Chapter 11 #3
That was all Annie needed. Her hands flew to cup Max, her thumb flicking over nipples that were rapidly hardening beneath the fabric of her tank top, and when Annie pinched one gently, rolling it between her thumb and forefinger, the sound that left Max delighted her.
Max moaned, low in the back of her throat, “Y-yes,” as she pushed her hips back into Annie, arching her back against her, thrusting more of her chest into Annie’s grip. And she was ready for it.
Her lips found the back of Max’s neck as she ran her tongue over exposed skin, enjoying the way Max shuddered and groaned under her touch, rocking against her with every squeeze, every tug, and every pinch.
“That feels amazing,” Max panted as Annie played with her nipple.
“Do you know how hard it was for me to control myself when we kissed in your kitchen?” she breathed into Max’s ear. “When you took off your sweatshirt, and you were wearing this tank top and no bra.”
Max groaned again as Annie squeezed her. “Ohh, mmhmm.”
“And now”—she pinched again, harder this time, Max’s sharp inhale rewarding her—“now I think you knew that, because here you are, in this damn tank top again, and I can’t keep my hands off you.”
Desperate hands reached for Max’s shoulders as Annie rolled her over so Max was lying on her back, looking up at her with dark, intense pupils, chest heaving as she traced her hand along Annie’s jaw.
Annie caught her hand, kissing each finger one by one, pinning Max’s wrist above her head, her chest barely skimming over Max’s as she leaned down to take a fabric-covered nipple into her mouth.
“Ann—mmh—fu—” Max shifted beneath her while Annie’s tongue looped wet, lazy circles around and around the hardened mound she had craved for weeks. She pulled back, a tendril of her saliva connecting her mouth to the wet patch on Max’s tanktop, her nipple erect and waiting.
Max’s fingers held the back of her head as Annie latched onto the nipple that was still dry, but begging for attention. Her mouth made quick work while her hands explored Max’s torso, trailing down her body, fingertips pressing into Max’s hips, rolling against her in search of more.
“There’s something about how you squirm for me,” Annie said, her words low and drawn out as she threw a leg over Max, straddling her hips. Max looked up at her with wonder in her eyes, dark hair fanned out across her pillow in every direction. “Like you want me so badly.”
A grin stretched across Max’s angular features. “I’ve wanted you for months,” she whispered.
Annie could listen to those five words on repeat for the rest of her life. To be wanted was one thing; to feel wanted was another thing entirely. Max made her feel wanted—made her feel desired.
She surged forward, mouth meeting Max’s in a flash of heat as hands cupped jaws and grabbed at bodies, each of them trying to draw the other closer.
Annie’s hands found the hem of Max’s tank top, pushing the garment up, wanting it off, wanting to see all of Max.
Hands—hers or Max’s, she wasn’t entirely sure—peeled the tank top away and Annie looked down in awe of the body beneath her—a runner’s build.
Long, slender limbs packed with hidden muscle and absolutely stunning.
But surprise that left her mouth in the form of a gasp when it was Max who pressed her fingers to Annie’s heat, rubbing her through the fabric of her shorts.
“M-m-ax.” Her voice shook as Max’s fingers pressed harder against her.
Max’s words were pleased as her fingers danced along the waistband of Annie’s shorts. “Sounds like you want me too.” She hooked her fingers into the elastic waist, snapping it playfully, only making Annie jump.
She nodded frantically, wanting nothing more than to feel Max inside of her. “I want you.” She reached for Max’s hand, urging her to continue the movements she had started.
“Straddle my leg,” Max instructed, guiding Annie’s hips until she was positioned over her left thigh, her hand resting exactly where Annie lowered herself, heat meeting Max’s touch accompanied by a long moan.
She rocked her hips, desperate for as much friction as she could get, but it wasn’t enough.
“More, please,” she whined.
Max obliged, pushing the fabric of Annie’s shorts aside, fingers meeting her damp heat and want and desire all for her. “Fuck. I love that,” she groaned, her pleased and cocky tone making Annie smile as she nearly lost her mind at the sensation of Max touching her.
Max pushed two long, delicate fingers through her lips, coating them with her wetness, and fuck, it felt so, so, so good.
Annie bent forward, folding herself over Max’s frame, chasing her touch with her hips, embarrassed by how desperate she must seem right now, her body responding like this to the most basic of touches like she’d been starved of it for years.
“Can you come like this?” Max whispered in her ear, her other hand clutching Annie’s shoulder.
Come. Annie hadn’t come in months. Not since August. Not since before the business trip that blew up her life. Not since Caroline.
Max’s fingers kept moving against her, but a single word spun on a loop through her mind again and again and again.
Boring.