Chapter 29 #3
She watches him lower his mouth, then feels the first hot drag of his tongue as he laps at her silky wetness.
Her fingers immediately weave into his hair, holding him closer as his tongue traces every delicate line of her folds and bathes her clit with slow, deliberate strokes that make her toes curl.
His focus is absolute, almost punishing in its precision.
He licks, sucks, and teases her soft flesh with a practiced rhythm meant to unravel her, each movement calculated for his own enjoyment.
He listens to every soft gasp and mewl, savoring the way her grip tightens and loosens in his hair, as though she can’t decide whether to drag him closer or push him away.
There is something relentless in the way he holds her legs open, something that sends her heartbeat racing even faster than the rising pleasure. The pressure builds too quickly to control, and she feels her hips begin to buck as shockwaves of pleasure surge through her body.
She can’t hold back her cry as she comes.
“Oh god! Oh god!”
Her body convulses, every muscle jerking in a frantic frenzy as she grinds harder against his drenched face, riding the final waves of release with reckless abandon.
When her movements finally slow, he pushes himself upright.
“Shit. You were seconds from ripping my whole scalp off,” he says with a grin, running a hand through his hair.
“You kind of deserve it,” she fires back between ragged breaths, her chest heaving as her gaze locks on him. He looks devastatingly beautiful—so much so it makes her heart ache.
“Are you satisfied,” he asks heatedly, gripping his cock tight as he strikes it against her hypersensitive clit, “or do you want more?”
“More!” she whines, bracing herself as she grips the bottom edge of the desk.
Placing her legs over his broad shoulders, he sinks his thick cock into her thoroughly slickened sex.
A slow, drawn-out groan slips from her lips.
“What a tight fucking pussy you have, Ms. Thorne,” he sighs in contentment. “Always wet and ready to be fucked. It loves being fed fat fucking cocks, doesn’t it?”
“Yes! Oh my god, yes! Yes, yes, yes! It feels so good!”
“What a naughty girl. Your pussy wraps around me perfectly.”
“You like this pussy?”
The words tear out of her before she has time to think. Being with him has unleashed a side of her that’s embarrassingly raw and unfiltered—just like him.
“I fucking love it, baby. It’s fucking perfect,” he groans, the ferocity in his voice burning her shame away as he begins to thrust, settling into a brisk, punishing pace.
He wraps a hand around her neck, fingers aligning with its delicate curves.
She’s grown accustomed to his possessive touch, finding his grip less alarming now.
As always, it’s firm yet careful, applying just enough pressure to heighten intimacy rather than fear.
Soft moans slip from her lips as she places her hands over his, her eyes drifting closed.
Her snug walls grip him, creating a mind-blowing suction each time he pulls back.
He watches with dark pride curling low in his gut as she arches for him, her tight tunnel pushed to its limit to take every inch he gives her.
With one hard thrust, he buries himself as deeply as she’ll allow, scraping the deepest place inside her that aches to be touched.
She rewards him with a soft, desperate cry of his name.
“Max,” she gasps, shaking her head as he continues to ravage her. “Max, it’s too deep.”
“That’s how it should be,” he replies raggedly. “Deep. Deep. Deep inside you, baby.”
A harsh thrust punctuates each word, the head of his cock knocking against her cervix. Her broken, erotic sounds are music to his ears.
Suddenly, a brutal wave of pleasure tears through her, igniting every nerve. Her tight walls seize around him as she bucks beneath his weight, his name ripping from her throat as her legs shake out of control.
As the tingling in his lower abdomen intensifies into a heady buzz, he quickly withdraws, seconds from erupting.
She studies his lust-blown expression—jaw slack, cheeks flushed, hair clinging to his damp forehead.
“Fuck,” he rasps, chest heaving as he steps back.
She yelps in surprise as he flips her over. Balanced on the tips of her toes, breasts pressed against the cool marble beneath her, she feels his hands caress the soft mounds of her flesh.
He spreads her ass cheeks apart, exposing her tight holes to him. Slowly, deliberately, he sinks his thumb into a tight place Jake has never ventured into before.
“Wait! No! What are you doing?” she cries, her voice rising sharply as the afterglow of her orgasm vanishes.
He marvels at the way she clenches around his thumb, imagining how incredible it would feel to have her pink asshole stretched taut around his cock. She mewls in protest, her body rigid beneath him.
“Have you ever done anal?”
“No!”
“Really?” His tone holds both surprise and delight, twisting her stomach with nerves. “Can I have your asshole, baby?”
She presses her lips together, eyes squeezing shut.
“Fine…” she whispers. The thought of the pain his thick rod might inflict on her small hole makes her nervous, though a quiet spark of curiosity flickers beneath it. Claire has said more than once that she loves anal. Maybe Lila would, too.
“Yeah?” he murmurs behind her. “What a sweet girl you are.”
“I’m scared,” she admits, her voice trembling.
“Don’t worry, sweetie. Another time,” he says soothingly. “I’ll prepare you properly, and I promise I’ll be gentle.”
Relief floods her as he retracts his digit.
“What do you say?” he asks, punctuating the question with a firm smack to her pert ass.
“…Thank you.”
Pleased, he swiftly sinks his full length back into her. She slaps a palm over her mouth to muffle the startled groan that escapes. The sudden penetration feels incredible, instantly reigniting the fire in her lower belly.
He pounds into her, the heady buzz coiling tighter in his abdomen, driving him relentlessly toward release.
“Oh shit—fuck, fuck!” he groans as he erupts inside her.
Ever since his birthday, he’s been finishing inside her without fail.
He used to ask first. Now he never does.
She knows she’s still in her safe window and tells herself it’s fine, yet something about his quiet assumption pricks at her.
What unsettles her most is that part of her is getting used to it.
“That was a much-needed break,” he sighs, helping her to her feet before pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head. She feels the aftermath of him sliding down her thighs.
“Let’s go wash up,” he says, giving her a playful smack on the ass. “Then you can keep me company while I finish up. I’ll be done soon. We can go out for dinner.”
“You want me to stay here with you?” she asks, surprised as she watches him gather up their clothing. She’d expected him, like Jake, to want space to finish his work.
“Of course,” he says casually.
25
The Maybach moves steadily through the gridlock.
Traffic feels heavier than usual, as though the city itself wants to slow them down.
The last few days of their arrangement have vanished in the blink of an eye.
Lila feels the expected relief of having endured the month, yet an unexplained weight swells in her chest.
She sighs and nuzzles her face into the warmth of Max’s neck, breathing him in as she straddles his lap.
Notes of smoked vanilla and amber rise through the sharpness of bergamot and spicy cardamom, layered with subtler hints she still can’t identify.
The heady blend mingles with the natural musk of his skin.
Greedy for every breath, she burrows her nose deeper, knowing she won’t be able to smell this intoxicating mix again once they part.
He chuckles, tilting his neck away from the ticklish brush of her breath. His hands hold her firmly. It’s strong in a way that makes her feel impossibly safe, even as he gently holds her back.
“You’re tickling me,” he laughs when she wriggles, trying to nuzzle back into his neck.
“That’s your punishment,” she huffs.
“For?” he asks, amused.
“For everything.”
She relaxes then, resting her head against his shoulder. Her eyelids grow heavy as her body sinks into his. A quiet melancholy lingers between them.
Just an hour ago, they’d marked their final day together with a light brunch.
It had felt bittersweet, knowing it would be their last meal.
Afterward, he’d pulled her into the shadows of a nearby corridor, where their bodies had come together one final time.
The thought of goodbye had made them reckless.
The press of his weight against her had been comforting, even as he took her without restraint.
The way she’d clung to him had come as naturally as breathing.
The memory still thrums in her bones. She’d never imagined herself sinking so low, or perhaps soaring so high, as to willingly fuck in a place like that, in full daylight.
She figures this is what being with Max for too long does to a person.
He moves through life as though he owns every inch of it, and with him, she feels just as untouchable.
The risk of someone stumbling upon them had only sharpened her senses, heightening every touch.
Her gaze drifts lazily toward the car’s tinted window, where the familiar silhouette of her apartment building rises in the distance.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks, pulling her from her thoughts.
“I’m just wondering how to say goodbye,” she murmurs, her hand tightening on his shoulder. Her mind has been cycling through possible parting words since last night, yet none of them feel right.
Sergei eases the car to a stop in front of her building. Just as she begins to slide off Max’s lap, he lowers the partition a notch.
“Sergei, take ten.”
“Wait—what?” she exclaims, startled.