“This is what you want?” He pants the words, his cockhead nudging against my soaked entrance, his entire body shuddering with the force of holding back. “You want me to fuck you like this, Sasha? Pinned down on my desk, feeling like I can’t fucking stop, like my fucking cock is going to explode if I’m not inside of you in the next five seconds?”
I feel as if I could come on the spot, just from the things he’s saying. My legs go around his hips, pulling him closer, feeling the tip of his cock press into me, and I nod breathlessly.
“Yes,” I whisper, relishing the feeling of his hand pressing between my breasts, the forcefulness of it. With any other man, this would have sent me into a spiral of panic and flashbacks, but with Max, it feels almost healing in a way. I trust him, absolutely. If I say no, I know he’ll stop. I know, down to my soul, that it doesn’t matter how much he wants me, how aroused he is, even if he were on the brink of coming, he’d stop. And so I let myself enjoy the feeling of being under Max’s power, of being swept up in the force of his desire.
“I like this,” I whisper, tugging him closer with my legs around his hips. “And I want you to fuck me just like this, Max.Please.”
He groans, and his hands plant on either side of my head, his forehead pressed against mine again as his hips jerk forward in a hard thrust that leaves him sheathed inside of me to the hilt, his cock sinking into me in one long, hot slide. Pleasure sweeps over me, tightening my body with a wave of sensation that feels almost like a small orgasm. As Max starts to thrust, I cry out, wrapping my arms around his neck and dragging him down to me for another kiss.
This isn’t like the first night in my bed. It’s not sweet and slow, but it feels intimate all the same.I’m the only one he’s done this with,I think as he kisses me, his cock filling me, his body surrounding me.I’m the only one he wants.
It makes all of it feel so much better, so much more intense, to know that I’m Max’s first and only, to know that he’s experiencing all of this with me for the first time. To know that just as he’s the only man I’ve ever wanted to be with, I’m the same for him. It turns the rough, frantic sex, his cock pounding into me as he kisses me deeply, his teeth grazing over my lower lip, into something different, something that feels as if it could overwhelm me with the pleasure of it, thepassion.
“Come for me,” he whispers breathlessly against my mouth, his fingers finding their way between us, rubbing over my clit as he thrusts into me harder than before. “I need to come, Sasha, come for me first–”
The urgent, frantic whisper is like a spark to a fuse, and I feel myself detonate, my hands clawing into his shoulders as I come apart at the seams, screaming his name. My head arches back against the hard wood of the desk, my back curving upwards as Max drives his thick, hard cock into me. I feel myself squeezing around him, pulling him deeper as his arm slides underneath me. He holds me there, arched upwards and clinging to him as he buries his face against my breasts in the v of my sundress, and I feel his cock throb inside of me.
“Fuck!”Max jerks out of me, shuddering, his entire body convulsing as I hear the sound of his cum splashing against the hardwood floor. “Ohgod–”
He groans, his other hand flat against the desk as his hips jerk, and I whimper at the sudden loss of him inside of me, my body clenching uselessly for his cock. Max moans again, slumping against me, and I run my fingers through his hair.
“I didn’t think to ask how you’d feel about me coming on you,” he murmurs, his face still pressed against my breasts. “And we already made the mistake of me cominginyou once. It’s not like I carry condoms–”
I flush, realizing I hadn’t even thought about the possible consequences of Max coming inside of me. All I’d thought about was the pleasure, the way it felt for him to let go inside of me, hot and throbbing, the rush of it as he filled me. I’d wanted it again, and I hadn’t thought about what might come after.
Would I mind?Truthfully, I don’t think I would. I love caring for Caterina’s children, and I’m equally certain I would love caring for one of my own. But I know that’s not a conversation to have with Max tonight–and probably not ever.
My heart sinks at the realization as Max pulls away from me, rearranging himself as he looks for something to clean up with. I wait for the moment that he’s going to tell me that it’s time to go back to the way things were before, and I know, deep down, that I can’t keep pushing him like this.
If he truly doesn’t know who he is without the man he used to be, without the vows he made, then I can’t force him into it. I can’t make him decide who he wants to be–just because I wanthim.
I open my mouth to say just that as I fix my dress, but Max is turning towards me as I do, the mess cleaned up. He walks towards me, his eyes still filled with that hungry light, and I forget everything I was about to say.
His arm goes around my waist, pulling me close to him as his mouth comes down onto mine again, and there’s nothing I could do to stop where this goes next.
There’s nothing Iwantto do–other than this, with Max.
12
SASHA
Iwake up the next morning in Max’s bed.
For one blissful moment, that’s all I register–that and the memory of how I ended up there.
After he’d kissed me in the office, we’d stumbled upstairs into a room I’d never been in before–the master suite that Max occupies on the floor below mine. I hadn’t had a chance to take in the scenery before he’d tossed me onto the bed, following me onto the soft, fluffy duvet as we’d stripped each other’s clothes away in a flurry of hands and mouths, as desperate for each other as we’d been before I’d gotten on the desk.
It was as if he’d decided that, after doing it once, the rest of the night was a sunk cost. He’d made me come twice more with his mouth, spreading me wide and eating me out until I’d drenched his face with my arousal, until I was lax and loose-limbed in the bed. Then Max had leaned over me and kissed me with the taste of my pussy still on his lips, covered my body with his, and thrust into me.
That had been more like the first time, back in New York. He’d pinned my hands over my head, sinking into me again and again in long, slow strokes that left me trembling and moaning, begging him to make me come again.
And he had.
Max is all I’ve ever experienced, but I’m convinced that no one else could make me come like he does, that nothing could ever feel as good as him inside of me, a perfect fit that touches every secret, sensitive spot that I never knew I possessed. I’d clung to him throughout the night as he made me come over and over again, drawing it out as long as he possibly could.
It had been more than sex, more than pleasure, more than fucking–although it was plenty of that. It had beeneverything, and it had only made me believe that much more that what happened between us in New York wasn’t a fluke or an accident of scarcity or a need for me to go out and experience more men to know I’m not making this all up in my head.
Which makes what I know I have to say this morning that much harder.