Chapter 18 #2
I settled on the grip of his fist and the thick rod of flesh wedged in his grip. My lips fell apart as I took him in. The dusting of dark hair at the root. The veins that distend around his thick girth. The blunt, purple tip protruding from his hand, a bead of creamy wet pooling at the slit there.
“Show me how wet this makes you.”
My eyes snapped up like they’d been caught in a cookie jar. Or a cock stare.
Had he—
“Put your feet up on the edge of the counter and spread them wide.”
I hadn’t misheard him.
My fingers unclenched from where they held my dress. I drew my right leg up first and then my left, feeling the fabric of my dress slide down my legs, but my stomach kept it pooled between them, obscuring his view.
Max looked feral, his gaze incinerating every inch of skin it raked over. “Move your dress, Daisy. Show me how wet you are.”
Swallowing over the balloon in my throat, I kept my eyes on his expression as I pressed my hands below my stomach and slowly peeled my dress up, baring myself to his hungry stare.
I shivered, feeling the damp air on my bare, slick sex. I was so exposed, so vulnerable, but I didn’t feel that way when I looked at him. When I saw the way Max looked at me, the only thing I truly felt was powerful.
He pushed open the shower door slowly as though any swift movement would shatter the fragile armor of control he clung to. His nostrils flared at the clear sight he had of me spread wide in front of him.
“Fuck, that’s a pretty pussy, Daze, all pink and puffy and wet because of me.” Max’s low voice felt like warm sugar on my skin, but the way he stared…it was like pure fire injected into my veins.
He gripped one side of the shower opening. Maybe it was the water, but it looked like his fingers dented where they pressed into the glass.
My breathing marched without care or rhythm into my lungs, my breasts straining against the fabric of my chest, my nipples aching to be exposed to his gaze too.
My hands slid from my stomach to grip my knees, and my head tipped back against the wall, a restlessness starting to claim me.
I didn’t just want to watch. I wanted him.
I wanted him to make this ache—this craving I had for him—go away.
“Talk to me, Daisy,” he commanded, his irises staked to me like shards of steel. And the way he fisted himself was nothing short of suffocating as he began pumping his cock again. Harder. Faster. “Tell me what you want.”
“You,” I breathed. “I want you, Max. Please.”
Something between a snarl and a growl steamed from the shower.
“Touch your clit, Daisy. Show me what you want me to be doing to you.”
I was too hormonal—too horny—to be embarrassed by the speed with which my right hand dropped between my legs, my middle finger centering on the tight bundle of nerves that screamed for attention.
The first stroke rained fireworks over my skin.
I’d been desperate for this relief for weeks, but never seemed to find it on my own.
No matter how much I ached. No matter how many dreams I had about Max.
I could never relax enough to orgasm, as though my mind was stuck in fight or flight, too stressed to be vulnerable even to self-pleasure.
“That’s it, baby. Rub that needy clit hard. You’re so swollen and wet. So fucking needy.”
I shook my head, shallow breaths shuttling in and out of my lungs, as my body chased its pleasure. No, not chased. Followed Max’s lead, knowing he’d take care of me. Trusting him to take care of me.
“Stop.”
My eyes snapped wide, oxygen glugging through my lips. Stop? I didn’t want to stop. I didn’t think I could stop.
“Stop biting your lip, Daze,” Max clarified huskily. “I want to hear every needy moan. Every messy sound.”
A whimper broke from my throat in relief, and my fingers redoubled their efforts on my clit.
“Good girl.” A sound of raw appreciation filtered through the bathroom as I continued to pleasure myself. “God, I could watch you do this all day. Touching yourself to my command. Do you like to obey, Daisy?” His voice sounded cut from stone.
My throat worked. “I…I don’t know.”
I liked this—whatever it was. But before this—before him—I wouldn’t have answered yes.
“Do you like to obey me?”
I sucked in a breath.
“Because your pussy sure looks like you do,” he continued with a dark chuckle. “I wish you could see what you look like right now. Like a drenched fucking flower that all I want to do is bury my face in.”
“Max,” I panted, my back arching into his words that at this point felt like a physical caress. “Please.”
“Please, what?”
My brain was mush. A muddy, murky mess of pleasure and ache, and the only thing that was clear was the low tenor of his voice. My gaze ebbed back to him, taking a moment to settle firmly on his gorgeous face.
“More,” I begged breathlessly.
“Use your other hand and push a finger inside your cunt,” he commanded, so cool and confident despite his own desire tearing him apart at the seams even as he tried to ignore it.
My left hand slid down my inner thigh, my feet inching wider to make space for both my arms and my stomach. I moaned when I felt how wet I was, my finger dipping easily into my entrance.
“Wait.”
I stilled.
“Not that finger,” he clipped, his voice etched in stone. “The one with his ring.”
My jaw dropped open further. I had no idea where this was going, but god, did I want to go there. I wanted to go wherever that possessive look in his eyes promised to take me.
And so I curled my index finger back and teased my opening with the tip of my ring finger.
“Push the whole finger inside your pussy. I want his ring buried in your cunt when you scream my name,” Max growled, his hands so tense on the glass, I was shocked it hadn’t shattered. Maybe it was bulletproof.
My head tipped back against the vanity mirror, my eyes instantly growing hooded as I flicked over the swollen bundle of nerves, every single one aching to come.
My gasp turned into a choked breath as my finger pushed through my tight, begging muscles.
I was so wet, so soaked already, my finger slid in easily, Todd’s ring included.
It should feel wrong, the hard stone in my core.
I should feel wrong, obeying my ex-fiancé’s best friend as he instructed me toward an orgasm and desecrated my former engagement ring.
But wrong was the farthest thing from what I felt as my body clenched and trembled.
Wrong was the farthest thing I felt when I obeyed my husband’s orders.
“Fuck yes,” Max growled. “I hate seeing his ring on you, especially now, but even then.”
Even then. He meant before Todd abandoned me. Before he had a good reason to hate it. Before, he simply coveted his best friend’s girl.
I forced my eyes open. Forced them to focus on the man barking salacious orders at me from the cell of his shower.
Now, Max was no longer as still as a statue.
His eyes were locked on my pussy. On my finger, pumping in and out, coating Todd’s ring in my desire for him.
For Max. But his hands were no longer on the glass.
In the moments when my eyes had shut in pleasure, he’d grabbed my thong from the floor and wrapped it around his cock. Now, he wasn’t pumping into his hand, but into my drenched underwear.
My core clenched wildly on my finger, and I knew my desire was dripping onto the counter.
“That’s it, Daze. Don’t stop working that clit,” he encouraged roughly, his own movements slowing as all his focus went to me. “Show me how beautiful you are when you come.”
“I can’t,” I whimpered breathlessly, my head thrashing to the side.
“You can,” he growled, both palms on the glass now, his cock bobbing heavy and frustratingly forgotten in front of him. “Show me how bad you want it. How bad you want me, baby.”
Need spiraled through me and erupted in my core. I wanted to obey him. The more he talked, the more I wanted to obey. His words made me more aroused, and I felt desire gush against my finger and run onto the counter.
“Fuck yourself with that finger like it’s my cock inside you. Like I haven’t been the only one imagining fucking you all these years.”
“Max…” An emotion stronger than pleasure tore through my chest. A longing I’d buried for years, hoping it would die, and a hope I never thought to harbor, hearing he’d felt the same.
My fingers swirled and shunted in a faster rhythm, chasing my release. Chasing my pleasure. Chasing his commands.
“Show me that I’m not the only one who’d wished it wasn’t Todd next to you in bed every night. Touching you. Tasting you. Filling up that perfect pussy and making you beg for more.”
My ragged breaths crashed to a halt.
“Oh god.” A cry exploded from my chest, along with every deep, dark fantasy I’d buried inside me.
Never would I have admitted those thoughts out loud.
Even now, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to form the confession through my lips that I’d wished it more times than I could count.
But he didn’t ask me to say it. He knew I couldn’t.
Just like he knew my body would willingly show him.
“Yes, Max. Yes,” I chanted as I careened straight toward the edge of release, my hips lifting off the counter to meet my hand, the collision making a wet, slapping noise against my core.
“Look at me, Daze,” Max growled one last command, and his glittering gaze was suddenly the only thing I could see as the periphery of my vision turned fuzzy. “Come all over that ring and show me who you really belong to.”
His possession should’ve shocked me. Worried me at the very least. But with my head cleared of everything except how I wanted him, I could only admit that I did belong to him. And had wanted to for a long time now.
The out-of-reach ache suddenly hit me head-on and catapulted me over the edge. “Yes. Oh god. Yes—Max!”
I screamed as my orgasm ripped through me.
Darkness stole my vision as my body bucked with wild release.
My core squeezed and gushed around my finger.
Weeks of pent-up want, years of buried longing overloaded my senses until I was sure the intense rush of pleasure had fried every nerve ending, rewiring each one with only my need for him.
“That’s it, baby.” His low praise filtered back in through the fugue. “You did so good. You were so beautiful.”
I blinked until my vision sharpened, until what was clear was that Max had brought me my release but had held back his own.
Carefully, I slid my hands away from my core and let my legs drape over the edge of the counter one at a time. He watched me, and I wondered what he was waiting for—why he was torturing himself?
Was he not going to let me see him? Was he going to make me leave before he finished?
My racing heart stumbled to its knees in my chest. “Max—”
“Come here,” he interrupted. He sounded like a piece of metal about to snap, all twisted and strained, too brittle to bend.
I lowered my feet to the floor. My palms clung to the edge of the counter, feeling how badly my legs trembled. I wanted to sink into a puddle, but I needed to go to him. Needed to obey. Needed to know. And if I couldn’t walk, then I’d crawl.
Miraculously, I could walk. One unsteady step in front of the other for the short few paces it took to put me right in front of him.
Pump. Pump. Pump.
My eyes flicked down, watching beads of creamy moisture pool from the tip of his cock and then run down the blunt head to be caught in my bunched underwear. The close-up made my body sizzle with ache all over again.
“Put your finger in my mouth.”
My gaze snapped to his with a sharp breath. I didn’t need to ask which finger he was talking about.
“Let me taste how sweet you are,” he growled. “Let me taste how much you want me.”
I lifted my left hand, my eyes never leaving his as I pressed the tip of my ring finger to his hard lips.
With a deep, chest-breaking groan, his mouth parted and drew my finger inside.
His tongue coaxed it deeper and licked it clean at the same time.
As much as I wanted to stare at the beautiful etch of pleasure over his face, I couldn’t help the way my head lowered to his cock.
He jerked it fast now. Rough and hard and unrelenting. I watched the flesh thicken and the veins swell. The drips of pre-cum spilled faster, and then Max’s lips coasted over my ring, and his teeth clamped down firmly on the flesh on the other side.
I gasped, pain and pleasure spiraling straight to my core. Max sucked hard, and his hips jerked violently. A strangled sound erupted against my digit as he pumped himself one last time, dragging my thong over the head of his cock as he came into the fabric.
All I could do was stare as the fabric filled and filled and filled with his release before spilling cum onto the shower floor.
Never had I experienced anything this hot. And Max hadn’t even touched me. Not until the very end.
His teeth released my finger, and it slipped languidly back through his lips, which gave one final tug on the tip before freeing my hand.
“So fucking sweet, Daze,” he rumbled, dark irises fringed with something painful. “You taste like blueberries to me.”
My heart stumbled over each one of its next several beats. Max didn’t mean literal blueberries. He meant a craving he couldn’t quench. A craving he’d been starved of until now.
I went to reach for him, too overwhelmed from…everything to be able to speak, but he stepped back. All the way back to the other side of the water spray, and my heart plummeted into my stomach.
“You should go to bed, Daze,” Max rasped, dragging his free hand roughly through his wet hair.
Was that regret in his voice? My throat tightened. “Max—”
“It’s late. We’ll talk tomorrow,” he insisted, and I was too overwhelmed, too wrung out to press.
“Okay. Good night,” I murmured and walked out of the bathroom.
He’d just confessed to wanting me for years, and I…I had done the same. The admission started a war inside me. Longing fighting guilt. Desire fighting self-preservation. We were married. I wanted him. My husband. Desperately. I was also having another man’s baby.
The convoluted web of my life was hard enough to process on a good day, and utterly impossible to untangle when I could hardly even stand straight.
How long had he felt this way? The questions started to pump into my mind like the slow and steady pound of my pulse. How long had he wanted me?
How would all of this have been different had he just told me sooner?