Chapter 15 #3
Maxim turned them, and Pippa felt the edge of the table dig into her ass. Suddenly, the kiss turned soft. Tender. He pulled back slightly until their lips barely brushed, and he brought both hands up to gently frame her face.
This was impossibly sweet, charmingly divine. Pippa no longer felt her feet on the floor or the weight of gravity or the temperature of her apartment; all her senses were overwhelmed by him. Hard muscle, thick hair, the citrusy, heady smell of his skin.
Maxim flicked his tongue along her lower lip and cradled her jaw in his palms, tracing the curves of her ears with his fingertips.
She was on the cover of a bodice ripper.
That’s how this felt. She was in the climactic windswept scene of a movie, with a dramatic cliffside in the background and soaring orchestral music.
“I’m going to need you to take off all your clothes,” he whispered.
And that would be the exact dialogue in one of those scenes, too, Pippa was sure of it. She smiled against his lips. “And here I was thinking that I’d been experiencing the pinnacle of romance.”
“Nudity is romantic.”
Still smiling, she grabbed the hem of her t-shirt, but as she lifted it, she paused.
“Actually, no.” She stepped back out of Maxim’s reach and walked around the table so it stood between them.
He looked concerned until he noticed her smirk.
“Here’s the thing,” she said, putting on an air of serious analysis.
“Once I get my shirt off, you’re going to jump me.
You’re going to see my tits, which are admittedly incredible.
You’re going to lose your wonderful horny mind and do all sorts of things to me on the carpet or the table or against the counter. ”
“Don’t forget the couch,” Maxim said. “Also maybe a wall.” He followed her, stalking around the table.
“Exactly,” Pippa said. “And while I admire your creativity and can-do attitude, we’ve already done things in the living room. And in a closet. When I fuck you, I want it to be somewhere comfortable.”
The look Maxim gave her could have leveled entire buildings.
His eyes were dark, his cheeks flushed, his hands clenched as if readying to grasp her as soon as she was in reach.
The same part of her hindbrain that told her she wanted snacks and a warm fire and a place out of the elements was telling her now that, really, the floor would be just fine, actually, because she needed him driving into her hard, and she needed that now.
Despite the growing haze of lust, Pippa walked backward toward her bedroom with the hope that she would look suave and sexy and not bump into any walls.
“So,” she continued. “Here’s the deal.” She delicately lifted the hem of her shirt until it was barely beneath her breasts, and Maxim’s expression told her that he was making a solid attempt to rip off her clothes using only the power of his stare.
“We’re going to my bedroom, and you can’t touch me until we get there. ”
Pippa slid the shirt over her head, then tossed it away. Goosebumps tickled over her breasts and her nipples tightened under the dual intimidation of her apartment’s chill air and Maxim’s guttural exhale that sounded very much like both a curse and a prayer.
“You’re ruthless,” he managed. He followed her as she made her way down the hallway, and whipped his shirt off without breaking stride. His chest heaved, and muscles flexed in his upper arms and shoulders as he hurled the shirt to the floor.
Pippa’s thoughts stuttered and her backward shuffling slowed. Maxim was within reach. She could just touch him. She could just grab him.
He even loomed effectively while turned on.
Not surprising, of course. The normal intimidating size of him held an additional thrill because she was the entire object of his attention.
He wasn’t looming over her with his thoughts a thousand miles into depositions or witness statements.
Here, he was absolutely intent on her. The carpet could turn into moss, or a swarm of bees would burst from an air vent, and he’d still be training that razor-sharp gaze on her. Well, her and her tits.
Maxim still came closer. His collarbones were level with her nose and she imagined briefly how he’d react if she surged forward and dragged her tongue along the ridge of each one. She’d snake her fingers through the golden-brown hair over his sternum, tug at it until he gasped.
But she’d made a decision, and for fuck’s sake, the bed was so close.
Pippa tutted. “We’re not even through the doorway yet.
” Then, because she’d never been able to resist mild torment, she cupped her breasts, flicked her nipples, and reveled in Maxim’s unraveling.
“Come on, now. Think of my poor body. Think of all the rugburny possibilities this hallway will provide and all the joint pain you’ll—”
Maxim interrupted her with a low growl that managed to travel all the way down her spine. He scooped her up, carried her through the doorway, and dumped her on the bed like a sack of laundry.
Pippa would have felt some outrage at that if she hadn’t become a giant bundle of nerves and lust. He followed her onto the mattress and then buried his face in her chest, letting out a groan that was equal parts relief and ecstasy.
She couldn’t help but giggle a bit, and when Maxim pulled back, he was wearing a chagrined smile.
He didn’t stop touching her, though. Her breath hitched at the whisper of his knuckles along the swells of her breasts.
Her nipples tightened into sweet, sensitive buds when he circled her areolas.
Although she wanted to do the exact same to him, to stroke and pinch and lavish attention on the parts of him she’d not touched yet, this seemed to be something that Maxim needed.
His expression was heartbreakingly reverent, and Pippa felt her throat grow tight.
It struck her then how absolutely ridiculous it had been that she’d ever thought he was only wanting to be with her because of what excitement she might be able to bring to his life.
That he saw her as a character from a thrilling story and by association, he could pretend to be in that story as well.
Someone who thought those things would not be looking at her as if he were memorizing her, tracing her curves and assuring himself that she wasn’t about to dissolve in front of him.
Maxim let out a short sigh, then buried his face in her breasts like he wanted to set up residence in her cleavage.
Pippa arched against him and gripped his hair, keeping him close as he licked and sucked and nipped at her until she writhed beneath him.
He attended to every freckle, each stretch mark.
Her entire body felt hot and tingling and far too tight.
From below, she heard a muffled voice that sounded very much like “God, your tits are perfect.”
“Maxim, I need more,” she said in a breathless whimper. As he rose up to kiss her, she reached down between their bodies to his belt in a wild fumble that brushed the ridge of his erection.
He let out a choked gasp and bucked into her, grinding against her hand, which then pressed her fingers firmly against her clitoris. Pippa cried out at the pleasure that flooded up her spine, but it wasn’t enough. Not at all.
The elastic waistband of her sweats suddenly felt as confining and awful as a cage. She struggled with the fabric until Maxim noticed and finished wrestling them off, taking her underwear with them and sending both into a pile on the carpet.
He came back to her in an instant, mouth on hers and stroking thick fingers between her legs, just as hard and fast as she needed.
The rasp of his jeans on her inner thighs and the raw slide of his stubbled jaw along her chin were her only anchor; if not for the slight flash of pain, she’d be drifting up through the ceiling and into the sky.
As Maxim slid two fingers into her, she cried out and held tight to his shoulders, his skin hot under her grasp.
Oh, she could never get enough of this. Not of his breath coming in quick puffs on her neck, or the wickedly dexterous motions that stretched her and flicked against soft, slick parts that made her legs spasm.
But still.
“I need you,” she slurred. “I need all of you. Please.”
He rolled to his side and whipped his belt open, and before he’d fully undone his zipper, Pippa was yanking his jeans off. Or, at least, trying to.
“You could have made this easier and worn breakaway pants,” she said, tugging on the cuffs that had become stuck on Maxim’s surprisingly bony ankles.
She could use magic to help remove them, but knowing how little she’d be able to concentrate on directing it, she’d probably end up disintegrating the denim completely.
“You know,” Maxim said, “that was my first thought when deciding what to wear here.” The jeans were turning inside-out and one foot finally popped free. “I was planning on giving an impromptu striptease on your counter and buying a sparkly thong printed with ‘I’m sorry’.”
Pippa took a brief second to really appreciate that visual, then mentally filed it away for the future. “At least then I wouldn’t feel like I was shucking you like a corn cob.”
Maxim’s moan was fake and exaggerated and still managed to make her mouth dry. “You say the most arousing things.”
After one last yank, the jeans fell defeated to the ground and the only remaining piece of clothing between them was his underwear—soft, likely expensive, just so very him.
Her fingers hovered at the waistband as she battled with the dual urges to either ravish him or to take things slow and savor every second.
As if he could see the pattern of her thoughts, Maxim sat up and leaned forward. He dragged his hands up her thighs, his thumbs barely brushing where she wanted him, and as Pippa let out high whine, he gripped her hips and looked at her intently.
“Pippa,” he said, his voice low and rumbling. “I want you to shuck me. Shuck me hard.”