Chapter Twenty-Eight Gemma #2
A smirk tips his lips, and he pulls his trousers down. The sharp V between his hip bones points to his hard, beefy cock, standing proud between his powerful legs. The man looks like he’s been carved from marble, and he bloody well knows it.
He fists his length, stroking himself slowly as he watches me watching him. He swallows hard, his eyes never leaving mine.
I’ve seen men touch themselves countless times and it’s never fazed me, but the way Max looks as he works himself over is an entirely new experience. It’s pornographic.
“Come here,” he says, and I scoot to the edge of the bed, spreading my legs slightly so he can see my glistening pussy.
“Do you want this?” he asks, glancing at his cock, his tone serious.
“Obviously,” I reply.
“Then suck it.”
My hand replaces his as I take him deep into my mouth. I continue to pump him; then, using my other hand, I fondle his balls.
“Gemma…” He groans his approval as I tap his cock at the back of my throat. I relax my mouth and breathe through my nose like the champion I am.
His hands thread through my hair and he really lets me have it. He pistons his hips, fucking my mouth. I push myself to my limits, determined not to back down, even as I gag and my eyes water. Watching Max come undone sends a rush of adrenaline through me.
“Fuck, you’re too good at that,” he grunts.
“I know,” I murmur around him.
His jaw tenses. “The only place I’m coming tonight is inside you.”
Holy. Shit.
He gently pulls me off him and I wipe my mouth, unable to stop the smug smile that spreads across my face.
“On your back,” he says.
I make a show of shimmying up the bed, spreading my legs for him once I’m in place.
The mattress dips beneath his weight as he joins me, dropping a soft kiss to the inside of my knee. Then the other. Softly. Slowly. He scatters kisses along my inner thighs, lavishing attention on my skin. He takes his time, building my need until I’m brimming with anticipation.
“You don’t get to do what you just did and think I’m not going to return the favor,” he murmurs against me. “I intend to worship you properly.”
I suck in a breath at both his words and the first contact of his mouth on my center.
My hips rise, seeking more pressure. His strong hands grip my thighs, holding me still as he begins to feast. He starts off with long, firm languid licks from my entrance to my clit, stopping and circling my swollen nub.
Max knows what he’s doing. Too well.
He groans against me, as if I’m the only thing that’ll ever satisfy him again. I gasp, white-knuckling the sheets as he alternates between open-mouthed kisses and sharper, methodical flicks of his tongue that make my thighs quiver.
“Max,” I moan, threading my fingers through his hair to hold him in place. I cling to him, certain that if I let go, I’ll float away.
He slips a hand from my thigh to grasp my waist, anchoring me. His tongue flattens and runs over my clit before sucking, gently at first, then rougher.
My back arches as a strangled whimper rips from my throat.
The ceiling above me blurs as my eyes lose focus, stars dotting my vision.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” he murmurs against me. “I want to hear you.”
Releasing my waist, he teases my entrance with two fingers, adding to the sensation. Slowly, he sinks inside me until he’s knuckle deep, his hand working in tandem with his tongue—licking, nipping, sucking, and rubbing.
I feel pressure building, like a coil tightening, signaling I’m getting close.
“Ah. Yes. More,” I moan.
My legs tremble uncontrollably and my breath saws in and out of me as I finally give up the fight.
His fingers stretch me while he teases my clit. His stubble rubs against me as he works, and I silently pray that he leaves a mark.
A gush of wetness spills out of my pussy, slicking his hand as I clench around his thick fingers, my body shuddering through the aftershocks.
Max doesn’t pull away. If anything, he works me through it, continuing his ministrations.
His fingers stroke though my folds, drive into me and curl deep, rubbing my G-spot.
Finally, he lifts his head. His thumb replaces his tongue.
The intensity in his eyes is pure, filthy pride as he watches me unspool, his gaze latched on mine like he never wants to forget the way I look when I fall apart for him.
“That’s it,” he says, his voice low and hoarse. “Look at you. So beautiful when you come.”
He leans in, pressing a kiss just below my navel while his fingers still move inside me, pumping over and over. He licks a long line up my stomach.
“You’re dripping for me, Gem. Can feel you pulsing around my fingers. Can’t wait to feel you do that on my cock.”
His words spur me on, prolonging the euphoric sensation.
Part of me wants to hold back and not give him the satisfaction of making me orgasm so quickly.
But another part—namely, my vagina—couldn’t stop if my life depended on it.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I register that I’m shouting his name over and over, like he’s my salvation.
My body finally stills. My legs are jelly, a sheen of sweat coating both of us.
What the hell was that? Last time was incredible, but this… this was another level.
His hand slides out of me, and he watches me closely as he sucks his glistening fingers clean.
“That’s one,” he says. “I’m not finished with you yet.”
Thank. Fuck.
Usually this is the part where I gather my belongings and my pride, make a swift exit, and pull some tarot cards once I’m home.
Leave before they want cuddles, cleanse myself of their energy, move on to the next.
But tonight is new. The raw desire in his eyes is gravitational. Against every morsel of my being, I find myself wanting him, needing him again.
Regardless of how hesitant I was to agree to our little arrangement, I’m forced to admit that Max Browne isn’t someone I can get out of my system with a few sexual encounters.
And—shit—it’s starting to feel like Anna might not be the only thing I need to worry about.
It doesn’t feel like Max is simply spreading my legs anymore. Instead, he’s thawing out the part of me that’s been frozen for a long time. The part of me I locked up tight, sealed off by years of keeping men at arm’s length.
I might have set the condition that Max doesn’t fall in love with me—but I didn’t say anything about what happens if I feel something for him.
And I definitely didn’t account for the idea that this arrangement could screw me over.
Max kisses his way up my body, dragging that perfect mouth along my stomach, over my breasts, until he’s hovering above me.
He rubs his cock through my sensitive folds as his forearms cage my head.
I rock my hips, his cock sliding through the mess between my legs like it was made to fit there.
He groans, moving in sync with me. I watch the way his abs tense and flex.
My eyes dip lower to where his cock lies thick and heavy, coated with my arousal.
“Are you good?” He breathes, brushing a knuckle over my jaw.
“Great,” I whimper.
His lips curl in a satisfied smirk.
“Just so you know, we aren’t cuddling,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
He laughs, a deep rumble. “We haven’t even started yet.”
My stomach flips and swells. Before he can say another word, I push him onto his back, swinging my leg over his hips in one fluid motion.
His eyes darken to midnight as I settle atop his cock, his hard length pressed against me.
I plant my palms on his muscular chest, feeling his heartbeat thundering beneath my hands as I continue to grind against him.
“My turn?” I ask, my voice husky.
He reaches around to squeeze my arse, making me gasp. “I want you so badly.”
“Condoms?” My body screams to feel him inside me.
He strokes his hands up and down my thighs. “I will if you want me to. But I want you to know—I’m clean. I get tested every month.”
“That’s very responsible of you,” I say. “But unfortunately, I’m not on birth control.”
His lips curve into something dangerously smug. “I’ve had a vasectomy.”
My brain short-circuits.
Oh. My. God.
His beautiful words suck the air out of my lungs. I’m hit with such an enormous wave of happiness, I think I might cry. Those words aren’t just music to my ears; they’re the whole damn symphony.
“That might be the sexiest sentence ever spoken,” I say.
His gaze is as penetrating as it is torturous. His next command severs the thin tether I was clinging on to.
“Ride me.”