Page 133

I climbed off the bed and went over to the door. “Say when,” I said as I opened it.

“Stop right there. That’s perfect.”

I returned to the bed, to find him smearing lube along his shaft. He put the bottle aside, then spread his legs, his hand around the base of his cock.

“All aboard.”

I couldn’t rein in my laughter. “How do you want me?” I reached back to remove the plug from my lubed hole.

“Facing the mirror.”

I straddled his hips, my feet planted wide on the mattress, my dick pointing to the ceiling. I put my weight on one hand as I guided his cock to my hole, sighing as he slid into me.

“Look at that,” Max whispered.

I stared at our reflection. “Fuck.” My chest, flushed, a tide of red rising up to my neck, staining my cheeks. My rigid shaft, standing to attention. Max’s hands on my waist. His balls, heavy and full, and just within reach. Max’s wide eyes and parted lips. I tugged on my dick as I rolled my hips, watching his cock bury itself in my body. I cupped and stroked his balls, and he picked up the pace, tilting his hips to drive his shaft into me. I could feel every inch of him, filling me, stretching me.

But I couldn’t kiss him, and that was just wrong.

“Let me turn around,” I begged.

Max let go of me, and I changed position, my calves resting on his thighs as I knelt astride him. Max slid his cock into me, and I placed my hands on his shoulders, looking into his eyes.

I wanted to see the real Max, not his reflection.

Max gripped my ankles as I impaled myself on his cock, my breathing shallow and harsh. I cradled his head and kissed him, and he wrapped his arms around me, slowing my movement, holding me to him, both of us feeding each other low moans of pleasure. I leaned back, my hands on Max’s knees, letting them take my weight as I arched, head back, eyes closed, my hips rolling.

“You feel so good inside me,” I croaked.

His hands were on my waist, pulling me down onto his dick, then raising me up.

Fuck, his kisses…

I needed them like air.

Max gazed at me, and my heart pounded. He wore an expression that was almost awe, as if he couldn’t believe what he was feeling, what he was seeing. He pulled me down to him, one arm around my neck, his hand in the middle of my back, holding me still as we kissed, filling me with slow, exquisite thrusts, his hips doing all the work. I locked my arms around his neck, unable to stop kissing him, loving the way he held me as though I was a precious, fragile thing.

Then he filled me to the hilt, and I groaned.

“Oh God, you’re so deep.”

And I wanted more.

I bounced on his cock, both hands on his nape, looking into his eyes. I held on tight and leaned back, his hands supporting me, taking my weight.

“Max…” I swallowed.

Max’s pupils were huge.

“Come whenever you want. Let me feel it.” His voice shook.

I closed the gap between us and kissed him, moaning into it as I shot hard, all of me shaking. He held me through it, both of us slippery with sweat, the musky scent filling my nostrils. And when he came, I groaned at the sensation of that warmth inside me.

“Quinn,” he whispered, trembling, his face buried in my neck, his hands on my back. I clung to him until the mini earthquake that had been my orgasm finally ebbed into stillness. And when his softened dick slipped from my body, I lay in his arms, listening to the beat of his heart.

Max stroked my hair, my face, my neck, and I lost myself in his touch.

“You’re very good at this, you know,” I murmured. He tilted my face toward his, his expression dazed, and I smiled. “I’m not talking about sex—although you are good at that,” I hastened to add. “I mean the other thing. The holding.” I let out a happy sigh. “That feels exactly like what I was talking about.”