I help him verbalize the “real” goal. “Is to get your cousin drunk.”
Maximoff scowls at the whole scenario. “Or like she said, ‘I want to know what it feels like to be fucking drunk.’ Which could be one beer or three or twenty vodka shots.”
“Twenty shots,” I repeat flatly. “We’re trying to get her feel-good wasted. Not kill her.”
We’re not talking about Jane Cobalt.
His nineteen-year-old cousin Sullivan Meadows asked him for advice about partaking in a “quintessential adolescent party night” with booze included. Something she’s never done since she dedicated her time to competing and swimming as a professional athlete.
For three hours, this was all security could talk about. Our coms convo went something like this:
Donnelly: does Moffy know anything about booze?
Me: he knows vodka is clear.
Akara: don’t get me started.
Oscar: someone convince Jane to convince Charlie to go so I can be there.
Me: or we could just have fun without you, Oliveira.
The younger Hales, Meadows, and Cobalts all refer to Maximoff for advice, help, anything. And while the guy is great at many things, he’s not great at everything.
Like alcohol.
Apparently his cousins and siblings don’t care about good advice. Just his advice. It speaks volumes about their sheer love for Maximoff. And their lack of common sense.
Maximoff returns to his first point of contention. “Feel-good wasted can include dark liquor.” He glares as my amusement brims to the surface. “What?”
“Thank God for my drunk adolescent behavior. You see, we want to start her with the basics, not level her up to a graduate degree in drinking.” I count off my fingers, staring with my thumb. “No whiskey, no bourbon, no scotch, no puke.”
He blinks slowly into a no-nonsense glower. “You’re getting off on this.”
“Getting off on what?”
“The fact that you know more than me about something.”
My brows ratchet up. “Wolf scout, I know more than you about a lot of things. If I got an erection every time this happened, I’d be walking around with a constant hard-on.”
“And I was just about to offer to help you.” He gestures to my cock. “Seeing as how I would’ve been the cause. But now…” He places a hand on his chest. “I’m not feeling so generous.”
I roll my eyes and lick my lips, smiling. “Is that right?” I sweep our builds, still pushed up against one another, my hand on his waist. His hand on my ass.
Maximoff makes a show of taking one step back. Our hands dropping. “All the altruism in my bones has withered and died.”
“That’s dramatic and impossible.”
“Whose to say that I’m not already a selfish fucker? I sped on a freeway with you in the car. Putting your life at risk. Christ, knowing that Jane refused to ever ride in the same car with me if I was behind the wheel. I did that. And I’d probably still be doing it if I had my license.”
He’s not proud. His jaw tics, eyes darkened.
I’m used to the deep tangents. From blow jobs to life meaning. It’s how Maximoff operates. Everything has greater significance to him. Every action has soul-bearing subtext that he tries to unload. His mind is fucking intriguing as hell, and I more than willingly follow every thread, every line of thought.
“You have your flaws,” I say bluntly. “And you need to remind me and the public, the media that you’re human and you’re not perfect because you’re so afraid to let us all down.” I lean closer and whisper, “That makes you less of a selfish fucker.”
Maximoff steps near, his muscular frame colliding with mine. My hand glides against the sharpness of his jaw. His deep breath mixes with mine before his warm lips nudge my mouth open. Our tongues unite, and his hand clenches my hair.
Damn, Maximoff. Heat gathers, a groan in the pit of my throat. He instinctively thrusts forward, pelvis against pelvis. He searches for harder contact on his cock. Something I notice he does often. Something that turns me into a throbbing rock.
I pin his back to the counter. Grinding my erection against his, and he breaks our hungered kiss to let out a strangled moan, “Fuck.”
I want him naked. Bare. Bent over the kitchen table.
I bet he wants me the same way.
I bear more of my weight on him. Maximoff curses out in a throaty groan, his daggered glare on the ceiling. His heartbeat pounds rapidly against my hard chest. I hold his jaw protectively, my fingers sliding over his mouth, down to his neck.
“Fuck,” he breathes. Every look, every word he utters fists my dick.
Maximoff turns the tables. He grabs my ass and uses his strength to straighten up. Not letting our bodies separate, he holds us together and walks me backwards.
My spine hits the refrigerator.
He unbuckles my belt and then slides his coarse hand down my black pants. Only the thin cotton of my boxer-briefs act as a barrier. As he strokes my length, I grit down in arousal, blood pumping hot.
Fuck, I bow forward, my head spinning for a second. “Looks like you’re back to being charitable,” I breathe.
Maximoff removes his hand.
I almost laugh. “And then he leaves to prove a point.”
“I’m checking the time, asshole.” He rotates his wrist, his cheap watch-face in view. “We have ten minutes before everyone gets here. Maybe.”
“Only one of us is getting head then.”
Neither of us forfeits that quickly for most things. Maximoff already has a solution and pulls a coin out of his pocket. “Let’s flip for it.”
“You carry quarters in your pocket?” I raise my brows at him. “What else is in there? A floppy-disk?”
“Shut up and call it.” He tosses the coin.
“Heads.”
He slaps the quarter on the top of his hand. Then, he lifts his palm to heads.
“You can’t beat me at everything,” I tell him.
“I’m starting to think that’s your favorite phrase.” He lowers to one knee, already manhandling my body by wrenching me forward—damn.
I lean my shoulders on the fridge, pulse in my throat. “It’s definitely one of them.”
In one pull, my pants are at my thighs. My fingers weave through his thick hair. Knelt before me, he still seems godly and statuesque, worthy of adoration. His hands trace the muscular curve of my waist that draw him towards my cock.
“I think I like you down there,” I tease.
“Most people do.” He slowly sinks my boxer-briefs down my thighs. My erection springs out, and his chest falls in a desirous breath. He looks at me once to say, “I give great head.”
Great may be an understatement, but I tell him, “The amount of people that call you humble, I’m beginning to think are all liars.”
“Or I am humble. Just not when it comes to sex.”
That comment really stays with me for a second, and then he grips me and languidly licks my tip—fuck. A blistering knot builds in my throat. My head hits a fridge magnet as soon as his lips wrap around my shaft. Fuckfuck.
Shoulders on the fridge, my waist bowed forward, I rock into his mouth, pushing deeper. I know he can take all of me. I tighten my hold on the back of his head.
Maximoff clutches and squeezes my bare ass, and I reach back and place my hand on top of his.
He sucks and licks, doing most of the work, but my breath heavies like I’m the one running the marathon. I bite down, a groan stuck inside of me.
Fuck, I let out a heavy, strained breath. “Maximoff.” His hair tangles in between my fingers. My muscles are on fire.
And then Maximoff lifts his eyes, my erection all the way in his mouth. His gaze alone nearly makes me come. He wears a look I’ve never seen him given anyone.
It’s one that firmly.
Confidently.
And effortlessly says…
This is my kingdom.
My entire body responds, my world lit t
o the core. He takes my cum in his mouth, licks the remainder off my cock, and he swallows. When he eases onto his feet, like every action he just made is the most natural thing in the world, I almost harden again.
Maximoff looks utterly consumed by me. His breath heavy, gaze roaming every limb, every inch of my flesh. I pull my boxer-briefs and pants up, and he catches my hand before I zip.
One breath, he says, “I need inside of you.”
Need. He’s dying to come. I let go and surrender to his desires. Whatever he needs, I’d offer him. With the smallest window of time, we urgently slip into the tiny walk-in pantry.
Maximoff shuts the door and yanks my pants and boxer-briefs back down while I unbutton his jeans, freeing his erection soon after. Our hot and heavy breaths mix together.
“Condom?” I ask him.
He pulls one out of his pocket. Of course.