3. Georgina #3
“I was perfectly polite at dinner.” He kisses the corner of my mouth, lingering close enough that I feel his smile. “You should appreciate what that cost me.”
“Oh, really? You seemed comfortable enough.” I try to sound unimpressed, though my fingers have tightened against his shirt.
“Your mother was sitting across from us, Elle. What did you expect me to do?” His lips brush my jaw. “Tell her I was having trouble concentrating because my wife was beside me?”
I tilt my head before I can pretend I don’t want him closer. “You could have told your wife.”
He pauses, then draws back enough to look at me. His thumb moves slowly along my cheek.
“I wanted you beside me at dinner.” His voice softens, losing some of its teasing. “And I wanted you to myself afterward. I’ve been looking forward to closing that door all evening.”
My eyes sting unexpectedly. I slide my hand around the back of his neck so I have somewhere to put the feeling.
“Then stop making me wait.”
I draw him toward me, and this time he lets me finish the distance. Max keeps me trapped between his body and the mattress, and starts on the buttons of my dress with a patience that feels like punishment.
“Stay still.”
I try. My hands fist in his shirt anyway.
“Elle, bella mia…” It’s a warning, warm and dark. “I said stay still. Let me look at my wife.”
The dress opens. He pushes it off my shoulders and lets it fall, and then he’s just looking, chest rising, eyes gone black. His thumb traces the edge of the cup, slowly, then hooks it down so my breast spills into his palm.
“Fuck,” he says, reverent and filthy at once. “Look at you… Perfect.” He lowers his head and takes my nipple into his mouth, sucking hard enough that my knees buckle. His arm bands around my waist to keep me up. “Sensitive little thing.”
“I like when you stop treating me as if I’ll break.” I manage, breathless.
He looks up at me from my chest, mouth wet, and the expression on his face nearly undoes me. Want, and something sharper. Possession.
“You won’t break, princess.” He strips the other cup down and gives that nipple the same attention, teeth grazing, tongue circling until I’m shaking. “You’ll take it while I take care of you.”
“Yes, Max… please.”
“Shh. Be good and let me have you.”
He drops to his knees.
The sight of him there, still fully dressed, still looking as if he could walk back into any room and own it, with his mouth level with my hips, punches the air out of me.
He kisses the inside of my thigh, then the other, then presses his face against the damp lace between my legs and inhales as if he’s starving.
“Christ, Elle. You’re soaked. All that composure, and you’re dripping for me.” He mouths me through the fabric, slow, filthy, the heat of his tongue dragging over my clit until I grab his hair. He hums, pleased. “That’s it. Use me. Show me how badly you need it.”
He pulls the lace aside. There’s no preamble, no gentleness. He licks a stripe up through my folds and then seals his mouth over my clit and sucks, two fingers pushing into me at the same time, thick and sudden. I cry out. He groans into me as if he’s the one being given something.
“So tight and wet.” His fingers curl, finding that spot that makes my vision white. “That’s it… Good girl. Fuck my fingers, princess. Don’t be shy now. I want to hear you.”
I do. I can’t help it. The sounds coming out of me are wrecked and open, letting him hear how much I want him.
All evening, I struggled to explain what I needed, but when I reach for him now, I hold on to the warmth of him and the way he says my name, until I can almost forget how far away he felt while sitting right beside me.
Max works me with his mouth and his hand until I’m grinding down onto his face, shameless, and he takes it, greedy, his other hand gripping my ass hard enough to bruise.
“Please…”
“Please what?” He pulls off just enough to speak, lips shining. “Use your words, Elle.”
“Make me come. I need…”
“Hm? Ask nicely.”
The humiliation of it flares hot and sweet. “Please. Please make me come. I’ll be good, I swear, just don’t stop…”
“Come. Now, princess.” He dives back in, sucking my clit in ruthless rhythm while his fingers fuck into me. “Let me taste it.”
I break with a sob, clenching around his fingers, thighs trembling around his head. But Max doesn’t stop. He licks me through it, slower, filthy little sounds of satisfaction, until I tug at his hair because it’s too much.
Then he stands, mouth wet with me.
Max kisses me hard, making me taste myself, and I moan into it, dizzy.
The lace is still bunched around my hips; he doesn’t bother taking it off properly. He shoves his trousers down just enough, fist wrapping around himself, and I stare, hungry, as he strokes once, twice, the head already slick.
“I’ve missed you.” His hand settles against my cheek. “I wish I could keep you close like this.”
My throat tightens. I’m here every day, close enough to touch, but I don’t want to ask why it takes until now for him to miss me. I pull him closer and let myself believe we mean the same thing.
Max kneels between my thighs, rubs the head of his cock through my folds, coating himself, catching my clit on every pass until I jerk. He pushes in.
Not all at once. He watches my face as he feeds me the first thick inch, then another, stretching me open, and the sound he makes is almost pained.
“Cazzo. You make me lose my mind.” He bottoms out with a groan, hips flush to mine, and stays there, buried, breathing hard. “You feel that, princess? That’s what you do to me.”
“Max…” I wrap my legs around him. “Move. Please. I need you to fuck me.”
His smile is dark. “Since you asked so nicely.”
He does, hard and deep. The kind of rhythm that used to make us late, that used to leave me walking carefully the next morning.
Each thrust punches a sound out of me. He catches my wrists and pins them above my head with one hand, the other sliding down to grip my throat.
Not squeezing, just holding, claiming, his thumb stroking the side of my neck while he drives into me.
“Mine,” he says against my mouth.
“Yes! Yes, I’m yours, amore mio…” It rips out of me, raw. “Take me, I’m yours… Don’t stop. Please, don’t you dare stop.”
“That’s it. Take it. You’re doing so well. So fucking pretty like this, princess.”
I shatter harder than the first time, clenching around him so tightly he curses and buries his face in my neck, hips stuttering.
“Fuck, Elle…” His voice breaks against my skin, ragged and desperate in a way that makes me tighten around him again.
“Yes…” I dig my nails into his back, pulling him impossibly closer. “Come inside me. I want to feel it. Please, Max, I need…”
He groans, deep and shattered, and drives into me one last time, burying himself to the hilt as he spills. I feel the hot pulse of him, the way his whole body shudders against mine.