CHAPTER TWELVE
Max
She tasted like honey and the kind of trouble I’d been begging for since the first time I saw her leaning over a bin of galvanized nails.
I stayed between her legs for a long, heavy minute after she shattered, the taste of her still on my lips, the scent of her climax filling my lungs until I was lightheaded with it.
Her thighs were still trembling against my shoulders, her ivory skin flushed a deep, beautiful pink. She looked thoroughly wrecked.
I moved up her body, my muscles bunched and tight, my skin feeling like it was three sizes too small for the sheer volume of blood rushing to my cock. I didn’t wipe her taste from my mouth. I wanted her to taste herself on my lips.
“Max,” she whimpered, her hands reaching out blindly.
“I’m done waiting, Frankie. You’ve had six months to think about this.
Now you’re going to feel it.” I didn’t give her time to think.
I settled myself between her thighs, my weight a dark shadow over her.
I didn’t ease in. I didn’t tease. I positioned the head of my cock against her soaking heat and thrust inside.
I was wide, and she was tight — so damn tight.
I continue to take her, as slowly as I could, until I was bottomed out against her womb.
The air left Frankie in a sob. Her eyes went wide as her body tried to accommodate the sheer size of me.
I froze for a second, my jaw locked, my teeth gritting so hard I thought they’d crack.
She was like a velvet vice, her internal muscles clenching around me in a frantic, desperate rhythm that nearly ended the game right there.
“You’re... so big.” Her fingers dug into my biceps, her nails drawing a few drops blood. “Max... I can’t... it’s too much.”
“It’s exactly enough,” I growled, my face inches from hers. I started to move, a slow, heavy grind as I pulled almost all the way out before slamming back in. “You’re taking every fucking inch of me, Frankie.”
“Yes, yes.” Her head thrashed against the pillows. “More. Please, Max.”
I didn’t need to be asked twice. I picked up the pace, my thrusts becoming violent and rhythmic. I leaned down, my mouth against her ear.
“You feel so fucking perfect. So tight and slick wrapped around my cock. Your pussy is gripping me like you never want to let go. Can you feel how deep I am? How I’m stretching you open?”
She let out a broken moan, her nails dragging down my back hard enough to leave marks.
“I’ve been imagining this for months,” I grunted, driving deeper, feeling every hot, wet inch of her clenching around me. “Wondering how it would feel when I finally got inside you. If you’d be this tight. This wet. This perfect.”
“Max—” she sobbed.
“Every Thursday I walked into that store,” I grunted, driving deeper, “you were thinking about this, too, weren’t you? About me bending you over that counter. About what my cock would feel like inside you. Tell me I’m right, Frankie.”
“Yes,” she sobbed. “God yes, I thought about it constantly—”
“Greedy little thing for the mountain man.” I bit down on her shoulder, not hard enough to break skin but hard enough to mark. “And I’m never going to let you go back to just being the girl at the hardware store. You’re mine now.”
The friction was explosion. I could feel her clit rubbing against the base of my cock with every stroke, her walls pulsing and clenching in a frantic rhythm that was driving me toward the cliff.
She was so wet I could hear it—the sound of my cock driving into her again and again, her body taking everything I gave her.
I was sweating, my muscles tense from the effort of not finishing too soon.
I wanted to feel her come around me first. Wanted to feel that tight, soaking grip when she shattered.
She began to shake, her internal muscles tightening into a frantic, soaking clench. She let out a broken cry as her second climax ripped through her.
Seeing her shatter was the final blow to my control.
Her pussy clamped down on me like a fist, milking my cock, and I was gone.
I let out a low, guttural roar, my body shuddering as I bottomed out inside her one final time.
My release hit like a freight train. I pinned her to the mattress with my body as I emptied myself inside her, pulse after pulse, marking her from the inside out.
I stayed there for a long time, buried deep, my weight heavy on her curves. The silence of the mountain lodge returned, but everything was different. The brooding Wilder was gone, replaced by a man who had finally found the piece of himself he’d been missing.
I pulled back just enough to look at her. She looked thoroughly taken, claimed. I pulled out of her, groaning as her body tried to keep me inside. I turned us so we were facing each other. I cupped her face in one hand. “I love you, Frankie. I think I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you.”
“Max,” she whispered.
“This, this whole wedding thing. I didn’t go along with it because I needed someone to run interference. I did because I wanted you, Frankie.”
“You mean you made me be your fake wedding date, at your ex-girlfriend’s wedding so you could get me in bed?”
I grinned down at her. “I wasn’t sure it would end like this, but yeah.”
“I should punch you like you did Leo.”
“You liked that didn’t you?”
“Yes. I just wished I’d had the nerve to do the same to Tiffany. Or at least slapped the smug expression of her face.” She smiled at me before snuggling against my chest.
“Don’t get too comfortable,” I warned.
“Why not?” she murmured, her eyes halfway closed.
“Because you haven’t said what I need to hear.”
She spread her hand over my chest. Over my heart. “Oh, what is that?”
“Do you love me, Frankie?”
She pulled my mouth down to hers and whispered against my lips. “I love you more than you know, Max Wilder.”
I moved, pressing her back against the mattress, settling myself against her once again. “Then show me.”