I couldn’t worry about that, about anything when a sheen of sweat coated me from the exertion of holding onto him, reaching back for him, twisting in his lap to kiss him. Finally, his whole hand was inside my panties, stretching the lace in a lewd shape. I could make out his knuckles and his individual fingers when I looked down at the distended fabric. It turned me on even more to see Max’s fingers buried in my panties, about to be buried in my pussy. I shuddered at the thought and tipped my head back to whisper to him over my shoulder.
“Please, Max,” I gasped.
“Please what?” he teased me.
“Please put your fingers in me, touch me, feel what you’re doing to me. I’m so wet. I’ve never been so wet,” I babbled urgently.
“Not even when I kissed you at your apartment? When I grabbed your arms and held you there while I tasted you? I couldn’t last another second. You have to know that. I needed you so much I would’ve lost my mind. Only that made it worse, kissing you that way. Once I’d kissed you, I was lost. There was no putting it aside, forgetting about it. No getting you out of my system. My need for you, Rachel, it would terrify you if you knew.”
“It wouldn’t scare me. I feel it, too. Like I could never have enough of you. I’ve thought the—dirtiest things about you, about us. It’s not like me, to even think that way. But after you kissed me I—I was in the shower with nothing but thoughts of you and a massaging showerhead.”
“So what did I do in that fantasy? Did I finger you?” He dipped a long, rough finger into my wet sex, parting those sensitive folds. “Did I go down on you? Eat you out until you were screaming and weeping? Or did I drive my cock into you as if we’d both go mad before we found satisfaction? Tell me,” he punctuated his words with such twisting and stroking of his finger, such a sharp stretching of the invasion of another finger that I rolled my hips, trying to accept it, trying to let the sting pass. He fondled me, gentled me with soft passes of his thumb over my clit. He petted me, tender and lush.
His every touch made me quiver at the wicked knowledge that he knew exactly what he was doing. That he was the one who’d chosen to finger me first, to stretch me, to ready me for his big cock. I couldn’t imagine taking anything bigger than his two fingers, but before I knew it I was clenching on them, riding them, bucking my hips up off his lap as he twisted his wrist and touched a place inside me that made me wild and free. I climaxed, biting my lip with a whimper. He brushed his fingers along my jaw, turned my face so I looked back at him. He kissed my lips, softly even as I came apart in his hands, so romantically, so gently that I was afraid I’d start crying.
As it was, I twisted away from his questing fingers and turned, flung my arms around him. I hid my face in his shoulder, a little embarrassed, a little shy, and hugged him. His arms came around me and held me. It felt so nice to be held, to be cradled against that big, strong chest. I felt that nothing could ever hurt me as long as I stayed in his arms. I felt safe and sound and cherished. I felt the snag of his beard against my hair as he kissed my head.
“I didn’t think you could be more beautiful than you already were. Then I made you come, and that look on your face—blushing and pretty and so surprised. I’ve never seen you so gorgeous,” he said. I just buried my face in his neck and pressed a kiss to his collarbone.
I was afraid I’d say I loved him if I tried to speak. I might fall apart and cry and tell him every single thing I loved about him. That would ruin everything. So instead, I kissed him. The instant our lips touched, that desire raged through me again. The attraction had energy of its own, and I was in the grip of it. Max was kissing me like a desperate man, one drowning or falling, who had caught the one thing that could save him. It was a glorious, joyful, pleasurable kiss that deepened and caught fire. He held my face in both his hands, so personal, so intimate, as if he were holding all of me in his palms, as if I was the person he wanted, my face and my lips and my soul. I felt cherished—I kept thinking that. It was a new feeling for me, and powerful.
Max rolled me onto my back, kissing me, his mouth moving to my neck and the scrape of his beard tickling just enough to sensitize the skin all over my body. I grinned and combed my fingers through his hair, arms and legs around him just to make it really obvious how much I wanted him. Down and down he moved, his lips on my collarbone sending shivers all through me, stripping off my bra with one hand and then fastening his hot mouth over my nipple. I rose off the bed as my body bowed with the shock of ecstasy from the pull of his lips. “Max!” I cried.
He looked up at me then, “I want that. I want to hear you say my name. Every time I make you feel
