by Len Webster
In the nine days since her mother had died, he had been gentle when he kissed her.
Soft pecks as if touching her would break her.
But this kiss was filled with so much love and passion that she was almost dizzy. This was what she needed to feel.
His love.
This was life again.
He didn’t stop.
It was as if she were his air and he was breathing her in.
Josie’s fingers relaxed, and she slid them up his chest to find the knot of his tie. She loosened it just as Max began to walk them towards her bedroom. With a little work, she managed to unknot his tie, and she pulled it away from his neck to fall on the hallway floor. Then he helped her remove his shirt, and it also made it to the floor in her lounge room as did her Mary Jane flats.
“Josephine,” he moaned into her mouth as her hands left his naked chest. She bent down, reaching for the hem of her dress. When she reached it, Max pulled away from her. The indecision in his eyes had her pausing. “What are we doing?”
Her fingers lost their grip, and she let go of her dress. “I thought—”
Max covered his face with his palms and let out a grunt. Then he lowered his hands and licked his lips. “Josephine, you’re still grieving, and I don’t think you’ve thought Berlin over properly. I don’t want to take advantage of you.”
Josie reached behind her and grasped her bedroom door handle. She let out a breath of air as she twisted it and pushed the door just a smidge open. “I am still grieving my mother. I don’t think I’ll be okay with her being gone for a long time. But I know deep down that she’s gone, Max. I want to feel again. I want to feel what we had before that Sunday. I thought Berlin through, and I don’t want to go without you. And you’re not taking advantage me. I want you. I need you. Please don’t take this away from me. I love you and want to be with you. I choose you, Maxwell Sheridan. You hear me? I choose you.”
“Josephine.”
“I didn’t have any other choice.” She bent her knees and grasped the end of her black dress again. Seconds later, she lifted it up and over her head. She let it fall to the floor, standing in only her black lace bra and underwear, and black stockings. The only colour that had been on her had been the pink rose pin that Stella had her wear. Max had one pinned to his shirt, but that had found its way to the floor earlier.
Max’s eyes remained on hers. He seemed torn. And yes, maybe she was being selfish, but she needed him. Needed the pain to go away. She wanted that pressure in her chest gone. She wanted his love to finally be hers. Josie slipped her fingers into the tops of his black pants and tugged him closer until his chest pressed to hers and her right hand curled around the back of his head, edging his lips closer to hers.
“Please,” she breathed. Her heart hammered in her chest as Max’s eyes drifted to her lips.
His hands found her hips as he whispered, “I love you, Josephine.”
Her heart clenched at his declaration. She wasn’t sure what it was about this I love you from him, but it was far more desperate. Filled with more pain and honesty. But before she could even think further about it, Max’s lips crashed to hers, and he walked her back into her room and kicked the door shut.
They became a mess of hurried fingers as they removed the remaining articles of clothing in their way.
Max had peeled Josie’s black stockings away ever so slowly.
Her bra and panties, gone seconds later.
When she was completely naked, she sat at the foot of the bed and watched him step out of his shoes, pull off his socks, and unbuckle his belt. He pulled it swiftly out of the loops of his pants. His eyes had met hers as he unfastened his black pants. He had pulled them down along with his underwear until he was naked. Josie’s eyes drifted down, taking in every ounce of perfection on his body. Max stepped closer, bent down, and cupped her face in his hands.
“I love you,” he whispered. “Are you sure you want this between us?”
Josie nodded. “I do. I need you, Maxwell. I need you like I miss you when you’re with me.”
His eye flashed with understanding, and he pressed his lips to hers, kissing her slowly and gently. Josie lifted her hand and wrapped her fingers around his hard length, pumping him in the speed of their kiss. Slow and full of need. As she tightened her grip to add more pressure, Max let out a groan, and it gave her the chance to slip her tongue past his lips to glide against his, taking them to another level.
“Josephine,” Max moaned as he turned away from her kiss, lost in the pleasure she gave him. “Fuck … fuck …”
Josie tightened her grip. Stroked his hard length faster. Then her lips found his in chaste kisses. Over and over as she watched him close his eyes and let out soft groans.
Then his hand shot down and wrapped around her wrist, stopping her hand’s strokes. “No, this isn’t about me,” he said as he opened his eyes.
“Max.” He shook his head and pulled her hand away from him. Then he stood and walked over to pick up his pants when she said, “No.”
“No?” He looked at her confused.
“I don’t want anything between us.”
Max’s lips parted as he returned to her, bending his knees so his eyes were level with hers. “I’m clean. You’re the only woman I’ve been with for almost a year.”
Josie reached out and set her palm on his jaw as her other hand combed his brown hair back. “I’ve never made love to a man without a condom. I’m clean, too. I’m also on birth control.”
His eyes widened. “But I haven’t seen you take—”
She shook her head with a smile. “I’m on the shot,” she corrected as she watched the muscles in his neck strain with the hard swallow he had just made.
“Josephine, I have to ask …”
“Yes?”
Max pressed his forehead to hers. “You won’t regret this once we’re finished? I think it might kill me if you do. I’d rather walk away now than be your regret. I don’t think I could stomach that. I don’t think I could live with myself if I ended up taking advantage of your current state.”
“No,” she breathed as pulled away from him and made her way to the middle of her bed. “No regrets, Max. I’m done living a life of regrets.”
He stared at her for a long moment before climbing on the bed. He covered her body with his, settling perfectly between her legs. She felt him hard against her core. She needed more than just contact. She needed relief. She needed him inside her. She needed to feel him this way.
Josie’s hand skimmed the side of his body until she grasped his bottom cheek and squeezed, urging him to take her. She bent her knees and tilted her hips, causing her to rub against him perfectly. The pleasure was so small but enough to leave her wanting and desperately needing more.
“Maxwell, I need more,” she pleaded.
He dipped his head, and his lips found hers, kissing her as if it were the first and last time. It was hard and soft. Tender and devilish. It was everything a kiss with passion and need should have.
Max’s hips flexed as he slid his hardness against her slit. She could feel how much she desired him. How much she wanted and needed him.
“Please,” she moaned desperately.
He was torturing her and loving her.
He was killing her and cherishing her.
His lips pressed against her chin and along her neck as he promised to make her happy.
Promised to make her feel loved as his face dipped lower to her chest, and he swirled his tongue over her peaked nipple. Over and over again. He licked and sucked and gently bit her. Then he moved over to her other breast and did just the same.
The ache in her was growing out of control as she began to meet the slide of his erection against her to further increase the pressure. The pleasure. Then he quickened his strokes. To get her to that high he was slowly building.
As if he knew she couldn’t take anymore, Max slid a hand between them, fisting himself, and aligned himself at her entrance.
He propped himself up on one hand as he lovingly gazed down at her.
He was panting. His chest rose and fell heavily. “I’ll make you happy, Josephine. I’ll make you so happy.”
“I know you will,” she agreed as she felt him slowly enter. It was difficult for her to keep her eyes open as he flexed his hips and inched farther and farther into her until he reached the hilt. They both let out relieved groans.
Max pressed his other hand by her head on the mattress as he held himself still. She knew he was letting her adjust. He was by far larger and thicker than any other man she had been with. But soon that burn began to fade into flutters of pleasure.
“Come back to me,” she whispered.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised as he dipped his head, and his lips found hers, kissing her the way she felt like she deserved to be kissed all her life. Her nails dug into his flesh as her left hand threaded through his hair.
It seemed like they were breathing each other in.
They were each other’s air as he kissed her deeply.
So deeply that she moaned, wanting so much more.
As if he sensed her need for more, Max slowly pulled out of her. It was so different having him bare. It felt more intimate. She felt more of him. Felt him throb against her.
It was raw.
It was love.
This was making love.
Max flexed his hips and entered her once again.
Josie tilted her head back and curled her toes, loving just how much he stretched her and filled her.
“Max,” she sighed.
It was too good.
Too much.
But not enough.
“Please make love to me. Please,” she said once she opened her eyes to find his on her.
He nodded. “Faster?”
“Please.”
His rhythm sped up.
But his thrusts weren’t animalistic.
They were perfect.
Again and again, he entered her.
His thrusts were long and hard and calculated.
His thrusts added to her pleasure as she continued to moan and cry out his name.
He knew how to love her right.
How to please her.
And satisfy her.
“Oh, God, Max,” she breathed. “Oh, God …”
Max got on his elbows and pressed into her again and again as he kissed her lips, her chin, and her jaw over and over.
“Fuck, Josephine!” he cursed as he increased his pace to reach euphoria.
“Max, Max, Max,” she said in pleas as she tilted her hips and met his thrusts, finding the perfect rhythm between them. “I can’t … Oh, God, I can’t. Oh, oh, right there. Yes, yes, yes!”
“Come for me, Josephine,” he urged once he moved his lips to her ear. His whispers had her closing her eyes, falling into pleasure without a care. “Fuck, you feel so good.”
Her orgasm was on the fringe of taking her over.
It was there.
His hips surged into her as his pubic bone brushed against the top of her core, adding to the pressure that was building and needed to explode.
“Max, God, I love you,” she moaned as her fingers dug into him. “I love you. I love you. I …”
“I love you,” he groaned. “Always will.”
“Yes … Yes … Oh, my God, Max. I’m gonna … come … Oh, God!”
“My La Vie En Rose.”
He had whispered the words to send her to euphoria as she reached her high.
Her orgasm completely swept through her as she withered against him and gasped for air. She was still coming when she felt Max throb inside her and he became harder. His muscles tensed, and she knew he was about to come.
“Oh, fuck, Josephine!” he groaned into her neck as he jerked, and she felt him release inside her. It was the first time a man had ever come inside her without a condom.
It felt so intimate.
And it felt so right with Max.
Berlin …
Max turned his head to find Josephine still asleep. They had made love twice before her exhaustion had her falling asleep midsentence. It was cute seeing her eyes fall closed as she lost her fight. She was tired. Today had been an emotional day for her. She had buried her mother. Them making love felt right, but it didn’t take away the nagging feeling in him that he let things go too far. That he should have waited longer. He should have been stronger and told her it was too soon. She had just buried her mother. She wasn’t in the right mindset. But he couldn’t. He saw her want and love and desire in her blue eyes. He saw her sadness and grief, too. But the moment she took off her dress, her true emotions were blocked by the flash of need for intimacy.
He was selfish.
Even though she said he didn’t take advantage of her, he felt like he had.
Max turned his body so he was on his side as he looked at her. It was the first time since her mother died that she seemed at peace. No tears escaped her. Josie said that she had picked him, but he saw it in her eyes. A part of her wanted to go to Berlin with her father. He knew she held some guilt over the things she said to her father after her mother had died.
He knew deep down that she had to go.
She had sisters she had always wanted to meet.
She had a relationship with her father she wanted to fix.
She wanted a family.
She had made a promise to her mother that she would try.
And he couldn’t be in her way.
“You have to go to Germany,” he said in a soft voice as he reached out and brushed her hair from her face. “I told you I’d make you happy, Josephine. I made that promise. You have to go without me.”
The tips of his fingers traced the side of her face as his heart inflamed in his chest.
It was about her now.
Not him.
“We can survive this,” he assured her. “I can survive you leaving because I know you love me. I can wait until you’re ready to come home.”
Max dropped his hand from her face and rolled over to get out of her bed. He gently got up and made his way to where his pants and underwear lay. Ensuring he was as quiet as possible, he slipped on his underwear and then his pants. He bent down and picked up his belt and threaded it through the loops of his pants. Buckling his belt, he let out an exhale and took a moment to watch her sleep.
She would need convincing.
When he woke her for dinner, he’d sit her down and tell her that if she wanted to live without regrets, she had to go. She needed to fulfil the promise she had made her mother before she passed. Max felt like he’d be letting her down in some way if he made her stay. Turning around, Max made his way to her bedroom door and grasped the handle. He paused for a moment, feeling his heart beat heavily and slowly.
It didn’t feel like rightness glowed in his chest.
He felt selfish for wanting to keep her here.
But he wouldn’t let her go.
He’d be waiting for her to come home to him.
With that thought, Max twisted the handle and let himself out of Josie’s bedroom. He gently closed the door behind him and proceeded to follow the line of their clothing, picking them up until he was in the hallway and collected his black tie from off the floor. Then he spun around and returned to the lounge room where he dumped everything on the leather couch. Max picked up Josie’s black dress, turned it outside in, and folded it neatly. He picked up her black shoes with short heels and set them on the floor. He grasped his shirt and threaded his arms through and buttoned it up. When his shirt was on properly, he rolled up one sleeve until it reached his elbow and then rolled the other.
He let out a sigh as he reached down, unbuckled his belt once again, and tucked his shirt in. As he walked out of the lounge room towards the kitchen, he fixed his belt back in place. When he reached the fridge, he pulled it open to find several things he had picked up yesterday from the store to cook. When Josie’s mother had died, she had days when she barely spok
e and spent all day in bed. Other days, he had to make sure she was up and fed. He didn’t mind cooking for her. In fact, he loved it. He just didn’t like when she would stare off into space like she was a million miles away. But as the days passed, she slowly became more aware. She’d even sit on the barstool and watch him as he prepared their food. And when Stella and West came home, it felt like they were a family when they were all together.
Max reached out and pulled out the plastic bowl where the chicken was marinading. It was a Sheridan family recipe. It was nothing special—honey, soy sauce, a squeeze of lemon, and a little chilli. The trick was keeping the chicken marinading for as long as possible, and changing the sauce at least twice. He stood straight and closed the fridge door. Max had become accustomed to Josephine’s kitchen. It wasn’t as large as his, but it felt homey and cosy compared to his with its sharp edges and harsh colours. It was nice. Made even better when Josie was in it with him. Max spun around and went rigid the moment he noticed Josephine in a white silk dressing gown with tears in her eyes.
It wasn’t regret and that had him feeling somewhat relieved.
Instead, it was an apology he saw consume those bright blues of hers.
“I’m so sorry, Max,” she cried.
His heart dipped.
“I have to go.”
It was everything he honestly didn’t want to hear, but everything he hoped he would. This was about her. She needed to go. As much as it would kill him, she had to.
Max let out a short breath, spun around, and returned the chicken to the fridge. Once he closed the door, he kept his eyes on the stainless steel fridge and took three deep breaths.
Parts of him knew he would lose her.
But other parts knew he had to put her needs above his own.
Max spun around, and the first thing he saw was her tears sliding down her face. He hated that she was crying—but his chest pooled with warmth that she cried for him. He walked towards her as she shook her head at him.
“I’m sorry,” she sobbed as he wrapped his arms around her. “I’m so sorry, Max.”
“Hey,” he said softly as he rested his cheek on top of her head.
Her arms circled around his waist. “Why aren’t you mad?”