She was so very hungry for real.
More even than pastries.
“Don’t hold back,” she said.
Because she had a feeling he would try. She had a feeling he would try, and she didn’t want him to. Didn’t want him to be able to.
She wanted him to be as lost as she was. Utterly and completely, in the madness of this sensual haze. In this dark intensity of need.
She pushed his shirt and jacket from his body, leaving him naked from the waist up. The moonlight shone over his muscles, and she could see that he was indeed a weapon. A lethal, masculine weapon filled with great and terrible beauty. It was exactly the sort of beauty that she coveted. For it was frightening and made her heart stutter, but it also made her feel strong. Safe.
And she was a warrior woman in a red dress made of armor, and whatever they were about to do, the battle they were about to engage in, the war for pleasure, she knew they were both going to be well able to withstand it.
She unzipped her gown, let it fall down to the floor, and suddenly she felt vulnerable. Standing out there naked in the moonlight. Wearing nothing more than a pair of red lace panties that scarcely covered anything.
She was bare to him.
His hands moved to his belt, to the closure on his slacks, and he took the rest of his clothes off. Even in the dim light, she could see that he was thick and strong, larger than she had imagined a man might be there. But it also thrilled her. Because she was not afraid of this. She had withstood a great many things. Had endured atrocities she had not wished to endure. And this was her choice.
A great mystery of life that had not been taken from her forcibly, something she had always been grateful for. And she was choosing it. Here with this man who made her wild with desire. Who made her feel something better than normal.
And then that big, warrior man knelt down before her, and she found his strong arms wrapping themselves around her waist and lowering her slowly to the stone bench as he leaned in, pressing his mouth against the needy heart of her, lapping at her with intensity that gave no quarter to her inexperience. Just as he had warned.
She did not have the time to express shock. She could only hold tightly to his head as he feasted upon her. As the aggressive strokes of his tongue pushed her to that promised place that had been created in her with the touch of his lips to hers.
Then he pushed a finger deep inside of her, stroking at her core, at a place inside of her that incited a riot of need. The invasion was foreign, but wonderful, and when he added a second finger, she gasped. It was too much, but it couldn’t be. For if she hoped to have that most masculine part of him inside of her, she would have to get used to this.
And quickly, she did. Quickly, the intrusion, the friction, became welcome, as he lapped at her more firmly with his tongue.
And then little ripples began to spread inside of her. Her need growing, opening up. Expanding, until she was made almost entirely of it. Until she thought she might die of it.
And then he sucked that sensitized bundle of nerves into his mouth, the suction making her crazy. Causing her pleasure to break over her like a wave. She cried out, her legs draped over his shoulders, her heels digging into his back. And she didn’t care if anyone heard. She cared about nothing. Nothing but this.
And then he was there. She was still seated on the edge of the bench, the thick head of his arousal pressing against her. He gripped her behind and impaled her with his length, and she gasped, the searing pain she felt a shock, particularly on the heels of such great pleasure.
But he didn’t stop.
He thrust into her like a mad animal, his teeth scraping against her collarbone.
And somewhere, in the pain and uncertainty, a thread of pleasure began to wrap itself around both, binding them up. Until she couldn’t tell which was which. Until she couldn’t make out what was him, what was her. What was pain, what was need. Until they were both made of stars. And she could tell when he reached the edge, when he began to shatter as she had done. “Come for me,” he growled, and just like that, she did. Just like that, she broke again.
Only a moment before she had been consumed by the amount of unknowns in the world. By how adrift she felt. By how not her she was.
But lying there, sprawled indecently in the darkness of the garden with Maximus inside of her, she felt like she had an answer.
She did not know what it was for.
But as she held on to him, she felt rooted to the earth.
Grounded in a way she could not remember ever feeling before. And it was...a revelation.
“I’m sorry,” he said, gruff as he removed himself from her.
“Don’t,” she said, feeling like she was made of spun glass. Not sure if she loved or hated it. “Don’t apologize.”
“Why not?” he asked, his shoulders tight, his whole body gone stiff like a stone.
“I don’t want you to. I don’t want you to apologize. It was wonderful.”