Chapter 87 Chapter 87
Amelia
My knees sank into the plush cushion of the executive couch, my body held in his strong arms. Max’s eyes, dark and hungry, never left mine as he lowered me. The thick, blunt head of his cock pressed against my slick opening, and I gasped, my fingers digging into the hard muscle of his shoulders.
“Come on, I love it when you ride me,” he growled, the words a hot whisper against my lips before he closed the final inch.
My body yielded, a slow, delicious surrender as I was impaled. My pussy stretched, burned, then melted around his incredible girth, swallowing him to the root in one smooth, breathtaking motion. A full, aching pressure bloomed inside me, so complete it stole my breath. “Fuck, you are so big, Max,” I moaned, the sound ragged and honest.
His answer was a sharp, stinging slap across my ass. The pain was a bright spark that instantly dissolved into a wave of pure, liquid heat, radiating from the point of impact to throb in time with my heartbeat where we were joined. A whimper escaped me, and instinctively, my hips began to roll, a slow, grinding circle that made him groan, his head falling back against the couch.
“Fuck me hard, babe.”
His command was all the permission I needed. My slow grind shifted. I rose up, feeling every glorious inch of him drag against my inner walls, then sank back down, faster this time. My blouse was an annoyance. His hands, big and impatient, fumbled with the buttons before tearing it open. My bra was pushed aside, and my breasts spilled free into the cool office air.
His mouth was on me in an instant, no gentle teasing. His lips closed around my left nipple, his tongue a rough, wet stripe across the peak before he sucked, hard. The sensation was a lightning bolt, a direct line of pleasure that arced from my breast to my clit to the deepest part of me clenched around his cock. A loud, wanton moan tore from my throat, my pace becoming frantic, a desperate, bouncing ride.
I needed more, I squeezed my inner muscles, milking him, and felt him shudder beneath me. He sucked harder, his teeth grazing the sensitive nub.
Then he took control. His hands, which had been caressing my back, clamped onto my hips with a firm, unyielding grip. He stilled my frantic bouncing, holding me immobile for a heartbeat. Then he drove upward.
His thrust was powerful, invasive, perfect. It hit a spot deep inside me that made stars burst behind my eyelids. “Fuccccck,” I yelled, the curse ripped from me as he set a brutal, piston-like pace, pumping into me from below. My nails scraped down his shirted back as I was reduced to a vessel of pure sensation, taking each deep, jarring stroke. The coil in my belly tightened, wound to a breaking point with every impact.
He kept going, his pace quickening, his breath hot and ragged against my neck. One hand slid around to palm my breast, thumb roughly circling my neglected nipple. “Fuck, babe, I love your cunt,” he groaned, the crude words feeding the fire. He thrust deeper, I was fragments of feeling, the slap of our skin, the creak of the leather couch, the guttural sounds he made, the overwhelming fullness.
My second orgasm tore through me without warning, a crashing wave that clenched my entire body. My pussy spasmed violently around his cock, a rhythmic, fluttering grip that milked him as I cried out. He bit down on my nipple, a sharp, possessive pain as his own climax hit. I felt him pulse inside me, a hot, liquid release that filled me, his hips jerking erratically as he emptied himself with a long, shuddering groan.
We collapsed together, a sweaty, breathless tangle. His cock, still semi-hard, remained buried inside me as we caught our breath, my forehead resting on his shoulder. The silence of the office was now filled with the sound of our panting.
After a long moment, his hand came up, gently moving the damp, tangled hair from my face. His voice was a low rumble. “How about I take you from behind now?”
I lifted my head, my body still humming, every muscle liquid. “We aren’t done?” I managed, my voice hoarse. “You know I still have work to do… and I need my legs to walk, too.”
A slow, predatory smile spread across his face. “I had work too, before you interrupted it. Maybe this will teach you a lesson.” He shifted, his arms tightening around me. “Don’t interrupt my job unless you have enough strength to take all of me.”
Before I could protest, he stood, lifting me with him. My legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, keeping him lodged inside me as he carried me across the office. He shouldered open the door to his private bathroom a sleek, marble affair and put me down on my feet before the vanity.
His hands were on my shoulders, turning me, pushing me forward until I was bent over the cold, hard counter. My flushed reflection stared back at me, eyes wide and dark with renewed desire. He positioned himself behind me, his hands gripping my hips.
He entered me in one smooth, deep stroke. I cried out, my hands slapping against the marble. This angle was different, deeper, more relentless. He set a punishing pace immediately, his body slamming into mine with a force that made the bottles on the counter rattle. The sound was obscene, the wet slap of flesh, his ragged groans, my choked whimpers echoing off the tiles.
He fucked me like he was exorcising a demon, each thrust a jolt of pure, animal pleasure. One hand fisted in my hair, pulling my head back, while the other reached around to rub furious, tight circles on my clit. The dual assault was too much. A third orgasm, sharper and more intense than the others, ripped through me. My knees buckled, my vision tunneling to nothing but sensation as I convulsed around him, a silent scream on my lips.
He followed shortly after, his release hot inside me once more, his body slumping over mine as we both shuddered through the aftershocks.
He was tender afterward, helping me clean up with a warm, damp towel, his touches gentle. Back in the office, he sat in his massive desk chair and pulled me onto his lap. I nestled against him, boneless and spent, my head on his chest. His fingers traced idle patterns on my arm.
The words were so soft I almost thought I imagined them. “I love you, Amelia.”
My breath hitched. I went utterly still for a second, then slowly lifted my head to stare at him, my eyes searching his for any hint of jest.
“I… I don’t know,” I whispered, my voice barely steady.
He didn’t let me finish. He gently shook his head and gave me a small smile. “You don’t have to say it back right now,” he said softly. “I’m not forcing you. I just want you to understand how I feel about you.”
I looked at him, confused and nervous at the same time. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t pressuring me, he just looked serious and sincere.
“I’ve thought about this a lot,” he continued. “And once all this drama around me settles down, I don’t want us to stay like this anymore. I think it’s time we move forward.”
“Move forward, how?” I asked quietly. “What do you mean?”
He took a slow breath before answering. “I mean I want to take this to the next level.”
“Next level?” I repeated, my heart beating faster.
He nodded. “Yes. I want to meet your parents properly because I’m serious about you.” His eyes stayed on mine. “And I want you to meet my parents too. I want them to know who you are and how important you are to me.”