Stout (Men of Lovibond 2)

I suck her earlobe into my mouth and gently tug on it with my teeth. “Tell me who you belong to, Max.” I stroke my hand in a circular motion between her legs. “Who does this belong to?”

“Only you.” Her voice is barely audible.

“That’s right. And I want what’s mine. Right now.”

I release her hair and move my hands to the button and zipper on her shorts, yanking them open. “I’m going to have your pussy as often as I want. And you’ll come every time I do.”

“Please. That’s what I want. What I need.” That’s what a man wants to hear. That’s what I need to hear.

I push her shorts and panties down her legs. “Take off your shirt and bra and then turn around. I want to see every inch of you.”

Full, perky tits. A narrow waist. Hips with curve. An ass with volume in it, one I can grip without worry I’ll break her delicate bony body in half.

Stunning.

I pick up a strand of her hair and twirl it around my finger. “You’re fucking gorgeous.”

“Lots of guys don’t like the pale skin and red hair.”

“All dumb fuckers.” So fucking stupid.

She is sexy.

She is confident.

She is mine.

I grasp her hips and steer her so she’s facing the bed. “Get on your stomach, Max.”

No turning back now. And I don’t want to. I plan on having every part of Adelyn Maxwell, including her heart.

Adelyn Maxwell

I climb onto the bed, facedown, and wait for Oliver’s next move. Next command. I’m excited to see how this plays out. How he reacts to being given the power to control me. Handle me with a firm grip. Fuck me with force.

My clit aches just thinking about it.

Chords of electric guitars resonate in the room and I immediately recognize “Turn the Page” by Metallica. Classic heavy metal. Screaming guitars. Drums. Slow tempo but nothing sweet or romantic about this music. I love this rendition.

It’s loud enough no one would ever hear my screams. And we’re going to fuck to it.

Oliver’s hands grasp each of my ankles and push my legs apart so they’re in a wide V. Can you say spread-eagle?

The bed dips between my legs with his weight before he crawls over my back. Skin on skin. I love the feel of his warm body against mine.

He grips my wrists, pushes them over my head, and allows his body weight to press against me. “You want this? To be fucked from behind while I hold you down? Movement restricted?”

He can’t imagine how much I want that very thing. “Yesss.”

“I’ll do it. But I’m going to make you orgasm first.”

“Please.” I want to come so bad. Need it.

He releases my wrists and kisses my shoulder. “I think I should use my mouth to make you come.”

My clit clenches. I’m dying for him to lick me the way he did two weeks ago. I want it fucking now. “Yes, Thorn. I want you to so badly.”

Oliver glides a finger through my folds. “So. Fucking. Wet.” It’s a fair statement to say I’m a little eager.

He fingers me from behind, grazing my clit, but it’s that bundle of nerves just inside my opening screaming for his attention.

“Get on your knees. Head down.” Don’t have to tell me twice.

I don’t need to hear the words to know what’s coming. But he says them anyway. “I’m going to eat your sweet pussy like this.” Yes, please, and thank you.

All those warm fuzzy tingles swirl in my lower abdomen. I call them orgasmic precursors. My body’s way of getting ready to receive whatever Oliver is about to give.

He kisses a path over my lower back and the tingles spin faster as he inches down. My head mimics the same motion. And maybe that’s why I question the high-pitched ding I hear over Metallica’s screaming guitars.

He stills. That’s when I know the sound caught his attention too. “Hear that?”

I’d love to tell him no. I want to say it was nothing, and he should go back to what he was doing. Because it isn’t possible I’m this close to having his mouth on me after two weeks only to be interrupted.

The bell rings again. And again. And again. Total. Mood. Killer. “Who the fuck is showing up at my house after ten on a Sunday night?”

I look over my shoulder at him. “I really, really, really don’t want you to stop what you’re doing but whoever that is ringing the bell sounds determined to get you to the door.”

“Motherfucker.” Oliver gets up and pulls on his jeans. No underwear. No shirt. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

I roll to my back, reach for a pillow and tuck it under my head. “I’ll be right here waiting.”

“Breath” by Breaking Benjamin comes on next. And then “Wish You Were Here” by Pink Floyd.

At least the music is good. But I didn’t come here for a concert.

When “Wish You Were Here” ends, I start to worry. Who has come to see him this late? Is something wrong?

I get up and slip on his T-shirt before going down the hall so I can hear what’s going on downstairs. A woman’s voice. Not Lawrence’s. That much I can tell. And it sounds like Oliver is arguing with her.

The floor creaks loudly beneath my weight and then a second time when I lift my foot. Fuck. It’s a dead giveaway I’m out of bed and eavesdropping.

“Max?” Yup. Busted.

“Yeah. Just checking to see if everything is okay.”

“Not exactly.”

He doesn’t sound panicked. “Should I come down?”

“Yes, please come the fuck down so you can get the hell out of Oliver’s house,” the woman yells.

Whoa.

“Hey. Don’t do that.” Oliver’s voice is sharp. A warning. “Come down, Max.”

I stop at the base of the stairs and peek around the wall to survey the scene before proceeding. Damn. It’s Drunk Lacey from the restaurant.

“Who the fuck are you?” Her voice is a slur.

She was trashed the last time I saw her. I’m not shocked she doesn’t remember me from the day she interrupted Oliver and me at the restaurant. “Adelyn.”

Her eyes start at my naked thighs and move up my body. “No. I mean who the fuck are you to Oliver, standing there almost naked?”

I want to say I’m the woman he was about to fuck until you came along and interrupted. But I don’t.

She’s staring me down with dilated pupils. Angry, looking like she might jump me at any minute.

That’s okay. Bring it, sister. I will stomp your drunk ass into the floor.

I give Oliver the maybe-you-should-answer-that-one look.

“Adelyn and I are seeing each other.”

“You mean fucking each other.” Well, we were trying.

I widen my eyes and shrug. “What now?”

Oliver grasps Lacey’s arms and guides her to the couch. “You. Sit.”

“And you, come with me.” Oliver grasps my hand and leads me to the kitchen. He pulls out a barstool. “Park it.”

I tuck his T-shirt under my butt before I sit. Doesn’t feel right to put my bare ass on one of his chairs.

He swivels me to face him and parts my legs so he can stand between them. He grips my outer thighs. “Listen. I want you to know I haven’t been fucking around with her.”

We aren’t a couple. Oliver owes me nothing. “Okay. We weren’t a thing—”

“But I haven’t and I don’t want to.” He leans in so we’re eye to eye. “I. Want. You.”

And I want him. Relief floods me as I hear his words. He wants me. “So what do we do about her?”

“I’m going to put her in a cab and send her home. As soon as she’s gone, you and I are going back to my bed and picking up where my mouth left off.”

I lean in and nip his bottom lip. “I like that idea a lot.”

“Me too.” He slides his hands up my legs and groans when he discovers I’m without panties. “I swear I’d fuck you right here and now if she weren

’t in the next room.”

I’m tempted to tell him to do it anyway. I doubt she’d remember tomorrow. “Come on. Let’s get her out of here so we can continue our exploration.”

“All for that, baby.”

I hop off the barstool and follow Oliver into the living room. “Motherfucker. She’s passed out.”

Oh, great. “Well, what are you going to do about that?”