Chapter 16 Rory #2
Then I threw my body at him before he could demand the truth. Because I almost wanted to give it to him. But I didn’t want to spoil this fragile thing between us with delusional suggestions of forever.
Not when he actually liked, liked me.
He caught me with a soft sound, wrapping his arms around me as I stretched upward on my tiptoes to kiss him deeply. I wanted Maxwell’s hand on my dick so badly I could scream with it—and then suddenly his hand was there, cupping me through my jeans, squeezing with just the right pressure.
Maxwell’s breath ghosted against my ear, making me practically melt into a puddle as he whispered, “Can I taste you?”
My brain short-circuited. Four simple words that nearly sent me over the edge right there. Yes, yes, yes, my mind screamed, every cell in my body vibrating with want.
Maxwell pulled back slightly, dark eyes searching mine. “I want to hear you say it.”
“God, yes,” I managed to gasp out, my voice embarrassingly breathy. “Please. Before I combust.”
The corner of his mouth twitched upward in satisfaction. “You know, I think I like you desperate.”
And suddenly he was moving at lightning speed. His fingers found the button of my jeans, making quick work of it and my zip. I hopped awkwardly, helping him as he tugged them down my legs with an urgency that made my heart race.
The sound of Maxwell’s knees hitting the kitchen tiles had me quivering in anticipation. He reached for my underwear… then froze. His eyes widened comically behind his glasses as he stared at the bright pink fabric adorned with cheerful yellow rubber ducks.
“Fun, right?” I said, wiggling my hips slightly.
Maxwell still looked semi-shocked, blinking rapidly as though trying to process what he was seeing.
But then something shifted in his expression—a softening around his eyes, a quirk of his lips—and he leaned forward, pressing his open mouth against my hipbone.
The hot slide of his tongue made me shudder, my hands finding purchase in his tight coils.
With a boldness that surprised me, he grabbed the waistband of my ridiculous underwear with his teeth and began dragging them down, his hands coming up to knead my ass cheeks firmly.
And then suddenly, there I was—completely exposed, my cock proudly jutting between us. A wave of anxiety washed over me as Maxwell stared. What if he didn’t really want this? What if he felt obligated to reciprocate after last night? What if—
“Rory,” Maxwell said, voice firm but gentle. “What is it going to take to convince you that I’m attracted to every part of you, including your dick?”
“Umm…” I laughed weakly. “A fucking killer hot blow job?”
“No pressure, then,” he muttered, swallowing visibly. For a moment, something flashed across his face, and I caught the nervousness he was trying to hide. “You know, I obviously haven’t done this before, so… ‘killer hot blow job’ might be a bit of a stretch. Will marginally adequate do?”
My heart gave a tiny squeeze. “Maxwell, you could probably read me the phone book right now and I’d come. I don’t actually need killer hot. I just need you.”
His expression softened as he reached up, stroking over the dark blond thatch of hair above my dick, his fingers surprisingly gentle as they traced patterns through the coarse curls. I fought hard not to purr like a kitten.
The first touch of his tongue—right where I wanted it, right over my tip, where precum trickled out—had my eyes closing, as I let myself sink into the sensation. I quickly forced them open again, because I wanted to savour every bit of this with every single one of my senses.
I was just in time to catch Maxwell’s mouth widening, his lips stretching around me as he took me in. The most exquisite silky heat enveloped me, making my breath hitch and my fingers clutch desperately at his shoulders.
He didn’t hesitate. His enthusiasm left no space for doubt as he worked me with surprising skill, taking me deeper with each bob of his head. The way he moved—like he was savouring the finest delicacy and wouldn’t allow anyone to interrupt his feast—had me making noises I’d definitely deny later.
All my previous concerns evaporated like smoke.
Because there was no way Maxwell wasn’t into this.
Not when his eyes kept flicking up to meet mine, dark and intent.
Not when he was gripping my thighs with those gloriously large hands, fingers pressing insistently into my skin as though he’d arrest me if I dared move away.
My fingers once again found purchase in his coils, their texture familiar now.
I thrust forward slightly, unable to help myself.
Maxwell chuckled, the vibration rippling through me and dragging a broken moan from my throat.
He settled into a rhythm, his cheeks hollowing as he sucked, the pressure making my toes curl against the kitchen tiles.
My knees started to shake, threatening to buckle entirely. Thank god for Maxwell’s firm grip on my hips, his strong hands holding me steady while he continued his glorious assault.
One of his hands began to wander, sliding from my hip around to the curve of my ass. He hesitated there, his touch questioning.
Yes, please. Please, please, please, please.
Maxwell’s eyes flicked up to meet mine, confirmation sparking in their depths. His fingers traced the cleft of my ass, and then—oh, fuck—he pressed just slightly against my hole, the barest hint of pressure.
I gasped, my back arching involuntarily. It was too much, too good—I was going to come embarrassingly fast if he kept this up.
“Wait,” I panted, tugging lightly at his hair and pushing against his shoulder.
Maxwell pulled off with an obscenely wet sound, his lips swollen and glistening. He wiped the drool from his mouth with the back of his hand, looking up at me with questioning eyes.
“Rory, if you’re about to ask me if I like, like you again, that really will be the death of me.”
“Do you want to fuck me?” tumbled ungraciously out of my mouth.
Maxwell’s mouth made an O of surprise, his eyes widening behind his glasses. After a moment, he cleared his throat. “Is that what you like?”
I shifted my weight, fighting the urge to cover my glistening dick with my hands. “I mean, normally I prefer to top, but yeah… sometimes.”
With Maxwell, the idea felt right in a way it rarely did with others.
There was something in the careful way he touched me that made me want to surrender completely.
The thought of being completely vulnerable with him—of letting go of control for once and trusting someone else to hold all the spinning pieces of me together—was intoxicating.
My mind whirred for more words to say, but I couldn’t quite bring myself to articulate how safe he made me feel despite our turbulent history.
Maxwell said nothing, his expression unreadable. Tension hung heavy between us, growing more awkward with each passing second. For fuck’s sake, Rory, why did you have to go and fuck it up again? We were having a perfectly nice time—
“You fuck me, then.”
I blinked, certain I’d misheard him. “What?”
“You heard me.” Maxwell stood, adjusting his glasses with that precise little movement I’d come to recognize. And adore. “You prefer to top, so do that.”
Typical. The one time I really need him to read my mind, and he doesn’t.
Something in his tone made me narrow my eyes. “Are you trying to prove a point? That you’re so one hundred percent definitely bisexual, that you absolutely want a cock up your ass?”
“No,” he said, too quickly. “It’s just… logical.”
“Logical?” I snorted. “Have you ever even touched yourself there before?”
Maxwell pursed his lips in a way that was almost comical. “That’s irrelevant.”
“It’s extremely relevant! You can’t just decide to bottom like you’re picking what to have for lunch.” He’d said it himself—this was all very sudden for him.
“I’m trying to do what I thought you’d prefer,” he said, his voice measured and careful. “I want this to be good for you.”
“Good for me?” I threw my hands up. “This isn’t about checking boxes on some satisfaction survey. This is about what feels right for both of us.”
“And that means I can’t be… accommodating?” His eyebrow arched perfectly.
“No, it means—” I growled in frustration. “Look, Maxwell, I need your cock inside me right now, or I swear to god I’m going to die. Like, actually die. Is that what you want? My death on your conscience?”
“Fine, then!” Maxwell’s voice was edged with frustration.
“Fine!” I echoed.
My cock hadn’t deflated throughout this exchange. Not even a little bit.
Then a horrible realisation struck me. “Fuck!” I exclaimed, smacking my palm against my forehead. “We don’t have condoms!”
Maxwell blinked at me, his expression shifting to disbelief. “You didn’t bring any?”
“Why the fuck would I have brought condoms?” I gesticulated wildly. “This isn’t actually a couple’s retreat, as much as we’re pretending it is.”
“I thought you’d have some in your wallet or something.”
“Do I seem the type to be that prepared?” I asked, throwing my hands up. Not that any of mine would even fit you anyway, I resisted adding.
Maxwell’s lips quirked. “Point taken.”
“But I got tested like a month ago,” I offered, shifting my weight. “All clear.”
“A month? And you… haven’t had sex since then?” Maxwell asked, his tone carefully neutral.
I scowled, crossing my arms over my chest. “Obviously not, else I’d have said. I’m not at it with different blokes every night, you know.”
“Sorry,” Maxwell said, looking genuinely contrite. “The way you and Priya talk sometimes made me think that you… erm… enjoy a very healthy sex life.”
“Are you calling me a man-whore because I occasionally have casual sex?” I demanded, my voice rising an octave.
Maxwell’s eyes widened in horror. “Fuck, no! Look, I’m really sorry.” He ran a hand across his face, clearly mortified.
Oops. I’d probably slightly overreacted.