Chapter 23

Chapter 23
Angie

Good.
That was the single thought she could muster.
Everything Max was doing just felt good.
He led her over to the couch, sat down and tugged her down into his lap, all while still kissing her. He kissed her until she ran out of breath, until she pulled back to gasp in oxygen, and even then, he still kissed her, only this time his mouth was on her cheek, her jaw, her throat.
She shivered when he traced his tongue across the tops of her collarbones, gooseflesh erupting all over her body.
“Oh,” she gasped when his tongue dipped into the low V of her dress.
He paused, brushed one finger across her cheekbone, and waited until she looked at him. “Hi,” he said, lips curving.
Angie sucked in a breath, trying to settle herself when every nerve in her body seemed to be on fire. “Are we doing this again?”
He cracked a smile. “Maybe.” He cupped her jaw. “You’re so beautiful.”
“I’ve never done this before,” she blurted and watched as his face clouded, as he started to pull back. It was only then that she realized how he’d taken her words. “No,” she said, cupping his jaw. “Max. I meant, I’ve had sex before”—with three people because she did not count the person who’d assaulted her in that number—“I just meant, I’ve never felt like this before. Never been this attracted, this attached so quickly. And I’ve never jumped into bed with a man this soon.”
His expression darkened. “We don’t have to do this,” he said. “It doesn’t have to be this soon. Let’s go to the movie, to dinner. Let’s spend some more time getting to know each other—”
She kissed him. “Don’t you see? For the first in my life, I’m not scared and sitting on the sidelines. I want to leap.” Her heart was pounding, but not from fear or anxiety. It raced because she wanted him.
“With you,” she murmured, shifting so instead of sitting sideways on his lap, she was straddling him. “I want to take that leap with you, Max.”
He swallowed hard. “You’re sure?”
“You silly, sweet, wonderful man.” Her smile was wide; she knew it was. But dammit, she just liked him so much. “I’m sure.” A pause. “But know that you still owe me a date at some point.”
His mouth quirked. “Deal,” he said. “And it needs to include the movie. Frankly, it’s a miracle that I’ve avoided spoilers this long anyway.”
She was unreasonably happy.
Well, not unreasonably since she was with Max, but still giddy and excited and—he shifted underneath her, the hard length of his erection beneath his pants the best kind of tease.
“Deal?”
“I can get behind that.” He raised a brow, and her cheeks went pink as she processed what she’d said. Rolling her eyes, she smacked him lightly on the chest. “You know what I mean.”
“Maybe.” He slid one hand down her spine then lower, cupping her ass and tugging her so she was flush against his cock. “Because I could also get behind this.”
Her heart skipped a beat, she bit back a moan.
Then another when his hand kept moving, drifting over the side of her hip, down to grip the outside of her thigh. Hot, hot fingers and his eyes—those gorgeous blue eyes—went liquid with desire.
“Max,” she breathed.
Those fingers shifted inward, and she inadvertently squeezed her thighs together, wanting them higher, wanting them to slip beneath her underwear and—
“I know,” he said, voice rough. “I know.”
“When do you—?” She cleared her throat. “When do you think you’re going to kiss me again?”
The words had barely crossed her lips before his mouth was on hers. This time, it wasn’t a gentle touch. It was demanding and intense and made moisture pool between her thighs. One second, she was turned on and the next, she was weak and shaky with need, desperate for him to be inside her.
She shifted, rubbing herself against his cock, making them both groan in pleasure. Her dress shifted up her legs, exposing the black silk of her panties.
“So fucking sexy,” he growled, tearing his mouth away and flipping her in a motion that was so quick she let out a little shriek. Somehow, she ended up with her back against the couch cushions, dress rucked up, legs spread wide, and Max kneeling between her thighs.
Holy fucking shit.
He kissed one ankle then the other, teasing his fingers up her calves, drifting to the backs of her knees. A nip to the skin just inside her left thigh that made her jump before his tongue darted out to soothe the small hurt, and then he was shifting, dragging his tongue higher and higher until he stopped just on the outside of her panties. He inhaled deeply. “I can’t wait to taste this,” he said and pressed a kiss against her pussy.
The slight roughness of the lace combined with the damp heat of his mouth sent Angie’s desire skyrocketing. She arched off the cushions, gripping Max’s hair with both hands, trying to grind closer, to let him taste her.
He steadied her with his hands on her hips, pinning her down onto the couch as he took his time, slowly kissing along the hem of her underwear, occasionally darting his tongue under the lace and teasing her with frustrating little caresses until she was all but ready to tear his hair out, if only that meant he would get his tongue inside her faster.
She pulled, and not too gently.
Max froze, not moving his mouth away from her, the heat of his breath against her pussy an entirely new type of aphrodisiac. He raised one brow.
“Underwear off,” she demanded, though the order was weakened by the fact that she was puffing like a locomotive, so she added, “Now.”
The smile he shot her should have melted the offending garment right off her thighs. Instead, the only thing it did was make her stomach flutter and more moisture pool between her legs. She could feel the slick heat of her starting to soak through her panties, and apparently Max could as well because he slid a finger over the top of her pussy then held up the glistening digit for her to see.
“So. Fucking. Hot,” he told her and sucked it into his mouth.
She’d shuddered at his touch, but when he tasted her? Yeah, that desire exploded, threatening to incinerate her from the inside out.
Rip.
Angie gasped, the abrasion of lace tearing against her skin made her squirm.
Rip.
Another inhalation and the show of strength as he effortlessly tore the other side had her spreading her thighs, lifting her pelvis toward his mouth.
He grinned, flicked his tongue out for the tiniest tease, and Angie thought he was going to keep on tormenting her, rationing out those little frustrating touches. But then he dove at her, pressing his mouth firmly against her pussy and giving her the best kiss of her life. His tongue circled her clit, firm then gentle, firm then gentle, bringing her higher and higher until he backed off, moving down and thrusting his tongue inside her. The pad of his thumb took over on her clit, and the slightly roughened callouses were a whole new form of torment.
And pleasure.
And torment.
“No,” she groaned, lifting her hips, wanting more, desperate for more. “I need—”
She broke off, so fucking turned on and yet not exactly knowing what she needed.
But Max seemed to know, even if she didn’t understand it herself, because he slipped a finger inside her, tongue and hand switching places, then moved both faster, more firmly until she was writhing on the couch desperate for release.
“Fuck,” she huffed. “That’s so—”
He slipped a second finger inside her.
She screamed.
He flatted his tongue and circled her clit.
And this time she couldn’t scream, the orgasm stole all her breath, took her ability to speak, to think, to do anything except ride the wave of pleasure all the way down the other side.
Her head plunked back against the couch cushions, white lights flashing behind her lids. “Fuck.”
“Mmm.” Max’s nuzzling made her jump, her eyes darting open.
He had the start of a beard, and the strands had darkened from . . . her.
The sight made that tremble start again, the one low in her stomach, in between her thighs, and her pussy clenched, satisfied and yet not. Because while the orgasm had threatened to burn her to ash, Max still wasn’t inside of her.
“My bedroom is just down the hall,” she said and not sure that she could navigate the distance in her heels, she bent to slip them off.
His hands gripped hers. “What are you doing?”
“Taking my shoes off.”
“They hurting you?”
She frowned, shook her head. Despite them being tall, they were one of the most comfortable pairs of heels she owned. “No.”
“Then leave them on.”
“Why—?”
The heat in his gaze stopped the rest of her question, and his rapid movement to sweep her up into his arms, pressing her firmly against his chest, the heat of him, the smell, the power stole any and all logical thoughts. Especially when he told her, “I want those heels digging into my back as I slide home, Angel. I want you to use them like spurs to prod me like a fucking horse as I pound into you. I want—”
She kissed him as he walked, kissed him as he pushed open the door to her bedroom, kissed him as he tossed her onto the mattress.
Because the words were so fucking hot, but they were also too much.
She needed him in her. Now. With less talking.
“Hurry,” she said when they finally broke for air and reached into her cleavage to pull out the condom she’d stashed there earlier. “Please, Max. I need you inside me.”
He took it from her and ordered, “Turn over.”
Angie didn’t even consider not obeying, she flipped to her hands and knees, not caring what position Max wanted to take her in, so long as she was taken. But instead of him pushing up her skirt and thrusting home, one palm pressed to the small of her back, coaxing her to lie on her stomach.
The cold metal of the zipper met her skin then started to slowly move down her spine, hot lips trailing in its wake.
“Max—”
“Shh,” he murmured. “We have all night.”
The zipper stopped just at the top of her ass, and he spread the fabric wide, running those roughened fingertips along her back, making her shiver for the umpteenth time, making her hips shoot up to grind against the hard length of him.
They both groaned at the contact, but Max didn’t stop touching her. Instead, he slipped the straps of her dress off her shoulders then gently began massaging the tight muscles along her spine.
“The condom,” she said. “You can just—”
“That condom isn’t going to fit me, Angel.”
“Wh—what?”
“Shh.” He chuckled and began kissing down her back, tugging her dress off as he went. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and the motion teased her nipples, abrading the hardened points against the cotton. Her breath caught, a moan escaping her lips.
Then the dress was sliding down her hips, over her ankles to land silently on the carpet.
“Angel.”
It was curse, benediction, and prayer all in one.
“Max. Please.”
“Patience, sweetheart,” he said, dropping his hands to her ankles and slowly massaging his way up.
“Are you”—a gasp as those fingers dipped between her thighs—“this focused on the ice?”
A nip to each cheek—and not the ones on her face. “More.”
She shuddered when he spread her legs wide and blew a stream of hot air on her center. “I don’t think I can survive more,” she said, legs trying to close against the wide berth of his shoulders.
His voice was wicked. “Oh, I think you can.”
Max licked her, she screamed, and he showed her that she could, in fact, survive more.