Chapter Sixty-Nine Gemma
Chapter Sixty-Nine
Gemma
“Sorry sweetheart, but we need to make a quick stop at the hotel first. I just remembered something,” Max says, his arm slung around my shoulder.
He quickly fires off the hotel address to the cab driver.
My brows furrow. “You’ve only just remembered now? I thought we were going back to mine to… you know…”
He smiles. “It’ll be quick. Trust me.” He takes my hand and gives it a gentle squeeze.
I lift my brows in surprise, but I don’t argue.
Ten minutes later, we’re pulling up to Gray Hotel.
Max pays the driver and gets out, offering me his hand as I try to—somewhat gracefully—step out of the cab.
The doorman beams at us. “Good morning, sir, madam. Welcome to Gray Hotel.”
“Good morning,” Max replies.
Threading his fingers through mine, he leads me through the grand entrance into the buzzing foyer. I take in the scene: reception checking in guests, concierge busy on phone calls, bellmen helping with bags, taxis pulling up outside—when my gaze lands on—
I stop dead. Blink once. Twice. My heart lurches.
I turn and smack his chest. “How? I thought…”
Beside me, Max chuckles. The cheeky bastard.
My throat tightens and tears spring to my eyes.
I can’t believe he did this. For me.
Max slides his hands into his trouser pockets, leaning in close. His breath tickles my ear, sending warmth down my spine. “Go and get your coffee.”
I step forward, joining the busy queue. My face lighting up the moment the barista spots me.
“Morning, lass!” he booms.
A tear slides down my cheek as I whisper back, “Hi Lance.”
I didn’t want yesterday to end. After catching up with Lance, the proud new owner of the Gray Hotel Coffee Cart, we spent the rest of the day and evening in bed, tracing and tasting every inch of each other.
And now, I wake to the feel of Max’s hard length pressed to my arse.
I smile, arching my back, rubbing against him.
“Open your legs for me, sweetheart,” he instructs.
I obey, exposing more of myself for him. I’m already impossibly wet and ravenous. Tilting my head, he captures my lips, and I sink into the feel of him. His thick thighs, strong shoulders, and chiseled stomach. Craving more, I turn in his hold.
He cups my heat, running his fingers through my mess.
“What do you need?” he asks.
“I want you to fill me,” I breathe.
“Yeah?” His fingers glide lazily through my pussy, lapping tight circles over my clit.
“Where do you want me to fill you?” He starts teasing my entrance with two fingers.
“Here?” He thrusts his fingers inside me slowly before pulling them out and running them down to the hole between my cheeks.
He smears my wetness over my arsehole. “Or here?”
A moan slips out. “Both,” I say, dusting my thumb over his crown, spreading the pre-cum through his slit.
I grip him firmly, pumping a long, firm stroke up and down his shaft. He exhales shakily and I smile against his mouth.
He drives his fingers into me, scissoring and spreading me open until I’m soaked. We continue this way, working each other up with our hands before decreasing our pace, testing and teasing.
“Top drawer. Bedside table,” I pant.
He breaks the kiss, reaching over and opening the drawer to peer inside. The moment he sees the contents of my bedside table, he smirks.
His muscles shift as he pulls out my eight-inch dildo and a bottle of lube. With a wicked glint in his eyes, he drops both items beside me.
“Get on all fours,” he says.
I don’t waste time, scrambling to my hands and knees.
He settles behind me, stroking each cheek and smoothing his hand up and down my spine.
He snakes an arm around me, pulling me up on my knees so my back is flush to his chest. He’s warm and strong, wrapping an arm around my stomach to keep me in place.
A heat stirs in my belly as the hand holding me slides down to my clit, and I gasp.
His other hand gets to work kneading my breast, pinching and pulling my nipple until I’m rolling my body into his, sinking against him.
“Are you ready?” he asks, his lips on my shoulder.
I nod. He drops his hand from my breast, rubbing his erection through my pussy, coating himself.
I fold my arm back and around his neck, pinning him close.
Slowly, he pushes inside me, sheathing himself.
We groan in unison as he begins to move and I rock into him, my hips slamming down as he thrusts up. The room echoes with every slick, filthy connection of our skin.
I widen my knees, granting him better access.
“Fuck, Gemma,” he growls, plunging into me so deep I swear I can feel him in my throat.
I cry out as he grips my hips, slamming into me.
“Is this mine?” he pants.
“Yes,” I gasp. “It’s all yours, Max.”
“That’s right,” he says, his voice all smoke and heat.
He drops a hand, and I hear the distinct click of a plastic cap right before a drizzle of cool liquid trickles through my crack. He rubs the lube over my arsehole.
“I’m gonna get you ready here, okay, sweetheart?”
I nod, whimpering and moaning, my body begging to be stuffed full of him.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” he grunts. “I fucked you all day and night and I still need you. So. Fucking. Bad.” He punctuates his last three words with a thrust, jamming into me until I see stars.
“More, Max,” I cry.
A finger pushes into my arse.
He perfects an alternating rhythm, moving his cock and finger in tandem.
I relax into the feel of him, coaxing me open.
He slides his finger out, rubbing circles around my hole before plunging back in.
He understands exactly what I need, reading my body as if it’s written in a language only he speaks.
“I’m going to stretch you open,” he declares. “And then I’m gonna fuck both your holes.”
“Please…” I sigh.
He adds a second finger to my arse, working me open with thick, slick circles until I’m shaking.
My pussy strangles his cock.
“So damn tight,” he grits out. “So perfect.”
I don’t respond because I can’t. I’m lost in oblivion as he pushes me closer to the edge.
“I’ll come like this,” I breathe.
He bites my shoulder. “Yeah?”
I nod frantically and he speeds up his movements. “Come for me,” he says, and I lose control, coming apart all over his cock and fingers. I bear down, riding out the wave as long as I possibly can. My body trembles and convulses as he tapers back, prolonging my pleasure.
When the stars dissipate and I come back down, he pulls out and I whimper at the loss, the emptiness so profound. Dropping down to my elbows, I press my cheek to the bed, gripping the sheets as I anticipate more.
“I’m gonna fuck your arse with my cock and your pussy with the dildo now,” he says.
I nod.
I hear the slick glide of lube and the low curse he lets out as he coats his dick, getting it ready for me.
“Breathe for me, baby,” he soothes, and I do. “Show me how deep you can take it.”
And then he’s there, the dildo notching my pussy and his cock brushing my arsehole. He’s patient and slow, breaching me inch by inch at the same time until I’m so incredibly full.
My mouth drops open and a broken moan escapes me. My thighs tremble, every nerve set alight. He’s buried to the hilt. My hand curls underneath me, down to my core, and I hold his hand with the dildo in place.
“I want to do it,” I pant.
He bends forward, planting a kiss to my back before giving the dildo up and gripping my waist.
I’m overcome with emotion—with the realization that Max not only makes it his mission to satisfy me completely but to listen to what I crave.
Then, finally, we move. He works my arse over, matching the rhythm of his cock to the dildo.
“You like that?” he grits out. “Having every tight hole stuffed?”
I nod as he plows into me, over and over.
I can’t speak; I just move.
He snarls, snapping his hips harder, and I scream his name, needing the burn so badly. His hands go to my buttocks, kneading and squeezing as he hauls me into his thrusts.
My tits bounce and the headboard bangs against the wall. I’m sure the whole building can hear every depraved and sinful noise we’re making, but I don’t have it in me to care.
Let them hear.
Let the world know that this man owns me.
“So—so good,” I manage, my voice wobbly.
I’m barely holding it together as he fucks into me at a bruising pace. My pussy sucks the dildo inside me as I grind, and I feel my muscles tighten—that telltale flutter of an orgasm already building again.
“I won’t last much longer,” he growls.
This is my favorite part, when he can no longer hold back. My stomach flutters with pride knowing that I can strip away all his composure and drive him to the edge.
“I’m s—so close,” I say.
“I’m going to come in this arse,” he says, sinking his fingers into my soft flesh.
“Max,” I murmur brokenly.
“Gemma!”
He chokes out my name. I detonate at the same time as he roars, his thickness swelling and spilling his heat inside me. I clench around him and he doesn’t relent, thundering into me. This is it. This is nirvana.
Blackness clouds my vision just as he finishes and my body slumps, completely spent. My arse overflows with him, oozing down my thigh.
Finally, when we collapse together, he gathers me in his arms, breathing hard. He presses his lips to my forehead tenderly.
“I love you,” he whispers, nudging my nose with his.
My eyes shine with affection as I take him in. All of him, flushed and gorgeous in his afterglow.
I used to think that letting someone in led to loss of control.
But as I stare into Max’s kind eyes, I realize now that running from love meant running from myself.
Maybe we’ll mess it up. Maybe we won’t. But at least he’s shown me that true love stays.
That it isn’t conditional or judgmental.
It doesn’t require you to be perfect or have everything figured out.
It doesn’t see your chipped edges and reject you.
It exposes your most vulnerable parts and nurtures them.
It doesn’t ask anything more than to trust. It doesn’t ask you to be someone else. It just is.
This man has earned my heart, and I’m finally ready to hand it over.
“I love you too.”