****
When Max closed the bathroom door, Erin scrambled under the covers. Her thighs were still trembling from the effects of the orgasm she’d just experienced and her mind wasn’t in working order. How the hell had that just happened? How had she managed to get off so fast? How had he made her come so quickly, so intensely, just as he’d told her she would?
Part of her wanted to jump up and run screaming—part of her wanted to lie still and wait for more of the best sex she’d ever had.
She closed her eyes and attempted to figure out what she should do. Conflicted much, Erin?
When the bathroom door clicked open, she had no more time to decide which action to take, as Max strolled to the end of the bed and stood frowning down at her. He wore only a towel wrapped loosely around his hips, and all thoughts fled her mind as she focused on his straining erection pushing against the towel.
He lifted a dark eyebrow and with a single, swift movement, pulled the covers away from her and tossed them to the side, leaving her almost nude body for him to see.
Her breathing went haywire, and before she could even gain enough traction to begin scooting up the bed, he reached out and wrapped his hand around her ankle and began tugging. His fingers felt like a vise—an addictive, too-tempting vise. He pulled her to the end of the bed, pushed her trembling thighs apart and stared steadily between them. Holy Mary . . . sweet Jesus. Her lower body was nude, Erin hadn’t put her panties back on, and now, as he stared down between her legs, the intimacy of the moment was almost too much. His hands wrapped around both of her ankles, his fingers tightening to such a degree that she felt shattered. His expression was primal, atavistic, as he stared down at her as if he’d already marked her in some way—as if he was going to do it again.
She tried to breathe evenly, she really did, but all the blood in her body seemed to be rushing to the juncture between her thighs as she felt herself flood with wet heat. He continued to pull on her ankles until her butt landed on the very edge of the bed and with rapid motions, he divested her of the remainder of her twisted clothing until she was completely naked.
She felt her face flood with color, and when he stepped between her legs and dropped the towel from around his hips, she glanced down and almost passed out right then and there.
He was already prepared, sheathed with a new condom.
He hadn’t been kidding; by all evidence he meant to do this again. Right now. And to her eyes, this time wasn’t going to be much slower than the last. Deciding to take the bull by the horns, in an effort to slow him down and regain some control, she employed his name, still new to her lips, “Max.”
He slid firm fingers from her ankle, over her knee, up her thigh, until his touch landed on her clit like a heat-seeking missile. “Yeah?”
As sensation blazed across her nerve endings, any half-crazed thought of slowing him down blew right out of the window. Her eyes closed involuntarily, and the moment they did, his other hand came to her nipple, where he began tweaking her. Her hips lifted from the bed as she began to gyrate in response, the motion out of her control. A sweet, delicious ache formed in her lower stomach, and she immediately became drenched with liquid anticipation. Shit. She could so get used to this. The guy was perfect—at least, sexually perfect.
With her eyes closed, she felt his fingers leave her center, only to find herself teased with something hard and forceful. Something hot. A single stroke later, she was impaled once again. She felt the reverberation roll through her body as she sucked in a breath, delight dancing down her spine as she felt once again, his width stretching her. His hand sank into her hair and he began to take slow, even strokes that continued to blow her mind. Why the hell did he have to smell so damn good? Even now, already, she was rapidly becoming addicted to his scent.
His touch was sheer magic, a piece of heaven, and so she shut down everything in her brain that was telling her that she didn’t know him, that she shouldn’t be allowing this to happen and she just went with it. He was large, he was hitting all the right spots, and she struggled not to come too soon.
It was useless; she was within touching distance of a place that was as close to ecstasy as one could possibly be. She rolled her hips under his as he continued to stroke in and out of her. She heard a keening, distant wail and even as her body and senses shattered in satisfaction, somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew it was her own voice. At the sound, his hands left her hair to land under her butt as he lifted her even closer and began to stroke harder, faster . . . Endless moments later, her orgasm began to subside just as a groan ripped from his throat. Satisfaction tickled along her spine from knowing that she’d made him feel the same ecstasy she’d just experienced.