a contradiction, just like him. Gentle and commanding.
‘You, Rowan.’
A laugh caught in her throat. ‘Aye, well…join the club.’ Then she pressed into his touch, let him feel how little fight she had left. ‘Guess we’re both fucked, then.’
‘Very.’ Max reached behind her, found the clasp of her bra, and flicked it open like he’d been undoing her his entire life. He pushed the lace up and rubbed his thumbs over her hardened peaks. ‘God, look at you. You’re exquisite.’
‘I bet you say that to all the girls with tiny boobs.’
He bent down, his face inches from hers. ‘No, Rowan. I normally don’t talk during sex.’
‘Then… Why are you talking to me?’
Why, out of all the women he could have – polished, sophisticated supermodels and socialites – was he here with her?
His lips brushed the shell of her ear, sending a throb of need straight between her thighs. ‘Because you’re my wife, and you deserve to hear how stunning you are.’
He lowered his head, and a gasp punched from her lungs as his mouth closed around her nipple. A testing, teasing flick – then he sucked hard enough to make her jolt.
‘Ah! God, Max…Your mouth–’
He soothed the sting with a slow, wet lap. ‘Do you want me to be gentle?’
‘N-no?’ Her cheeks burned, as if she’d stepped too close to an open flame. ‘I…like it.’
A groan rumbled up from his chest as he dragged his open mouth over her skin.
‘Is that right?’ He bit down, and her spine arched clean off the piano. ‘Does my wife like getting fucked up by her husband?’
‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘God, yes.’
She felt it. The wetness rushing between her thighs, the desperation to have him inside her. Her hips jerked against his, seeking release. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this needy.
Never, that was when.
But Max was in no hurry. He pulled back, his eyes burning into hers. This man – this powerful, dark, complex man – wanted her as much as she wanted him.
When the hell had that happened?
She leaned back on her elbows, and he slid his hands down her sides until he found the zipper of her jeans. Her breath stuttered as he hooked his thumbs in the waistband, lifted her hips, and pulled the denim down her thighs and calves.
‘You know…’ He skimmed the seam of her panties. ‘…I almost fucked you when you walked into my bedroom on our wedding night in that excuse for a shirt. And I was seconds away from fucking you in that tiny dress on my birthday. You got so close twice, Rowan.’
A single touch. A firm, electrifying circle over her clit, right where she needed it.
‘Shit, Max… Just like that. Just like that.’
‘And judging by how wet you are right now, you would have let me. Both times.’
Oh, Yes. Very much so.
Max hooked his fingers into the waistband of her thong and peeled the lace down. The fabric hit the floor without a sound.
‘Open your legs for me. Let your husband see you.’
He settled onto the piano bench and gripped her thighs. Spreading her. Holding her in place. The vulnerability of it should have made her feel exposed, bare.
But no.
Because she saw what she was doing to him. His heaving chest, his huge pupils. He traced the crease where her thigh met her hip.
‘So pretty. Dammit, Rowan. Why do you have to be so perfect?’
‘You’re only now realising that?’
His response was a growl. ‘Cocky.’
‘You love it.’
‘As a matter of fact, I do.’
Before she could retort, he ran his tongue over her sex in one long, languid stroke.
‘Oh, fuck!’
Pleasure crashed through her. Her feet hit the keys in a resounding chord vibrating through the wood, through her, through every inch of her soul.
She had not meant to do that.
He kissed her mound before straightening up. Her hips tilted in desperation as he drew one teasing, tortuous circle around her entrance.
‘So delicious. So wet for me.’
This was too much and not enough.
‘Would you kindly fuck me already? I’m so wet for a reason.’ She was done with the teasing, done with the games. She needed him inside her. Needed to be one…with her husband.
Yeah, that was a surprise.
‘Patience, Rowan. We have all night.’
She opened her mouth to argue, to demand more, now, right this second, but he was already moving. His middle finger eased inside. Slow, painfully slow.
‘So tight and hot. I can’t wait to feel you.’
‘Then—’
‘Shhh…’ He pushed deeper.
Her lids slid shut on a sigh as pleasure washed over her.
‘No.’ His voice slashed through the moment. ‘Eyes on me.’
Her lids flew open again. She couldn’t look away if she wanted to. He added another and her body took over, pushing back against him.
‘Oh, m-my God!’
‘You’re all over my wedding ring,’ he whispered into her ear. ‘ That’s how wet you are for your husband.’
A pulse of mind-melting pleasure blasted through her. She was close, and the look in his eyes told her he knew it. He’d got her there so easily, it was almost humiliating.
‘Oh! Max… I’m coming. I’m co—’
‘Not yet.’ His voice brooked no argument.
And then he stopped.
Her hips twitched, but he held her still with his other hand. Why was he so strong? She let out a whimper. A plea, a protest, a broken mess of both.
‘You’re so pretty like this, all flushed.’ His tongue brushed over her lower lip, soothing, like he wasn’t destroying her from the inside out.
‘Max, stop it. I… I need you in me.’
‘And I need a proper taste of my wife.’
He lowered himself onto the piano bench. Then his mouth was on her. Hot, slick pressure. The fast flick of his tongue. Skilled torment that sent her reality spiralling.
‘Fuck. Jesus Christ. Oh… Yes! Yes! Make me come, make me come, please…’
He sucked her clit between his lips, just enough to wrench out a sound she hadn’t even known she could make.
Overwhelming. Too much. A million per cent right.
Yes, he was eating her pussy as if he had a Master’s in Cunnilingus Studies.
Rowan’s voice reached her ears from somewhere outside her body. Her thighs trembled around his shoulders. Every muscle tightened, her body strung tight, ready to snap.
Max glided his broad palm over the mess he’d made of her, each pass coaxing out more, more, more.
‘Christ… I’m losing my… I’m… Ah! Max!’
Her hips rocked against him, chasing friction, pride be damned.
But just as quickly, he eased off. ‘On your knees, Rowan.’
Her brain short-circuited. ‘What?’
‘On your knees. I want my birthday present.’
Rowan’s pulse thrashed as he lifted her off the piano and sat her down with a grip possessive enough to leave a mark. Her legs wobbled as she stood before him, but she lifted her chin and held his stare as he loosened his belt. The clink of the metal buckle lit a sparkler in the pit of her stomach, tingling through her veins.
He shoved down his designer briefs, and her breath caught.
Rowan was as far away from being a virgin as Scotland was from the Virgin Islands, but…
She had not been ready.
Not for this.
Thick. Heavy. Demanding.
Max closed his hand around the base, giving himself a lazy stroke. ‘Show me what a lucky man I am that I married you.’
A skein of defiance and desire warred in her chest. She was not one to be commanded. But the challenge in his voice, the need… She wanted to prove to him she could take whatever he dished out – and then some. That she could wreck him just like he had her.
So Rowan sank to her knees. Heat pulsed between her legs.
She had never understood the appeal of surrender.
Until now.
‘Open your mouth for me. That’s it. Nice and wide.’
She leaned in and flicked her tongue against the head of his cock.
Max hissed in a breath, his hips jerking forward. Rowan was the one on her knees, but she held the power. And they both knew it. She curled her hand around him, steel sheathed in warm velvet, and pumped him with a firm grip.
‘Stop teasing,’ he growled.
‘Patience,’ she echoed his earlier words. ‘We have all night.’
His eyes blazed with desire and admiration. That flicker, that thrill, when she pushed back – it lit him up.
And it left her drunk on him.
She took him inch by inch. He groaned, hand tangled in her hair. But she refused to be rushed.
Her mouth. Her rules. Her pace.
‘Fuck…’ His fingers flexed, not pulling, just holding on. Like he needed a lifeline. Like she was the only thing keeping him tethered to the ground. He was shaking. Not much, just a tremor at the base of his spine.
Because of her. Because he couldn’t help it. Because he was starting to understand what this could mean.
And so did Rowan.
‘You feel that? You’re doing this to me. I’ve never been as hard as I am for my wife.’
A pause. Like he wasn’t sure if he should say the next words. ‘Let me feel the back of your throat. Make me yours.’
Her pulse surged. She had never let herself belong. And now, kneeling before the man who was her husband, she was consumed by the need to change that.
She relaxed her jaw, pushed her head forward, and took him. Took him until her eyes watered, until his breath turned ragged above her.
‘God, Rowan. Fuck yes!’
His head dropped back. He was losing control. She felt it in the way he trembled, the throb against her tongue. He was close. She wanted to push him over the edge. Wanted to reduce him to nothing but need.
Wanted to make him hers as inevitably as she was becoming his.
Max stared down at her mouth stretched around him. His cock pulsed in time with the racing drumbeat in his chest. Lips shiny, cheeks flushed, eyes wet from the effort.
‘You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? The power you have over me.’
Her tongue flicked out to lick him off her lips. ‘Obviously.’
He hoisted her up, spun her around, and bent her over the piano bench.
‘You undo me, Rowan. And you know it. And now…’ He pushed against the soft heat where her thighs met.
‘Oh, do I finally deserve to be fucked? What’s the verdict?’
He lowered his mouth to her ear. ‘Yes. You’re a good wife for keeping your promise and taking me all the way. You deserve to be fucked precisely how you like it.’
‘How do you know that I like what you’re doing?’
He ran his palm over the slight rise of her ass and slipped his fingers between her legs.
Wet. Hot. Soaked for him.
Oh God.
‘Because your pussy is screaming for me so loudly, the whole village can hear it.’
‘Then what are you waiting for?’
‘Do you want me to put on a condom?’
‘No. I need…to feel you.’
‘Fucking my wife bare? That’s how it should be.’ Max dug his fingers into her hips. ‘Birth control?’
‘Yes, yes. I’m on it. Clean?’
His breath shuddered against her neck. ‘Tested. You?’
‘Yes! Same.’ Her hand reached behind her, desperate to pull him into her. ‘Now Max. Please, please!’
A groan tore out of him. ‘Jesus. Fuck.’
He gripped his base and pushed in, sinking into her impossible heat. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Every nerve, every thought, funnelled down to this.
‘M-more.’ Her needy moan cracked something inside him.
Each inch was a battle for control he was doomed to lose.
‘OH! It’s so much… That’s a lot of… Oh my God.’
Her body took him in slow, impossibly snug and slick. ‘You’re so tight. You’re squeezing me. Like you never want to let go.’
‘Maybe I don’t.’ She glanced over her shoulder, mouth kiss-bruised, eyes glittering. ‘I need you so bad… All of it…all of it… I want all of it…’
He drove into her with one smooth thrust, wringing a helpless cry from her, forcing her to stretch around him until there was nothing left between them.
No arrangement. No contract. Just her. Just him. Just this.
She took him beautifully, bravely. Like she was made for him.
Maybe she was.
Maybe he was made for her, too.
Her hands scrambled for purchase on the grand piano, breath breaking into little cries that stole his sanity.
‘Is this what you wanted? For me to take you like you’re mine?’
‘Yours? I thought…this was a…marriage of convenience.’
He leaned over her. ‘This is…the opposite of convenient. This is necessary.’
‘Are you telling me…that you…need me?’
The truth crawled up his throat. Something he had never, ever let himself feel before.
He was lost in her.
And he wanted to stay here.
‘What does it feel like to you, hm?’
A moan rolled over her lips, her body arching into his. Not an answer. A surrender. ‘Max… oh God… I-I need you—’
His blood was too hot. Pressure coiled at the base of his spine, his balls pulling tight, but it wasn’t enough. He needed her to know that this – whatever it was – was irreversible.
He slowed to a deliberate grind. Let her feel it. The way he stretched her, filled her, owned her. Her body trembled. He felt the sharp inhale, her thighs shaking.
‘OH! Max… What are…you doing?’
Holding back had never been this painful. He needed to come so badly it hurt. But not until she knew. Not until she felt what he felt.
He did it again. And again. Slow and deep.
Her hips bucked back, but he held her in place. ‘You’re so perfect for me, Rowan. So fucking perfect.’
She turned enough to find his mouth in a feral kiss. Teeth. Tongues. A clash of need. She kissed like she fought. Like she lived. Without restraint, without apology.
With all her heart.
He slid his hand between her thighs and rolled his thumb over her clit. ‘Now come for your husband.’
‘Make…me.’
His lungs burned. His vision blurred. It was as if he was having a heart attack. But it wasn’t a heart attack. It was something worse. Something he had never experienced, and yet he knew what it was. He knew.
He was falling for her.
And then he fucked her like he needed it imprinted on her soul. He gave her everything he had.
Everything that was supposed to belong to no one.
All hers.
She shattered beneath him with a raw cry. Her body locked down around him, pulling him deeper, taking him under with her. There was nothing left to break his fall. His balls drew tight and a shockwave shot up his spine, each burst a hot pulse travelling up his shaft. His body collapsed over her back, muscles wrung dry, breath ragged against her damp skin. His heart raged inside him like it was trying to break free.
‘God, Rowan.’ His voice was nothing but a low, broken rasp. ‘I made you mine. Whether you like it or not.’
She looked over her shoulder, and her satisfied smile stole the last piece of him. ‘I kind of do like it. And I don’t know if you noticed, but you’re mine, too. For better or worse and all that.’
Max pulled back, turned her around, and gently scooped her up into his arms. Her body was soft and pliant against him. He kissed her hot, damp forehead. She felt small, almost fragile, but oh, he knew better.
This woman was a force of nature.
His only equal.
She looped her arms around his neck, her head nestling into the crook of his shoulder like she trusted him. He hitched her up higher and kissed her temple.
‘Where are you taking me?’ she murmured.
‘Into our bed. Where you belong.’
She melted against him, her breath warm against his skin. A strange feeling took root in his chest, something quiet but vast. Humility. Fierce protectiveness. The bone-deep need to keep her safe. He fastened his hold as if he could shield her from the world.
Because that was what husbands did.
And that was what he would do for Rowan. Every second. For as long as she let him.