An Ounce of Hope (A Pound of Flesh #2)

by Sophie Jackson

  Max opened his eyes when a low moan echoed around him.

  “Jesus, O’Hare,” Grace gasped. “You don’t mess around, do you?”

  “You mean . . . you like the sound of that?”

  She bit her lip, dropped down next to him, and pushed her underwear off. Max kept his eyes on hers, even though he was nearly turning himself inside out with the need to see her fully naked. They breathed together, watching the other tenderly before Max spoke.

  “You can get on whenever you’re ready,” he said. A burst of nervous laughter erupted from her, relaxing Max further. He knew he had to assure her, make her comfortable, but he continued to find himself fumbling. Fuck it, he was like a damned virgin, jumpy and about ready to come at the mere hint of a pair of spread legs.

  “Stop,” Grace said softly, placing a hand over his racing heart. “Stop overthinking it. I’m okay.” She leaned over then, placing a soft, chaste kiss on his cheek. “I’m supposed to be the intimacy nutcase here, not you.”

  Max lay back. “In that case, have at me.”

  She lifted gradually, every movement steady, every shift of her body measured. She was fucking breathtaking to look at. She gripped the wrought-iron headboard and glanced at Max, her brow furrowing. She opened her mouth to speak.

  “Don’t,” Max said quietly. “Please. You’re fine. You look incredible.” She raised her leg and dropped down so that she was straddling his chest and Max got a fucking epic view of every part of her, bare and perfect. He ran his palms up her thighs, to her waist, and back again, keeping his touch light so as not to panic her. “Come here. Let me taste.”

  Grace moved over him and, when his lips finally met the ones between her legs, Max was sure he saw fucking stars, and, oh, holy fuck, she was wet. Soaked. He groaned. Unable to be patient, his tongue slid against her clit, garnering from her a squeal of gibberish and a jump of surprise.

  “Max! I— Oh.”

  Grace’s hips swiveled and lifted, as though the feeling was too much, but Max held her legs softly, coaxing her body to ease against him, humming against her flesh. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

  Her taste was fucking exquisite, creamy, and sour in all the right ways. Max hummed against her swollen clit and lathered every inch of her with his mouth. Grace writhed and moaned loudly. His rapid and willing tongue finally disappeared inside her, becoming a part of her, pulsing into her tightness with every surge and dip of her hips.

  Shit, she smelled fantastic, too; the subtle hint of cocoa butter, along with the scent of her when they ran, set him alight. A deep sound from her throat came again when Max kissed her skin, letting his eager tongue and lips glide over her. He teased her clit between his lips, gently grazing her with his teeth, causing her to call out.

  While his mouth tasted, his hands moved slowly across her stomach to the hips that were moving in figures of eight, driving him fucking insane. He gripped them gently and pushed his mouth firmly against her. An exquisite groan escaped her, forcing Max to do it again. He opened his eyes to see that her head had fallen back, her black hair spilling down her back, tickling his stomach when he breathed in. Max brought his hand up and stroked Grace’s neck, feeling the thrum of her pulse under his gentle fingertips. She panted his name, spurring his tongue on until she was riding his face just as he’d hoped, thrusting and shuddering above him.

  Grace’s hand appeared suddenly, grabbing his hair and pushing his face harder against her. The fact that she wanted him this way, that she was enjoying it and wanted more, made Max’s cock twitch between his legs.

  Jesus.

  “I’m— Oh, God!”

  Fuck, Max had almost forgotten what it was like to hear a woman beg, plead, come on him, because of him. He sucked and licked, dipping his tongue into her again, softly at first, gauging her reaction, before he pushed it harder, feeling her body give to him, open up to him, welcome him with open fucking arms. His own body pulsed and wept as he feasted, his pulse thundered in his ears, and, when Grace began to cry out, he wished to all hell that he could see her face clearly as she came.

  “I can’t—it’s . . . Yes, oh. Yes!” she chanted, bucking and crying out as she exploded on his lips.

  He pushed his face farther into her, crying out for more of the wetness that drenched his mouth and chin. She laced her fingers together at the back of his head and held him to her body.

  “Fuck,” he mumbled into her flesh, while his eyes rolled back into his skull.

  As the pulse of her orgasm resonated through his tongue, he lapped up everything she gave. It was fucking glorious. The aroma of her and the feel of her sopping skin was almost enough for Max to lose his damned mind. Grace panted and cursed softly until, unable to take any more, she moved back off his face, now slick with her orgasm, and slid, somewhat awkwardly, to her side of the bed.

  Max blew out a long breath, licked his lips, and wiped the back of his hand across his face. Her smell was all around him and he allowed himself a couple of quiet heavy-breathing-filled moments to bask in it. His cock thrummed and jerked, aching for relief, but Max resisted touching, waiting for Grace to say or do something. He looked over to see her face covered in her hair. The parts of her that he could see through it showed a serene smile, which pulled his mouth into one of its own.

  “You all right?” he asked quietly.

  She nodded, still smiling.

  “You coherent?” She shook her head, making Max laugh. “Then my work here is done.”

  When she neither moved nor spoke, he lifted his upper body from the bed and reached for his clothes and underwear, which were stuffed between the pillows he’d thrown. Once again, he was stopped by Grace’s hand on his arm.

  “Where you going?” she asked, her voice sexily hoarse from her cries despite her expression, which, once she’d brushed back her hair, Max could only describe as confused and maybe a little hurt.

  “Hey, I’m not running out on you.” He glanced down at himself. “I was, um, going to clean up, then head home to take care of this.” He waved a hand at his twitching crotch. He smiled. “I just thought you’d want to—”

  “I want to make you come, Max. I want to try what you said, you know— Can I?”

  Well, couldn’t he just leap with joy hearing those fucking words?

  “But . . .” Max cleared his throat, lying back. “Not that I’m not fucking ecstatic by the mere idea of you being my own personal cowgirl, but are you sure?”

  Grace cocked an unimpressed eyebrow and pursed her lips. “Max, you just gave me the first orgasm I’ve had with another person in the room in a very long time. You’ve helped me get over the hurdle of years of self-consciousness and fear by”—she looked at his mouth, her eyes dilating further—“doing that amazing thing with your tongue. I mean, how the hell did you do that with the . . . you know, the way you . . .”

  Pride rushed through him at the thought of his truly making her feel good and finding her just about the most adorable thing ever.

  She gathered herself, taking a deep breath. “Please, Max. I want to repay the favor. Will you let me?”

  Max held up his hands. “Okay. Okay,” he deadpanned. “I suppose I can manage that.” He laughed when she shoved him playfully, before lowering his voice and staring at the space between her legs. “I guess I’ll just have to let you ride my cock.”

  She licked her lips. “Do you have . . . something?”

  “In my wallet.” Max motioned toward his shorts and watched as Grace leaned over him to grab them. Unable to help himself, Max sat up and, holding her by her thighs, nibbled his way across her ass cheeks.

  Grace startled. “What the—?”

  “Fuck, your ass is insane,” he moaned, licking and biting gently.

  “You’re insane,” she teased lightly, shooing him away and sitting back up. She held the foil packet out to Max and watched as he tore it open. She noticed his pointed look as he held the latex above his cock. “I’m fine,” she murmured, her face soft and gorgeous, th
e determination faltering ever so slightly. “I want to at least try.”

  Max exhaled. “We stop immediately if you’re not happy doing this, you got me?” Her gaze stayed on his hands as he rolled on the condom. “You’re in charge. We go as fast or as slow as you want.”

  She nodded and moved toward him, straddling his thighs, and fingering his balls as if she’d never seen a pair before. Not that Max minded. Christ, if she kept going they’d have no need to go any further. He’d bust a nut right then.

  “Gracie,” he whispered.

  “I love it when you call me that.” She glanced up at him through her lashes. “Can you . . . can you help me—”

  “Whatever you need,” he preempted, holding a hand out, which she took. He squeezed her fingers between his as she lifted and wrapped her other hand around his cock, guiding him to her. Max’s chest burned as he held his breath, watching. The tip of him swiped over her gently, pulling a husky moan from them both. Their eyes met and Max’s breath shook from him.

  “I’ve got you,” he murmured, and lifted his hips ever so slightly, pushing against where he was desperate to be.

  “I know.” Grace lifted her face toward the ceiling, eyes closed, bottom lip between her teeth as she released his cock and allowed her weight to pull her down onto it. Max groaned, watching himself disappear into her, her body enveloping every inch of him, gripping him so fucking tightly he could barely stand it. Fuck, how long had it been? She sat on him, quiet and breathing steadily, adjusting herself with minute shifts of her hips that shot blazing heat through every inch of Max’s body.

  “Jesus,” he managed through gritted teeth, his eyebrows meeting above his nose as he grimaced. “Are you okay?”

  “Mmhm,” she hummed in response. “Max, it . . . you feel amazing.”

  Max clenched his eyes shut, gripping her with one hand and the bedsheets with the other. “Move,” he pleaded. “For the love of God, please move.”

  Max felt her body trembling above him before she slowly moved her hips in a way that lifted her from him. He grunted when he saw the light from the window glint off the wetness Grace’s body had left on the condom. She didn’t lift too far before she dropped back down, patient and, Max had to admit, insanely hot. Her body embraced his, squeezing him as though it was fucking delighted to have him there. She gasped when he tilted his hips at the same time she sank down, pushing even farther into her.

  “That’s it,” he murmured, his brow breaking out in a sweat with the effort it took not to slam up faster. “You feel so good.”

  “Yes,” she gasped. “God. I’d forgotten, I— Oh, you fill me.”

  “Fuck, Gracie,” Max replied, gritting his teeth at the same time he thrust gently. “Keep going.”

  Max breathed deeply out his nose as she found her rhythm, rotating her hips, lifting and dropping. She fucked him slowly, but Max couldn’t have cared less. Watching her take her pleasure from him was more than enough to have his orgasm gripping his stomach and tightening his thighs. She released his hand and placed her palms on his chest, pushing against him as she increased her speed. Max’s grip immediately found her hips. Their eyes met for a split second, his seeking out her permission to hold her that way. She smiled her consent—she was fine, her gaze whispered—and groaned when the slap of their flesh meeting echoed around the room.

  He pressed his head back into the pillow, elongating his neck, closing his eyes, and allowed his body to accept the pleasure Grace was conjuring from him. “Tell me you’ve thought about this,” he grunted.

  “Yes,” she answered. “So much.”

  “Tell me,” he repeated, arching his back as she dropped onto him again. “How?”

  “At the cottage on the tree trunk, at the bar where people can hear us, see us.”

  “Fuck yes,” Max replied, heat flashing through him at the mere thought of people hearing her scream his name.

  “In the shower,” she continued, moving faster. “In my kitchen on the countertop, on my sofa, against the window so everyone can see what you do to me. In your truck while you drive.”

  “Goddamn,” Max gasped, struck dumb by the words leaving Grace’s panting, wet mouth. Her fingernails pinched his stomach, ripping a moan from his chest and sending his hips up quickly.

  “More,” Grace whimpered. “Please more.”

  Max complied, pushing harder, digging his heels into the duvet and driving his cock deeper, faster, his knees pressing into her perfect ass, until the bed began to creak and the room grew hot, stifled with their fucking and the sounds that erupted from them with little warning. Max lost himself in Grace’s heat, her soaked flesh, her grabby hands, and her calls out for more. He watched her unfurl before him, her timid, quiet exterior crashing around them on the bed, revealing a tigress, a sexual creature incapable of being anything but wild and wanton. She was a fucking vision. She rode him and pulled from him every ounce of exquisite feeling he thought himself able to possess.

  His hands moved to her waist as he thrust deeper, eliciting a scream from the depths of Grace’s throat.

  “Yeah?” he grunted. “Am I hitting it right? Right there, Gracie?”

  “Shit,” she exclaimed, her head bobbing, her neck unable to hold it up as Max fucked her.

  With his eyes fixed on hers, Max drove up. Again. Again. Thrust. Pause. Thrust. Pause.

  Christ, she felt so fucking good. She enveloped him like a second skin, snug, perfect, slick, and warm. He pushed farther into her, making her breath catch.

  Again. Again.

  Feeling his body start to take over, Max gripped Grace’s hips tighter. He held on, feeling the muscles in his forearms and shoulders pull and cord with every thrust. She moaned again as her knees squeezed his sides. With a deep moan and a series of strong slaps of his thighs against her ass, Max watched Grace above him, bouncing gloriously.

  “Don’t stop,” he ordered before his throat began to bark out incomprehensible sounds and words.

  He held her. He held her so tightly, as she moved. But she never panicked, she never told him not to. She took every thrust, every shove of his body into hers. She looked sensational with her head thrown back, neck elongated, and her tits begging for his lips. Unable to resist any longer, Max sat up with a moan and sucked her hard nipple into his mouth, and hummed into her soft skin when she bucked against him.

  Grace cried out. “More.”

  He gave her more. She wrapped her arms around his neck, as she wound her pelvis in a luscious circle that nearly made him lose his damned mind.

  “Close,” he croaked as his hips started to piston upward, lifting her knees from the mattress. His orgasm was building, deep in his balls, stretching to his stomach.

  Feeling all his energy start to push down into his groin, Max fell back onto the pillows, watching in breathless wonder as Grace continued to pull it from him. She lifted and fell, she demanded and begged, she swiveled and clenched, she thrust and grasped until, with a furious roar, Max exploded into her.

  His back arched and his neck corded with its strength. “Holy fuck!”

  Bright lights blinded him, as his body twitched and shivered.

  Grace continued to ride him, moaning as his cock twitched inside her, relief seizing Max from his head to his feet, as waves of euphoria crashed over him until he couldn’t take it. He held Grace fast, stilling her movements, moaning at her to please, God, stop. The small part of his brain that remained in his skull and wasn’t splattered on the ceiling like the rest of it grimaced when he realized Grace hadn’t come again.

  Her small body eventually collapsed onto his chest, and he immediately felt her pulse as it raced under the delicately soft skin of her spine. Max’s limp arms held her, spent and breathing heavily. He was exhausted, mentally and physically, and his eyes closed briefly of their own volition, despite his attempts at keeping them open.

  Still panting and with his heart doing laps behind his ribs, he patted her back gently. “Can you—? I need to get rid of this.
”

  Sweaty and glorious, Grace placed her hands on his chest and lifted her body slowly. Max gripped the base of the condom, hissing at the friction, and sat up as she plopped down at his side. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  Washed up, buck-ass naked, and feeling pretty damned great, Max strolled back into the bedroom to find Grace sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed wearing a large black T-shirt that covered every fantastic inch of her. “Spoil sport,” he teased, smiling. He kneeled beside her and moved his hand between her legs, seeking out her clit. Grace’s fingers on his wrist made him pause.

  “It’s all right,” she whispered, her smile dopey and gorgeous. “Honestly.”

  Max’s hand dropped to the bed with a thump. He sighed and reached for his underwear. “If you’re sure,” he muttered, pulling on his boxer briefs, glancing at her surreptitiously for any sign of freak-out or regret. To his relief, he saw none.

  She watched him as he dressed. “You’re superthorough, huh?” Max looked at her questioningly. She looked pointedly toward the bathroom. The condom.

  “Yeah, well,” he replied, sitting down to put on his shorts. “We don’t want any accidents. Believe me, they happen.”

  “Christopher was an accident?”

  Max swallowed at the sound of his son’s name. “He wasn’t planned.”

  “But you and Lizzie, you both wanted him, right?”

  Max paused, keeping his eyes on the floor. “Yes. Yes, we both wanted him very much.”

  “But you’d never consider having kids again?” Grace’s voice was soft. “Ever?”

  Max yanked on his shorts, leaving them undone, and adjusted himself on the bed, sitting with his back against the headboard. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly, his fingers trailing a path through his hair. “I . . . I couldn’t go through that again.” His heart twisted in his chest. “Seeing the person you love shatter like that.”

  Grace moved closer, the smell of their sex wafting around them as the blankets moved, conjuring an interested pulse from Max’s cock despite the topic of conversation. “What happened with Christopher was tragic, Max, but it’s also rare.” She squeezed his hand. “You shouldn’t close yourself off to the possibility—”