Chapter 137 Thunder, Sweat, and the Slow Burn
POV Adrian:
A few days later.
Things are far too natural. I don’t know what trouble that redhead is, but being with her is easy—no complications. If she likes something, she tells us that very second, just as she curses us if she doesn’t. Not to mention how she can tell Mikhail and me apart with her eyes closed. I proved that yesterday, when I tried once again to pass myself off as my brother while she had her eyes shut, doing her facial detox.
I still don’t know what that means.
I spoke to her exactly the way Mikhail does—even used the same words my brother sometimes mixes up—but it didn’t work. Maya told me, still with her eyes closed, to keep trying. Maybe someday I’d get lucky and fool her.
I took that as a challenge.
Maya is taking up far too much space in our lives. It’s impossible not to think about her when I wake up, just as it’s impossible not to think about her before I fall asleep, imagining what she’ll get up to the next day. She’s a woman who drives us crazy with her strange habits, who challenges us every second with her nose in the air, but she’s also the woman who cares enough to ask how our day was, who sits with us to watch horror movies that I know she’s afraid of, yet still stays by our side talking through the entire movie, saying how stupid the characters are.
I smile, remembering when she got into a debate with Luca and Mikhail, saying it’s bullshit that in horror movies it’s always the slutty ones who die first, that it’s unfair. My brothers teased her, saying she’d be the first to die, and she pouted, agreeing—because she’d be one of the actresses with her breasts out when the killer showed up to kill her.
I keep carving the horse she asked me for yesterday. I didn’t understand why she specifically wanted a horse, but I didn’t question it and told her I’d make it. While I work on the horse, I watch her doing jumping jacks. She’s very committed to increasing her stamina—especially because Luca said that until she can handle having five orgasms without passing out, neither he nor any of us will touch her. She called him every name imaginable and said that’s no way to treat her and her pussy.
“What do you think, Lou?” I show the finished horse to the dog lying in my lap. All he does is sniff the carved wood and snort. “How rude. I don’t criticize your clothes—I even compliment how stylish you look. Would it kill you to support me too?”
Louis doesn’t even bother looking at me and closes his eyes again. He’s like this because of Maya—I’ve already said she spoils him too much. It’s not right; children need boundaries.
I admire my newest work and don’t notice the troublesome redhead approaching. Maya stops in front of me, panting, her face flushed—clear proof of her dedication to exercising.
“I’m dead,” she says, drinking from her fluorescent orange bottle. “Oh my God!” she yells, and I almost fall off the chair. Louis jumps out of my lap and runs into the house; the poor thing looked scared. “Did you finish my Thunder?”
She screamed just because she saw the finished horse? Unbelievable.
“Your Thunder?” I ask, curious.
“Yes, that’s his name,” she says excitedly, and I smile at her spontaneity. “You’re wonderful. Look how perfect this is!”
I feel shy at her praise. It’s just a hobby—I don’t plan on making a living from it. Without warning, she jumps into my lap, covering my face with kisses. She really loved the horse. That makes me happy. I like how her eyes shine as she looks at the wooden horse in her hands.
“Adrian, you need to sell the amazing things you make,” she says, and I immediately shake my head.
“It’s just a pastime. Nothing more than that.”
“Don’t even try that. This is a talent few people have. I fully support you opening a carpentry shop. I can already imagine a whole house furnished with your pieces,” she says excitedly, and for a second I catch myself wondering if I could dream that big.
No. Definitely not.
“How much is it?”
“How much for what?” I ask, wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling her sweaty body closer.
“What do you mean, for what?” She waves the horse in front of my face. “I want to pay you for your work.”
“It’s a gift, Maya. I won’t accept any money,” I say firmly, and there it is—that pout on her lips. “And don’t even try using that pout on me.”
“You’re annoying,” she says, carefully placing the horse on the table before turning back to me. “And a kiss—can I give you one?”
“Of course you can,” I say, and she doesn’t hesitate to press her lips to mine.
I squeeze her waist, welcoming her eager tongue. The thank-you kiss quickly turns into much more. Maya sucks on my tongue while grinding in my lap, driving me crazy. I haven’t touched her since that day by the pool, and I’m losing my mind wanting to take her in every possible way. The troublesome redhead doesn’t make it easy, teasing us every chance she gets.
I slide my hand down, grabbing her ass, making her rock back and forth. I kiss her neck, using my mouth to touch every bit of skin I can. Her moans soon fill the room, making me even harder, wanting to fuck her right here, in the small room we use as storage.
“We should stop,” I say, but I can’t pull my mouth away from her body.
“We should keep going,” she says breathlessly.
I stand up, holding her in my arms, and set her down sitting on the table. I position myself between her legs, never stopping touching her—I need to feel her. I grab the hem of her top and pull it off; she quickly does the same with my shirt. I move in on her breasts, taking one into my mouth and sucking hard, making her moan my name. I switch breasts, sucking the other even harder, wanting to leave my mark.
“Adrian… fuck… don’t stop.”
I smile, enjoying how crazy I make her with my tongue. The salty taste of her sweat contrasts perfectly with the sweetness of her skin. I trail my tongue over her torso, draw a wet line down to her navel, sucking and marking her pale skin. I pull back, looking at the red marks on her belly and breasts. I like what I see.
“You look beautiful with my mouth marks on your skin,” I say proudly.
I grab the sides of her shorts and pull them down along with her pink panties. I spread her legs, exposing her little pussy to me. I fix my eyes on the small swollen nerve, admiring for a few seconds the triangle of red hair. Then I lower myself and bury my nose there, wanting to inhale her scent. I groan in appreciation as the sweet aroma of her arousal fills me.
Using my fingers, I spread her outer lips, exposing everything to me. Her clit is red and swollen, her pussy winking under my indecent inspection, and I smile proudly, seeing how slick she is for me. I stick out my tongue and lick her. I start with slow, subtle licks—I want her begging for my mouth. I gently suck her clit, making her writhe, and place my hand on her belly, keeping her still.
“Adrian…”
I keep licking slowly, in no rush. I want to savor her, taking my time, enjoying every second of her taste, letting her moans be music to my ears.
I could do this all day.