Chapter 22 #2
I crash my mouth into hers before she can smirk again. She melts into me instantly—hot, hungry, insistent—and I kiss her like we’re not in a five-star sleep pod with reinforced walls and a memory foam mattress that costs more than my first guitar.
I slide one hand under her borrowed band tee, find warm skin and the flutter of her ribs. She’s soft and arching, her hands already in my shirt, in my hair, clutching like she’s falling and I’m the only anchor left.
The mattress barely shifts beneath us—custom suspension, built to handle whatever chaos we throw at it. Good. Because I’m about to ruin her.
“Gotta stay quiet,” I whisper against her lips, nipping her lower one.
She breathes back, “Then don’t make me scream.”
Fucking hell.
My hand slides beneath the waistband of her skirt, and she gasps into my neck.
“You’re soaked,” I growl, my voice low and already losing control.
“I blame you,” she whispers, kissing my jaw, biting my earlobe. “You and your stupid voice and your hands and your fucking smirk.”
I slide her skirt down her thighs and toss it aside like it offended me. Her panties go next. She’s panting now, and my fingers work her slowly—deep, controlled, cruel in the way that makes her writhe.
“Fuck,” she whispers, fisting the edge of the pillow. “Max—”
“Yeah, baby,” I murmur. “Just like that.”
Her thighs are trembling already and I just know she is already on the edge.
“I want you to fall apart for me,” I whisper, my voice thick, lips brushing her ear. “Right here. Right now.”
She tries to hold on. I can feel it in the way her body fights the wave.
But I don’t let her.
I rub her just right, dragging every little broken sound out of her until she grabs the pillow and shoves her face into it—just in time.
Because when she comes, it’s not quiet.
It’s feral.
I hear the muffled scream against the cushion, feel the way she clenches around my fingers, how her whole body goes taut and then shudders apart. She clings to me like I’m the only real thing left in the world.
And maybe I am.
I kiss her thigh, then her hip, then crawl back up and press my mouth to her jaw, her temple, her cheek. She’s still catching her breath, blinking like she’s not sure what planet she’s on.
I slide my hand up her side. “Didn’t even last two minutes,” I tease her.
She smacks my chest blindly.
I just laugh, but then go quiet. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” I murmur, my voice thick with admiration.
She rolls her eyes, but there’s a flush to her cheeks that betrays her pleasure at the compliment. “Flattery won’t get you anywhere,” she says.
I chuckle, standing to shed my shirt and unbuckle my belt. My cock is hard, throbbing with anticipation, and I can see her eyes darken as she takes in the sight of me. “Oh, I think it’ll get me exactly where I want to be,” I reply, stepping out of my pants and boxers.
Nora’s gaze is hungry as she takes in my body, her lips parting slightly. “You’re not wrong,” she admits, her voice low.
I crawl back onto the bed, my knees bracketing her hips as I lean over her. Her hands immediately reach for me, her fingers wrapping around my cock, stroking me slowly. “You’re so hard,” she breathes, her thumb brushing the tip.
“All for you,” I growl, capturing her wrist and guiding her hand to her entrance. “Get me wet.”
She complies, her fingers sliding through her arousal before wrapping around me again. I hiss at the sensation, the combination of her tightness and her slickness driving me wild. “Enough teasing,” I say, my voice rough. I position myself at her entrance, the head of my cock pressing against her.
“Max…” she moans, teeth sinking into her bottom lip. “Please.”
It’s all I need.
I smirk, leaning down to kiss her deeply. “Now I’ll make you forget your own name,” I promise, thrusting into her in one slow, deliberate motion.
She gasps, her head tipping back as I fill her completely. Her walls are tight, gripping me like a glove, and I can feel her heat enveloping me.
“Fuck,” I mutter. “You feel… goddamn.”
“Move,” she demands, her hands gripping my shoulders. “Don’t stop.”
I pull back slowly, savoring the way her body stretches around me, before slamming into her with controlled force. The mattress barely shifts, but Nora’s breath hitches, her eyes squeezing shut as she bites her lip. “Quiet,” I remind her, my voice a warning.
She nods, her hands tangling in my hair as I set a steady rhythm, thrusting into her with a mix of power and precision.
Her body meets mine with equal urgency, her hips rising to meet each stroke.
The sound of our skin slapping together fills the room, a primal rhythm that drives us both closer to the edge.
“Max,” she pants, her voice strained. “Harder.”
I don’t need to be told twice. I grip her hips, lifting her to meet my thrusts as I pound into her with relentless force.
I lose myself in her completely—her skin, her breath, the way she whimpers when I whisper filthy things in her ear. And when she comes, trembling, gasping, her body pulsing around me, I follow her straight into oblivion.
I collapse onto her with a groan, my body heavy, my heart hammering.
For a few seconds, all I hear is our breathing. The soft rumble of the road. The quiet creak of the pod as we come down.
Nora shifts beneath me, brushing my damp hair back from my face. “We’re going to get caught one of these days.”
I grin into her neck. “Worth it.”
She smacks my arm weakly. I kiss the inside of her wrist in apology. Or maybe a warning for next time.
We stay tangled together, limbs intertwined, legs half-covered in the cashmere blanket she dragged from the lounge. She exhales against my collarbone.
“This pod should not be this comfortable,” she murmurs sleepily.
I pull her closer.
“This pod was designed for sin.”
She laughs—muffled, content, completely at ease.
And somehow, I’ve never been this happy in my pod.
Not because of where we are.
But because she’s here.