Somebody to Love (Crazy Little Thing Book 3)

by Serene Franklin

  I worked my hand faster, bringing him to the edge in a matter of seconds. His body tensed and he bit down on his knuckle as he spilled into my hand. I stroked him through his orgasm, milking every last bit of pleasure out of his release until he became oversensitive to my touch.

  My own cock ached, though I ignored it. I’d take care of it once Maxim drifted off. I withdrew my hand from his pants then licked my fingers clean while he watched me. “You taste just like I remember.”

  His eyes darkened and his gorgeous chest heaved. I thought he might say something when his lips parted, but his tongue darted out to lick them, and he remained silent aside from his heavy breathing. I took hold of his hand and kissed the back of it before resting our joined hands on his chest.

  “Let me up. I’ll get the shower going.”

  Maxim sat up, and I tried to do the same, but he pushed me back against the cushions. I narrowed my eyes at him in question as he shifted off of the couch and knelt between my spread legs, then his intent became way too clear. I wanted to tell him he didn’t have to—I wanted to tell him to suck my fucking cock. My throat constricted, and I couldn’t say either. Maxim didn’t wait for words that wouldn’t come. He pulled my pants down enough to free my cock, then his mouth was on me. He took me all the way down in one go, and I almost fucking blew.

  I hissed at the exquisite heat and pressure and resisted the urge to grab his head and fuck his throat mercilessly. He’d give me what I wanted in his own time. I lifted my shirt with one hand and buried the other in his thick, short hair. His eyes flicked up and locked with mine while he tongued the underside of my cock, and a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. I squirmed and groaned when he pulled back, keeping me from thrusting into his mouth.

  “Max, come on.” My voice was whiny and desperate even to my own ears. Maxim’s grin widened. Frustrated and horny weren’t states for me, so I stopped moving and started begging. “Please.”

  “Please what?”

  “Suck my fucking cock.”

  He hummed before taking me into his mouth again—all the way down until his trimmed beard tickled by balls. I was close to coming from merely having watched him get off and wasn’t going to last. Maxim must have known, because he didn’t stop working me over, even when he gagged a couple of times. I didn’t warn him before I came. It happened so fast; I couldn’t do anything but close my eyes and cling to him as if he could keep me from being swept away in the whirlwind.

  My cock pulsed in his mouth while his hand massaged my thigh, easing the tension out of it. When I opened my eyes, Maxim was looking up at me expectantly, and I noticed some of my cum dripping from the corner of his mouth. I leaned forward and swiped it away with the pad of my thumb, then smeared it across his lips. I traced the scar on Maxim’s upper lip leading up to the bottom of his nose. His back stiffened and his eyes turned fearful, though he didn’t pull away from me. I brushed his scar again, and his lips trembled.

  “You’re so gorgeous, Max.” I swept my thumb over his scar again then his lips parted on a shudder. “Every inch of you is beautiful.” He closed his eyes and remained still, despite how much I knew he wanted I pull away. I seized that opportunity to lean in and steal a kiss, drawing a surprised gasp from him. The taste of my cum on his lips surprised me initially—it wasn’t as bitter as it usually was, which I could likely attribute to my healthier diet since cooking for Maxim. The longer we kissed the more that bitterness faded and gave way to a taste that was distinctly Maxim. My Maxim.

  I pulled him up by the collar until he straddled me, and we continued to make out like we were lust-struck teens again. Maxim tried to keep his weight off of me, and I let him because I was too caught up in the moment. I’d always enjoyed the feel of his weight against me—a weight I longed to feel pinning me while his cock slid inside me and claimed me. He was big and powerful in ways I wasn’t, yet he always treated me with care. Even when he was rough, he never did anything I didn’t beg for.

  Before I let him consume me completely, I broke our kiss and rested my forehead against his. A muttered “fucking hell” slipped past my lips, because what else could I say? Maxim nuzzled his nose against mine, then kissed me chastely before he rose to his feet. His jaw was clenched tight, though his eyes on me were kind and loving. I reasoned the tension in him was because his shoulder hurt, and not due to regret over what we’d done. At least not yet.

  I tucked myself back into my pants—Maxim’s pants—then led him to the bedroom. I tried to get in first, but Maxim’s firm grip on my arm stopped me. “Wha—”

  His soft kiss swallowed the rest of my words, and I let them go willingly. It was dark in Maxim’s room, with only the dim lights from the city coming through the window. It was enough for me to make out his outline, though I was sure he smiled at me before he climbed into bed. He raised his left arm, wordlessly beckoning me to him, and I complied. With my head resting on his chest, I fell asleep almost believing we were twenty again, and that I hadn’t fucked up the best thing that’d ever happened to me. Almost.

  When morning came, I was scared to move. Maxim’s breathing let me know he was still asleep, and I was still cuddled against him. His arm was probably blue from lack of circulation, but checking would require moving, and that wasn’t happening. If he was going to wake up and tell me to leave or look at me with shame in his eyes, I’d be crushed. Remaining glued to his side, breathing in his scent, was the safest option.

  It wasn’t long before Maxim roused from sleep and dispelled all of my worries with a simple kiss and a devastatingly handsome crooked grin. Light caressing to my rose tattoos let me know he still had use of his arm, and I bit back a grin. The urge to kiss him again and start some heavier shit swirled within me, but we had places to be. Maxim had an appointment to get his sutures removed, and we needed to get up. My half-hard morning wood could wait until we got back.

  Eight

  Maxim

  My first follow-up appointment with my doctor had gone well. My shoulder was healing nicely, and with the sutures gone, I no longer had to keep it wrapped. I’d still need a sling or brace for sleeping, but I could start doing simple tasks on my own again, like cooking.

  Even so, Remy had insisted on making me sit and wait on the couch while he made supper. He’d been smiling more than he had since he’d arrived, but they were superficial at best. The lines around his eyes and the tension in his shoulders showed his true concern, and I knew why.

  The other night had been a lot for both of us. Remy was probably right that the drugs had emboldened me, but I didn’t care. I wanted him as much as I ever did, and no amount of medication could have changed my mind about it. Having Remy touch me like that again gave me such a heady feeling that I thought I’d pass out. His hand on my cock and his heavy grip on my chest had nearly unraveled me. After I came, I’d wanted him. Not just for the night—forever. If I were completely honest, I’d never stopped wanting him.

  I knew he’d have put distance between us had I voiced my true wants, and I couldn’t let him pull away. It seemed that Remy wasn’t the only liar in this—whatever this was between us.

  My doctor also said I could cut back on my pain medication, which was the best news. Second best was that I was cleared for light cardio and weights for my left arm, though he warned me not to overexert myself. Injuring my shoulder again would prolong my recovery, and possibly cause permanent damage. So I’d be patient and focus on what I could do instead of my temporary limitation. I’d texted Mac the good news after the appointment and he’d called back and announced we were going to the gym tomorrow morning. I was itching to get back and didn’t put up an argument.

  Remy had been distant, yet cordial, which only put me on edge. He was acting like everything was okay, when something was clearly bothering him. Waking up alone in bed all but confirmed my suspicions. Remy was many things, but an early riser was not one of them—when given a choice. This meant he’d been troubled and restless, or he was avoiding me. Or both. It was li
kely both.

  The truth was I was nervous about seeing him too. Things would be different today, what with my doctor having effectively cleared me of needing Remy’s help showering. A small flame of hope flickered deep in my gut that maybe he’d still want to shower with me now that it wasn’t a necessity. He never used to like people knowing, but Remy was always a very introspective person. Clinging to the notion that he’d simply gotten up early to sort out his thoughts left me feeling more optimistic and ready to stop cowering away in the safety of my bed.

  With one last mental pep talk, I carefully rolled out of bed, not bothering to remove the sling I’d slept in. After a quick stop in the bathroom, I found Remy sitting on the couch, clutching a coffee mug in both hands. His short hair was a mess, as if he’d been running his hands through it. I could picture him doing it, tugging too hard at the back as if the sharp pain would give him clarity. He hadn’t seemed to notice me until I was standing next to him and wishing him a good morning.

  His blue eyes turned to me, wild and unfocused for a beat before they softened with recognition. “Oh, hey. I didn’t hear you come out. I didn’t wake you, did I?”

  “You know you didn’t. Do you mind if I sit?”

  “Shit, sorry,” he said as he scooted toward the middle of the couch.

  I slid in next to him and was about to ask him if he’d eaten yet, when I noticed that there wasn’t any steam coming from his coffee. I took the mug from his hands, which were also cold. “Jesus, Rem, how long have you been sitting out here?” I rubbed my hands over his, ignoring how the action bit at my shoulder.

  “I must have lost track of time.” He shrugged, trying for nonchalance. “Had a lot on my mind this morning.”

  “Is this because of the other night?” Of course it is.

  “Kinda. Not really. I don’t really know.”

  “We don’t have to talk about it right now if you don’t want to, but I really think you should get warmed up…” I paused, my confidence fleeting. “Do you want to take a shower with me?”

  He cocked an eyebrow at that. “You don’t need my help with that anymore. Doc gave you the all clear, remember?” He was smiling, but it didn’t come close to reaching his eyes.

  I nodded, not quite ready to speak. I turned his hands in mine until they were palm up, and then stroked my thumbs over the undersides of his wrists. “I-I know that. I don’t want you to help me. I want you with me—like we used to be.”

  “Max—”

  “No.” I gave his wrists a quick squeeze so he met my eyes and would know that I was serious. “If you don’t want this, then tell me outright. Don’t make up excuses. I heard your terms loud and clear last night, and I still accept them. It’s okay if you’ve changed your mind, but don’t say no because you somehow think it’s what’s best for me.”

  I’d said it. Without the cover of darkness or drugs to give me a boost in confidence, I’d told him I wanted him. Not to the full extent, but it would have to be enough until he was ready for more.

  “Fucking hell. All right. You win.” The corners of his eyes crinkled before they settled on my mouth.

  I didn’t wait for him to change his mind. With more force than necessary, I pushed forward and crashed my lips to his in a kiss we’d both be feeling later. He tasted like bad coffee, yet it was somehow perfect and everything I needed. He moaned when my tongue grazed the roof of his mouth, and I echoed the reaction when he did the same to me.

  A low growl rumbled in my throat when Remy suddenly pushed me away, though he was forgiven a moment later when he settled in my lap. He fisted his hand in my hair and yanked my head back hard, then used his leverage to deepen our kiss. The sting of pain sent a jolt right to my cock, which was now half-hard. With only thin pajamas between us, Remy had to have noticed, and I knew he had a moment later when he ground his ass into my lap and smiled against my mouth.

  He nipped all over my neck and earlobes, already so familiar with all of the places that made me squirm most. I’d closed my eyes while he reacquainted himself with my sensitive spots, reveling in his smell and how good his touches and bites felt.

  He pulled back long enough for me to open my eyes and see the overwhelming need in his eyes peering into mine. His heavy gaze dropped from my eyes to my lips and back again so fast that I could almost convince myself that it had been involuntary. But I knew it wasn’t. Before I could stop him, he leaned into me and nipped and licked the scar on my upper lip.

  I wanted to come. I wanted to hide. More than anything, I wanted him. I shifted Remy to my left side, secured my good arm under his ass, and stood us up. He instinctively wrapped his legs around my waist, though his expression sobered.

  “Your shoulder!”

  “I don’t need two arms to carry you, love.”

  He buried his head in the crook of my neck and muttered, “Jesus fucking Christ,” while his hands found purchase around my neck and in my hair. “I’m going to kill you if you hurt yourself trying to be sexy.”

  “Trying?” I asked as I carried him down the hall. “I thought I was doing better than that.”

  He groaned. “Now you’re making cocky jokes? You’ve been spending too much time with Mac.”

  “Please don’t mention Macalister at a time like this.” I eased my hold on Remy and let him slide down to his feet. “I want to focus on only you.”

  “Okay, big guy,” he said before his lips gently pressed against mine. His fingers skilfully unfastened my shoulder sling, and let it drop to the floor. Instead of kissing me again or further undressing me, he studied my arm and shoulder, mapping out the dips and curves of the muscle. Fingers and lips traveled over my skin, the touches so light they almost tickled.

  The sloppy, frenzied groping from the living room felt like a distant memory while Remy lavished me in feather-light caresses that oversensitized my skin. When he had me on the edge of begging, he stepped back and turned the water on. I couldn’t drag my eyes away from him as he took off his clothes and stepped under the stream. As I stood transfixed by the beads of water flowing over every inch of his body, I was never more grateful to have transparent glass shower doors. The water made his tattoos look that much more stunning, and I wanted to trace each of them with my fingers—especially the roses on his back.

  “You comin’ in?” Remy flashed me a wolfish grin that had me shedding my pants like they were on fire.

  In four long strides I was pressed up against him under the almost-too-hot water. He turned toward me and slipped his arms around my neck, pulling me down for a lazy kiss. I let him lead as I wrapped my arms around his waist, pulling him closer. The glide of his slick body against mine had me on the verge of coming within minutes. When I tried to pull back and warn him, his grip on me tightened, holding me in place.

  Remy ground against my cock harder, but at the same slow, torturous speed until I shuddered and stilled as my orgasm nearly knocked me to my knees. Neither of us had remembered to turn on the fan, and the bathroom was small and didn’t take long to fill with steam. Between the steam and coming so hard, I was dizzy on my feet. Remy steadied me while he smeared my release over my stomach, then his own cock.

  “You’re so fucking sexy, Max,” he panted, stroking himself faster and faster.

  I wanted to taste him again, but my head was still spinning. Remy’s breathing picked up and he rested his forehead on my chest while his free hand was braced against the wall by my head. With nothing more than a strangled grunt, Remy’s release mixed with mine and slid down my stomach.

  Once he caught his breath, he scratched his fingers across my nape and chuckled.

  “What’s so funny?” I asked.

  He shook his head, brushing it against my chest, before pushing off the wall and looking up at me. “I was just thinking about those awesome cum-gutters you’ve got.” He trailed a finger over my abs then brought it up to his mouth and sucked. “We taste pretty fucking good. I’d offer you a taste, but I’m feeling kinda greedy right now.”


  I didn’t even try to respond. My cheeks burned, and it had nothing to do with the steam.

  “Yeah, I know you like it. You don’t have to say anything.” Remy pushed up onto his toes and kissed me. He took his time and made sure I got to sample the taste of us that lingered on his tongue. When he lowered back down to the tiles and moved away, I whimpered at the loss of him.

  “Relax. I’m not going anywhere. I got you all dirty—the least I can do is clean you up.” He winked at me while he rubbed the soap between his hands, working up a fragrant lather.

  The first touch was to my neck. He massaged the soap in so gently that I could have fallen asleep if not for the effort it took to remain on my feet. Warm, slippery hands smoothed down my shoulders, lighter on the right side. We’d done this many times before, though Remy had used a cloth before and had stuck to the places I couldn’t reach. This time was different. The way his hands smoothed over every inch of me almost felt reverent.

  I closed my eyes and let him have his way with me. Remy’s hands swept across my chest and stomach, down each of my legs, and even the soles of my feet, where he deliberately tickled me. I was still smiling from the tickle when he grasped my spent cock in one hand and twirled his fingers through my pubic hair with the other. A sigh rumbled in my throat, followed by a longer one when the hand in my pubes moved down to take hold of my balls. His slippery grip as he massaged them felt utterly divine. I wouldn’t get hard again so soon, but damn if it didn’t feel good regardless.

  I was so distracted that I didn’t notice his other hand had slipped back into my crease. A sharp gasp escaped me when Remy brushed his finger against my hole.

  “Nice to see you’re still so sensitive.” He pressed harder and I moaned, fisting his hair with both hands. “Turn around. I need to get the back.”

  Remy withdrew his hands, and I did as he’d instructed. He rose behind me and I heard him lathering up again before his hands gave my back and ass the same thorough attention he’d given my front. He’d even washed my hair, though I had to bend down when his arms got tired from reaching. When he finished with me, he booted me from the shower and quickly washed up. Watching him gave me a semi that I was able to—kind of—hide with the towel tied around my waist.