Chapter 37 #2
I tug at his T-shirt, desperate to feel his skin, and he helps, pulling it off, revealing the hard lines of his chest. My hands explore, fingers tracing the ridges of muscle, the faint scars from years I wasn’t part of, and he shudders, a low groan escaping as I press my lips to his collarbone, tasting the salt of his skin.
His jeans follow, the denim sliding down.
He steps out of them, and his briefs are tight, outlining the hard length of him, a sight that makes my mouth dry.
We move to the bed, the sheets cool under my knees as I kneel, pulling him down with me.
His hands are quick and efficient, unclasping my bra in a single, expert move.
My breasts pop out. His lips find my nipple, sucking softly, his tongue swirling.
A soft whimper spills out of me, and my hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer.
“Ahhhh…” The sensation is electric, pleasure sparking through me. I arch into him, needing more, needing him. He kisses his way down, lips brushing my ribs, the dip of my navel, each touch a worship, and my moans grow, soft but desperate, filling the quiet room.
His fingers hook into my panties and he slides them down. He spreads my legs wide and kneels between them. His breath is warm against my core, and I tremble, anticipation coiling tight.
“It’s not my turn again, is it?” I whisper.
“It’s always your turn because eating your pussy always feels like it’s my turn again.”
His eyes meet mine, dark with love, with hunger.
Then his mouth covers my pussy, his tongue slow, deliberate, tasting my wetness.
I moan, loud, raw, my hands fisting the pillow, my body arching into a taut bow.
His tongue circles my clit, teasing, then sucking gently, drawing out every shudder, every cry until I’m lost. Relentless.
He is relentless. His lips are soft, his tongue deep.
Pleasure floods me, sweet and overwhelming.
My moans rise, trembling, and I bite my lip, trying to muffle them, thinking of Jason down the hall, but it’s hard, so hard, with Max’s mouth on me, his hands gripping my hips, holding me steady.
“Shhhhh,” he warns, his voice vibrating against me.
My hand flies up to my mouth, stifling the cry as he sucks harder, his tongue flicking fast, driving me higher.
The pleasure coils, tight, searing, and I shatter, my orgasm crashing through me, my body jerking helplessly.
But he doesn’t stop, licking me through the aftershocks, his mouth gentle, soothing, drinking me in until I’m spent, panting, my limbs heavy, liquid.
Only then does he rise. His lips are glistening, his eyes dark with need.
I reach for him, and pull him down on me, needing his weight, his warmth.
His cock is hard, pulsing, and I stroke him, feeling him throb in my hand.
I guide him to me, my legs parting, inviting, and he enters me.
The stretch is exquisite, filling me completely, and he swears.
“Fuck!” The sound is raw and primal.
His thrusts are gentle, deliberate, each one a sweet, deep press that sparks pleasure through every nerve. My hands roam his back, nails grazing his skin, feeling the tension in his muscles, the sweat slicking him.
His rhythm shifts, deeper, each thrust full of passion, his hips grinding, drawing out every sensation.
I open my mouth to cry out, and he kisses me, his lips swallowing my cry.
I taste myself on his tongue. His hands cradle my face, thumbs brushing my cheeks, and his eyes hold mine, blue and tempestuous, filled with an emotion so fierce it breaks me.
“I love you,” he murmurs, voice rough, trembling.
I nod, tears pricking my eyes, my heart too full to speak.
The thought hits me, sudden, reckless. I haven’t taken my birth control pill today.
I could skip it, let this moment, let this love take root, a piece of Max to carry forever.
The idea is wild, dangerous, but I’ve considered it and I’m ready for it.
A child with his eyes, his heart, to love even when this stolen interlude ends.
I shut my eyes, letting the thought settle, a quiet decision that feels like a vow.
Yes. That’s it. I will pray for a child.
My body arches, meeting his thrusts, and the pleasure builds again, a slow, burning wave. His hand slides between us, fingers finding my clit, stroking soft, matching his rhythm, and I’m trembling.
I gasp, voice breaking, my hands clutching his shoulders, nails digging in, anchoring me to him. He thrusts deeper, harder, his cock pulsing, filling me with his seed. My muscles tighten around his cock. It is both pleasure and love.
Perhaps it will be enough to make a child.
My eyes stay shut, but tears slip free. Not from sadness but from the perfection of this moment. The heaven of his body inside mine, his love wrapping around me, his seed deep in my womb.
The pleasure suddenly and unexpectedly crests again, a searing wave, and I climax for a second time. My body quivering, my mouth pressed hard against his neck to keep quiet.
We stay tangled together, his face buried in my hair, our chests heaving. His arms tighten around me, fierce and protective, and I cling to him. The room is quiet, the moonlight silvering his skin.
This must be what heaven is, nothing but pure love.