There’s no warning as he impales me, only a grunt of pure ecstasy from him and a moan of longing from me.
His hand fists my hair, and he yanks my head down. “Look at how we fit, Samira. How perfectly we’re made for each other.”
Max doesn’t say things he doesn’t mean. He never spins lies or half-truths. When he tells me something, he utterly believes it, and because of his conviction, I’m never worried about being deceived by him. It may seem silly, but that’s what makes me love him the most. His honesty. Sometimes I don’t love what I hear, but Maxim's honesty is liberation for someone like me who has lived so much of her life in deceit. It also fosters a deep trust in this man, something I’ve never given to another person in my entire life.
The pad of his thumb rubs gently on my clit. A contradiction with the brutal assault of his huge penis. I smile because Max fucks exactly how he loves. It’s fierce and volatile, with force and love.
My gaze locks on where we’re joined. His penis moves in and out of me in a fast, hypnotic motion. I don’t understand why the sight is so erotic and intense, but it is.
“You’re it for me, Samira. The only woman I’ll ever want or need.” He tugs at my hair. “Keep looking, baby. Look at how hard I am for you. Only you. That’s your cock, Malishka, and that’s my perfect wet cunt. Tell me what I want, Samira.”
He fists my breast and kneads it forcefully before taking the nipple between his fingers as he twists and pulls. “I’m not a patient man, Samira. I suggest you don’t keep me waiting.”
I can’t help but smile at that notion. Maxim is the most patient man in the world. Not many in his position would stay celibate for ten years while searching for me. But Max waited for me. “I love you.”
His head bends, and he places a chaste kiss on my lips. “I love you too, but you're kinda taking me out of the moment here.”
“Guess you better work harder, so you take us back in.”
He smiles, and his hand smacks my breasts in multiple slaps, each one stinging more than the last. “Oh, Malishka. Looks like my little brat needs a reminder about how to be a good slut for me. Pull my pussy open.”
I pull my pussy lips for him, exposing myself to his eyes. Maxim spits, and the saliva drops from his mouth straight onto my clit.
“Rub it in. I want to see you rub my spit into my pussy, slut.”
My fingers move, spreading the spit all over my slit. The sensation is so intense. The desire in me builds until it becomes a crescendo.
“What are you, Samira?”
“Yours!” I scream. “I’m your good little slut.”
Maxim shoves into me, deep and wild. His mouth is on mine, his teeth tugging at my bottom lip. My blood floods our mouths.
“Mine,” he growls. His body stiffens, and he unleashes his seed deep in me. “And I’m yours.”
He pulls out of me slowly. “I’m going to have to pay extra for this dinner. They probably didn’t expect cum stains all over their furniture.”
Reality dawns on me, and I remember we are at Chez Pierre, a luxurious French restaurant that caters to the affluent and famous. Panic takes hold, and suddenly the walls feel like they are closing in on me.
“Fuck. I have no clothes. I’ll have to go out there with my pussy exposed and my tits on display, thanks to you.”
“Might be fun to torch the place. Enzo is in town, too. He might give me a hand.”
I smack him on the chest, amused and frustrated. “I’m serious, Maxim. I don’t want to walk out of here like that. The idea is humiliating.”
He winks at me before pulling out a Dior bag. “I’m one step ahead, baby. "
I tear through the tissue paper, tossing it on the floor to reveal a pretty three-quarter-length sleeveless black dress with hand-stitched off-white flower embroidery. “It’s so pretty.”
“It’s also more you. As sexy as that red dress was, it wasn’t you.”
I smile, appreciating how right he is. The red Valentino was way too ostentatious for me. Bright red, crystal accents. It was all too much.
I dig in the bag for undergarments, but there are none. “What about underwear?”
“You seem to be under the notion I’m done fucking you for the night.”
“What?”