Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 94092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
We move quietly through the house and soon reach my room.
He locks the door and turns to me, his eyes dark, hungry, and steps closer. His strong hands frame my face, and his thumbs brush my cheeks. “We’ve been together all night,” he murmurs, his voice raw, trembling with need, “yet I still want you so bad it’s driving me fucking crazy.”
His words ignite me, a fire that consumes every thought, and I gasp, my hands gripping his wrists, anchoring myself to him.
His lips crash into mine, a ravenous kiss that steals my breath, his tongue sweeping deep, claiming me with a desperation that mirrors my own. I melt into him, my body alive, electric, my fingers digging into his shirt, pulling him closer. He tugs my tank top over my head, the fabric whispering to the floor, and his hands are everywhere—my waist, my breasts, his thumbs brushing my nipples, hard and aching, drawing a moan from my lips. My shorts follow, pooling at my ankles, and I’m naked, my skin flushed under his gaze, his eyes tracing every curve like I’m the only thing that exists.
“Let’s take a shower together,” he says quietly.
I laugh. “You’ve already showered.”
“You haven’t,” he says. “Plus, I’m counting on the water to drown out all the screaming that’s about to ensue.”
He doesn’t need to say any more to convince me. I follow him willingly as he pulls me toward the en-suite bathroom.
“Strip,” he orders, as he discards his T-shirt and jeans, and with his cock rigid and pulsing, he moves towards the shower stall.
I undress and watch as he cranks the shower, and steam curls thick around us, fogging the glass. As my panties drop, he pulls me under the spray. The hot water stings my skin in sharp contrast to the cool tile he presses me against.
Max’s lips press against my neck, warm and firm, sucking gently at the pulse racing beneath my skin. His stubble grazes me, a rough, tingling scrape that makes my breath catch, my head tilting back to give him more.
“I just can’t get enough of you,” he groans, his voice raw, low, vibrating through me.
It’s like a match to kindling, my body ignites under his words, his need. His hands grip my hips, fingers digging in, strong and sure, and he lifts me.
“Push your pussy into me. I want to feel your heat.”
My legs wrap around his waist, and my thighs squeeze tight as I arch into him. My open sex sticks to his stomach. He bounces me up and down, rubbing my sex against his stomach. I moan softly with the delicious sensation. Then he lowers me and I feel him—hard, ready, his cock throbbing against me, sending a jolt of fierce need straight through my core.
His eyes lock on mine. For a second, time hangs suspended. Water sluices over our bodies. He enters me with a sudden, brutal thrust that stretches me and completely fills me. The sensation is so intense, my gasp of shock fills the fogged glass enclosure. He pauses, buried deep, his breath hot and uneven against my ear, letting me feel his thickness, the urgent pulse of him inside me. His eyes never leave mine. It’s raw, overwhelming, the swift wet slide of him into me, his eyes watching me intently like a hawk watching its prey, and his large cock boldly claiming every inch of me. It’s intimate, unguarded, like we’re the only two people left in the world. All I want is to be his with every fiber of my being.
“Did I hurt you?” he asks.
My nails dig into his shoulders. “No, it felt good.”
With that, he pushes himself so deeply into me that my eyes roll to the back of my head. His hand moves to my breast, cupping it, his thumb brushing my sensitive nipple, sending a spark straight to my core. I whimper, my body arching, pressing into his touch, greedy for more. He thrusts again, violently. My mouth opens. This is new. This is the grown-up Max. And I like it.
“Never let me go,” I beg. I’m trembling with anticipation.
He growls. “Never.”
It’s a lie. It can never be anything but a lie, but I feel a lump in my throat. I love him. He is my warrior, my mate.
He fucks me then, hard and merciless, and my hips rock up to meet his, chasing the pleasure he’s pulling from me. The raw primal intimacy of it—his body in mine, his hands knowing every curve—undoing me. I understand what is going on. We’re not like other lovers. We haven’t got the time to say no rush, no fear of being caught. These stolen moments are all we’ve got, and he’s taking them, every gasp, every shudder, fucking me like there’s no tomorrow, because this, sadly, is all we’ll ever have.