Chapter 10 #2
He spins her around, pressing her back firmly against his body. One hand brazenly fondles her breasts while the other slips down to her mound, fingers seeking her clit. She gasps at his relentless touch, feeling the slow, deliberate circles he traces against her most sensitive spot.
“Wait! Stop!”
She arches her back, leaning her head against him as he continues his demanding caresses. Max’s nature is anything but gentle, and his touches reflect that. They’re greedy, insistent, and consuming. Her pussy hums and throbs, her pulse quickening with every movement.
She feels close to coming, her vision blurring as she revels in the indescribable pleasure—until he suddenly pulls his hand away.
She groans in frustration as he spins her around. Her pussy aches with need as she tentatively meets his gaze.
“Do the same for me,” he instructs gently, prying one of her fists open to squeeze a dollop of body wash into her palm.
With great reluctance, she mimics his movements, lathering the soap in her hands before finally rubbing it over his chest. The tension between them is palpable as her hands glide up to his shoulders and down his arms. Her eyes drift downward to his erect penis, twitching sporadically with every motion of her hands against his upper body.
She wonders how anyone could ever get used to something so large.
Though it didn’t hurt as much as last time, she had definitely woken up with a lingering ache and some subtle cramping.
A smirk curls at his lips as he notices her biting down on her bottom lip.
He brushes her hands aside, his voice low but firm as he nods toward the marble bench. “Go. Bend over.”
Slowly, she turns and moves toward the bench. She places her palms on the cold marble, arching instinctively, presenting him with her soft, exposed curves.
He groans. Her sweetness, mixed with her resigned obedience, pushes him to the edge, setting his blood ablaze.
He steps in behind her, his stiff erection lining up with her slick, battered entrance, still bearing the evidence of what he’s already taken.
With a firm grip around her waist, he pulls her upward until she’s forced onto the tips of her toes.
A low moan escapes her lips as he begins to push into her.
Her breath catches, and she shudders, lashes fluttering as the pleasurable ache climbs her spine like smoke.
The delicious burn of his thick length stretching her sore, tight walls sends waves of urgent desire crashing through her.
She wants to scream, to beg him to thrust his entire length inside and let her relive the raw pleasure of the night before.
Thankfully, a small part of her, clinging to the last shreds of sanity, keeps her silent.
His possessive hands grip her waist tightly as he burrows deeper and deeper inside her.
She groans, basking in the exquisite pleasure of being overfilled once again, his shaft reaching a spot so deep it sends sparks shooting through her entire body.
Her heavy breasts bounce wildly with each rough thrust.
“Max, wait! You’re too rough!” she cries, legs quaking beneath her.
He withdraws and spins her around. The heat of the cascading water, combined with the relentless pace, leaves her disoriented.
He lifts her effortlessly, pressing her against the cool shower wall before driving into her again, hard and fast. Her legs instinctively wrap around his waist to keep from falling, and he tightens his grip, holding her firmly as she clings to him.
As he thrusts into her at a steady pace, he crushes his lips against hers. His kiss is fierce, almost punishing in intensity. His tongue invades her mouth, seeking solace in the heat of their shared passion as she surrenders.
He likes the way her fingers rake through his hair, one slender hand pulling him deeper into the kiss. Her touch is electric. Despite her earlier resistance, he delights in her newfound compliance.
Pulling away from her mouth, he trails slow, deliberate kisses down her neck to her chest, pausing after each one to breathe her in. Her scent, mingled with body wash, is a potent drug, intoxicating and addictive, leaving him craving more with every passing second.
Inside him, desire builds at a maddening pace as he loses himself in her, craving to devour her whole.
Soon, shockwaves of splintering pleasure tear through her as she comes, muscles clenching violently around him while her nails dig into the back of his neck and broad shoulders. She writhes and thrashes in his arms, caught in the merciless grip of ecstasy.
“Max,” she breathes, voice heavy and ragged, as he drives into her with relentless force, chasing his own release. “Please…!”
“Please what?” he rasps, his pace brutal and unyielding.
“Please come,” she begs, voice raw. “Hurry.”
He tenses, erupting deeply inside her. His member throbs and pulses, releasing thick ropes of seed deep within her. Stars explode behind her closed eyes as she loses herself completely, drowned in the dark, overwhelming rush of ecstasy.
11
Max hands her a dark grey hoodie from his closet.
As she takes it, pausing to examine the fabric, his eyes drift to the fresh marks he left on her body the night before, lingering on the darkening hickeys blooming along her neck with quiet pride.
He knows he’s no better than a dog marking its territory, but he doesn’t care.
She stirs something primal in him, raw and feral, that hasn’t surfaced in years.
He watches as she pulls the hoodie over her body, finally covering the thin, cheap piece of fabric she calls a dress.
Still, he can’t stop thinking about how the tight, stretchy material clings to her, hugging her slim waist, the curve of her breasts, and the swell of her heart-shaped ass and full, round hips.
She turns toward him slowly, cheeks flushed. She fidgets before mumbling, “I’m missing my underwear.”
He knows. Her underwear is folded in the front pocket of his trousers. He has no intention of giving it back.
“Sounds like you had a pretty wild night,” he says, his eyes fixed on her until she begins to squirm under his gaze.
“I can’t go out like this.”
“They were completely soaked last night,” he replies, amusement flickering in his tone. “Why would you want to wear them again?”
She cringes at his words, brows knitting together in fury and disgust. She’s sure he has them, and the thought of what he might want them for knots her stomach in revulsion.
“Whatever. Keep it, you pervert. Where’s my phone?”
Ignoring her question, he takes her hand and leads her back into the bedroom.
A surge of apprehension courses through her as she eyes the tousled state of the bed.
Though part of her feels relief at being fully dressed again, another part still wants to run, escape the unsettling situation she woke to.
The fear of this unstable man, who has shown no respect for boundaries, keeps her rooted in place.
She treads quietly, following him to an armchair by the tall window.
“Sit,” he directs, tone leaving no room for argument. With great reluctance, she sinks into the plush upholstery. Uneasiness creeps at the edges of her consciousness as her eyes flick around the room. She can feel his gaze drilling into her back, his presence looming like a dark shadow.
Waiting with bated breath, she fights the urge to squirm in the seat, heart pounding wildly, hoping to leave his home as soon as possible.
“I like you, you know,” he finally says, breaking the silence.
He pulls her back until she’s flush against the armchair.
She had been perched at the edge, ready to bolt.
Leaning down behind her, he plants a chaste kiss on the crown of her head.
The gesture is intimate, surprisingly tender, catching her off guard and leaving her reeling.
It’s a move one normally reserves for a lover in an established relationship…
But it’s clear to her that he is anything but normal.
His words sound sincere. She doesn’t like the bewildering feelings flooding through her.
“I like you a lot,” he adds.
“You do?” she asks, voice small and cautious, disbelief heavy in her tone. The idea seems absurd; they barely know each other.
She figures he probably thinks she’s a na?ve girl, easily swayed by empty words. The thought of him thinking so little of her causes her hands to ball into tight fists beside her.
“Yes,” he admits without hesitation, moving to the armchair opposite hers. “You’ve been running through my mind.”
“Why?”
“I’m not really sure.”
She rolls her eyes. Despite waking up in the most luxurious bedding she’s ever known, she feels utterly exhausted, stuck dealing with this man and his charade of being smitten with her. “What time is it? Where’s my phone?” she asks, tone clipped and dismissive.
Without a word, he stands and leaves the room. She assumes he’ll return with her phone, but a moment later, he comes back carrying only a glass of water.
He silently offers it to her, and after a moment of hesitation, she reaches up and takes it. She examines the glass suspiciously. The water looks clear… but she doesn’t entirely trust it. With him, she can never be too careful. The bitter thought reminds her: she needs to plan her escape—and soon.
“What time is it?” she repeats, unable to hide the sharp edge in her voice.
“It’s a little past ten,” he replies, voice calm, measured.
She sips the water, the cool, refreshing liquid offering a momentary respite from the tension hanging heavily in the air. He sits across from her again, watching her with unsettling intensity. He’s so unreadable that it makes her skin crawl.
After a moment of silence, she finally speaks. “Can I ask you something?”
“Ask away.”
“Those rooms on the third floor at the club… Do you know what they’re for?”