by Karina Halle
He lets go of my wrists, starts moving down the bed, lips trailing along my body, tongue clearing a path. My skin leaps at his touch, feverish and flushed, as he closes his mouth over my nipple, pulling it in, a long, slow suck that makes me moan, the eyes rolling back in my head.
Holy shit.
He’s just getting started and I’m all ready to let go.
He groans against my breast, sending shockwaves through my nervous system, which already feels like it’s about to have a meltdown. Something nuclear.
Then he keeps moving, pressing his hands against my thighs to part them and then close them again.
I prop myself up on my elbows to watch, my eyes glued to him as he rests between my hips, coming to his knees as he wraps his long fingers around the hem of my booty shorts and underwear. I lift up my hips to help him and, at that, he looks up at me, meeting my gaze.
Good lord.
I think this man is going to eat me for breakfast.
There’s something feral in his stare, like I’m not the only one who’s been freed from a cage, running loose.
He keeps eye contact as he strips me bare, my underwear caught around one ankle, then slides his palms back up my thighs. Runs them underneath, parting them wider, keeps watching me as he slides a finger down my middle, the sound embarrassingly wet.
The corner of his mouth lifts.
His tongue snakes out through his teeth.
Lowers his head between my legs, placing his mouth right over my clit while his finger trails down, diving inside me.
“Fuck!” I cry out softly, head going back. I clench around his finger as his mouth sucks and licks and makes my thighs tremble from the inside out. My fingers are gripping the sheets and I manage to uncurl them, reaching down for his head. I wrap my fingers around his thick strands and hold tight, knowing I’m about to go off.
Give his hair a tug.
He moans into me, the vibrations ricocheting through my core, then proceeds to eat me out like he’s been starving for me, and that’s when I realize he might be getting as much out of this as I am. Perhaps I’m pure fuel. I won’t stop him from getting his fill.
Except that he’s deeply skilled and my body is a hair trigger. A twist of his tongue and I can’t hold back any longer.
I come hard in his mouth, my hips bucking up against his face, my thighs squeezing his head as he tries to consume every last drop of me, feasting greedily until I’m lying back on the bed. Floating, boneless, nothing but a manic heart trying to escape from my ribs.
I open my eyes and Max appears above me, his shoulders and chest so wide and encompassing they block the view of the ceiling, making me feel like we’re together in an endless plane. The length of him over me, his skin kissing mine, spurs on a new type of hunger, and I press my hands on his back, pulling him down, wanting to feel crushed by the weight of him.
He brushes my hair off my face, his fingers fast and jittery with need and quickly kisses me. He tastes like me, his mouth so wet, so messy, and my hands run down until they meet his bare ass. I dig my nails in, pulling him against me, realizing he got his briefs off at some point.
I slip my hand between us as he continues to suck at my neck, hissing into my ear as I grab hold of his cock, desperately feeling the width and length of him.
I’m in trouble.
After groping him back in the California desert, I had zero doubt he was blessed in this department, especially since he’s such a big beast of a man to begin with, but holy hell, I really don’t think he’s going to fit. I’m fairly tiny. He’s huge with a capital H.
“Ada,” Max moans into my skin. “Easy now. Fuck.”
I grin to myself, gripping him tighter, biting my lip. God, I can’t wait to see him come.
He pulls back, breathing hard, capturing my lips in another quick, hard kiss, fucking me with his tongue before he leans back, surveying me before he gets himself into position.
One hand goes on my inner thigh, bracing himself as he grips his cock with the other. Sweat beads in the determined creases of his brow and he’s staring down at me, as if waiting for my cue.
I watch him, sucking in my lip, and I guess that’s enough of a cue for him.
His grip on my thigh becomes bruising as he guides the tip of his cock against me, slowly teasing me, the sound slick, making me squirm with desperation.
He licks his lips, gazing at me under heavy lids, and as he inhales sharply through his nose, he slowly pushes himself inside me.
God…fuck…this…
I gasp, my eyes pinching closed.
I’m seizing up, the feeling taking over my body as he squeezes inside me, a tighter than tight fit, and I’m trying to relax, to let him stretch me wider and wider until I nearly feel split in two.
He stills when his body is flush with mine and I can’t breathe. He’s all I feel. So big, he takes up all the space inside me and then some, like he’s penetrating my heart at the same time.
I’m overwhelmed. He’s too much for me. This is too much for me.
“Are you okay?” he whispers roughly.
I open my eyes, seeing him stare at me with a mix of fevered lust and concern.
I can barely nod. “Yes,” I say, choked. “Go slow.”
He swallows, his eyes blinking yes, and with a shuddering breath slowly pulls out.
Already his absence has me greedy.
He grinds his teeth, pushing his cock back in and this time my body is ready, wanting him, needing him. I stretch to take him, he fills up all my empty space, and suddenly there’s a connection, like something finally clicks into place.
He shudders out a long breath, slowly pulls back, pushes back in, and each time he does it, I watch his expression, watch the determination on his brow, the way he’s trying so hard to stay in control, how badly he wants to let go.
He’s so good.
This is so good.
He fucks me with confidence, like he knows me, like we’ve done this before, and yet also we’re doing it for the first time. He commands my attention, not just from my eyes as I take him in, or from my fingertips as they coast down the hard muscled expanse of his back, or from my body which squeezes around him. But from some intangible part of me deep beneath, a part of me that’s primal and instinctual and slowly growing obsessed.
It’s that energy inside of me. It’s climbing out through my skin, meeting his in fire and sparks and otherworldly heat.
I close my eyes, succumbing to it, wanting more of him, feeling like I’ll never be able to get enough. “Max,” I whisper to him, my voice hitching with my breath. “Make me come.”
Make me beg.
“Please,” I add, knowing what that will do to him.
He lets out a low growl and starts really fucking me, hard jabs from his grinding hips, and I slide my legs up his sides, touching ankles over his lower back.
“Fuck,” he growls sharply into my neck, biting me, sucking, and he brings one of my hands above my head, pinning me in place, the other pinching my nipple. He starts pounding into me, enough to shake the bed, jostle my breasts, and I feel like a fucking ragdoll beneath him. There’s so much power in him that I think he might fuck me right through the wall and into the next room.
I tighten my grip on his shoulder, tighten the grip on his sides.
Holding on.
Giving in.
He’s gasping, grunting, working me like he’ll die if he doesn’t and, fuck, that might even be true.
Fingers twist in my hair.
Teeth raze my throat.
Hips flex into mine, harder, slapping, leaving bruises.
Cock driving deeper, faster, frantic.
Feral.
His breath in my ear, getting shorter, raspier, hitching, catching in the same rhythm of his thrusts.
With another deep, guttural moan his hand slips down to my pussy, gliding over my clit, and I’m so wet he barely has any control.
But it’s enough.
My orgasm is right t
here, ready to rip me to shreds, and at the last minute I think I should hold back, like I’m scared, scared by how he’s going to make me feel, scared that he might actually blow my fucking mind to smithereens.
But then his finger fucking spanks my pussy and I’m gasping, screaming, pushed right over the edge, no parachute.
“Oh fuck!” I scream, the words ripped out of my throat, followed by sounds that belong to an animal. I come so hard that I feel turned inside out, unable to have any control, like I’m being shot into space, turning to stardust.
And then he’s kissing me, groaning into my gaping mouth, before straightening out, back arched, the big wide expanse of him, chest, shoulders, biceps, is all my delirious eyes can see. He’s gasping like he can’t breathe and he stills for a moment, his lips parting in a wild sneer before he shudders, coming inside me.
I feel it. I mean I fucking feel it. Feel him come. The energy tangling like livewires, adding an extra dimension to all the transcendent feelings that are still ripping through me, making my limbs shake, my heart tremble.
He collapses against me, his full weight, and then makes a move to push himself up, but I immediately hold him against me, feeling his heart move against my chest, the sweat from his body mixing with mine.
I blink up at the ceiling, trying to gather my thoughts, then decide I don’t need them anyway. Who needs thinking at a time like this? All I have is feeling, and that’s the feeling of him.
I run my hands up into his hair, stroking him in an easy, blissed-out rhythm, my mind wandering to nowhere in particular. Our breaths eventually slow together, our hearts come back down to earth.
It feels like minutes, or maybe hours, before he lifts up his head and looks at me.
I mean, really looks at me.
Heavy lidded eyes, emerald green, crinkling softly at the corners.
He smiles at me.
A warm, broad, beautiful smile.
It makes my heart feel too hot for my chest.
I smile back, placing my fingers along his cheekbone, trailing them down over his jaw, his chin.
“Hi,” I say softly.
“Good morning,” he says back.
And all this time he’s still inside me, still hard. I have to wonder what that’s about.
“So…” I say, and he leans in, kissing me tenderly, gazing at me with thoughtfulness.
“So,” he says against my mouth, before pulling away.
“That happened.”
“It definitely happened.”
He reaches over and brushes the hair off my face with light fingers.
“And, so, what are your thoughts about that?” I ask sweetly.
He presses his lips together, looking up to the ceiling as he pretends to think, and fuck if he’s not adorable. “I think we should do that again.”
I grin at him, running my fingertip over his lip. God, I love his lips. “Well, that’s convenient because I think you’re still hard.” I pause, adjusting myself around him. “And I know you came.”
His smile turns cocky. “That I did. Let’s just call it a perk.”
“To having sex with you?”
He shrugs. “I’m a man of many talents.”
“Swordplay being one of them.”
He laughs, burying his mouth in my neck, his body moving over me.
And while I know that there was so much darkness we had to wade through earlier, and I know that darkness hasn’t gone away, I’m willing to pretend otherwise for now.
For now, I have him.
That’s all I want.
Eighteen
“Lose the halo, don’t need to resist. A lick of the lips and my grip on your hips.”
– Sick, Sick, Sick
I know what it’s like to start sleeping with someone and immediately lose yourself to them. I know that’s a thing I do. I crave them, lust after them, obsess over them until I finally have them, and then I can’t stop having them. I give myself over, mind, body, soul, like a junkie, exchanging myself for a high that I never want to come down from.
But while I’m like that, Max is not.
Don’t get me wrong. The man fucked me all morning long until my body physically couldn’t take it anymore. He knows what I like, knows what he likes, and he’s extremely skilled at getting us both there.
But by the time afternoon rolled around, he knew we needed some fresh air and something to eat. Neither of us had even eaten dinner last night, thanks to all the dark dealings at Rose’s bar, so we were both starving by the time we finally left the hotel.
And once we were done having lunch, he grabbed my hand and led me out on the streets to see the rest of the city. No matter where we went, whether it was the Voodoo Museum, a Vampire Café, Café du Monde, he was always finding some way to keep us connected. Hand in my back pocket, fingers resting at the small of my back, arm linked with mine. The constant contact was a pretty good substitute for not being back at the hotel and rolling around in the sheets together. I mean, considering.
“Ever seen Gwar?” Max asks me.
We’re standing outside the House of Blues and I’m sucking back on a to-go Bloody Mary, watching a horse and carriage trot past. “I’m sorry, Gwar? Isn’t the lead singer dead?”
Max shrugs. “I was dead.”
I give him a steady look. “Oh, come on.”
“They’re in costume. I’m sure they’ve continued on with new members.”
I sigh. “I don’t even know what they sound like, but I know I won’t like it.”
“You dragged me to a rave.”
“Yeah. And we barely stayed. And you got to make out with me.”
He gives me a lazy grin. “That I did.”
He puts his arm around my waist and pulls me right up to him, kissing me deeply. He tastes like the wine we had for lunch and it makes me feel drunk on my feet.
Or maybe that’s all the drinks I’ve had.
“See, now you can make out with me all the time,” I tell him, smiling against his lips. “And, you know, you can fuck my brains out too.”
He growls, holding me tighter, his eyes glinting. “Don’t make me take you back to the room. I want to show you my city tonight.”
“I’ve seen enough.”
“Blasphemy,” he says. “Come on. Show starts in a few hours and I’m hungry all over again.”
So we go to this restaurant he recommended that serves the best gumbo and fried okra, order a bottle of expensive wine, and even though I’m still a horny mess on the inside, I have to admit it’s nice to be on a date with him. Like, a real date. I don’t have to worry about touching him inappropriately or gazing at him for too long (okay, so I never really worried about those things to begin with). I know he’s not going home tonight with anyone else but me.
It feels so damn good.
The happiness just wants to burst out of me.
But it’s held back, too.
Because last night still lingers on my mind, as does our fight this morning.
The things he said, the things he felt, that I felt too.
I know he’s in a lot of pain, that he’s empty, that he’s close to giving up, that even as I look at him now, his eyes going soft as he catches my gaze, that he can’t run away from the darkness.
I want to pretend that sleeping with Max fixed him. I’d like to think I have a magic pussy, capable of putting him back together.
I know that’s not the case.
And I know pretending it is would only do us harm. So, as happy as I am, as much as this feels right, so right, enough to make a skeptic like me to start believing in destiny, I know that we aren’t out of the woods yet.
In fact, I think we’re in the middle of the woods right now.
We’re just having sex at the same time.
When we’re done with our lovely dinner, both of us pretty drunk having ordered yet another bottle of wine, we head to the House of Blues. We’re already a little late, but at least there’s no line.
And the mome
nt we get inside, the sound rattling my fillings, I have a feeling we didn’t miss much.
This band is insane.
They’re all dressed in costume, making them look like ridiculous monsters (and I can say that, because I’ve seen real monsters), and there’s like fake blood spraying all over the place.
And the music is awful. I mean, I like some heavy stuff, I have a metal-head older sister whose music collection has grown on me, but this is just nonsense.
But it’s fun nonsense and everyone here seems to be enjoying themselves, rocking out and what not. Helps that everyone is drunk.
Speaking of…
“Let’s get a drink,” I tell Max, tapping him on the arm. “The balcony probably has less of a line.”
He grabs my hand and leads me through the crowd and up the stairs, everyone parting for us, and I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of following him. Think I might follow him everywhere.
Because you’re in love with him, dumbass.
Crap. That can’t really be true, can it?
I’ve been in love before, I know what it feels like.
It feels different this time around.
Maybe it’s because I really know Max. That we’ve been friends for so long, even if there was this break in the middle, that there’s this basis of friendship in which we’re building upon, making it seem deeper, more stable, more…rooted. Safe. Real.
Maybe you need to stop overanalyzing your feelings and just enjoy the now, I remind myself.
Because that’s the other thing.
I don’t want to be in love with Max.
Not so soon after what happened with Jay.
But I don’t want him to be a rebound either because he’s so much more than that to me.
And then, what if I lose him?
What if I can’t keep him?
What if I can’t save him in the end?
Then what?
“What will you have?” Max asks me as we get in line for the bar, snapping me out of my thoughts, thoughts I hope he’s in the dark about.
“A beer,” I tell him. “But in a bottle, not on draft.” Then I notice the other line is getting shorter. “Hey, you go in that line and I’ll stay in this one and we’ll see who gets service first.”