Fake Fiancée - Page 46

I cleared my throat, my heart still pounding. “Was that . . . was that normal?”

He knew what I meant.

That hadn’t been hook-up sex.

That had been out-of-this-fucking-world-mind-blowing-when-can-we-do-it-again sex.

“Max?” I asked after he’d been silent for too long.

His long lashes dropped against his cheek, as if he didn’t want me to see what he was thinking. He swallowed. “Not normal.”

Yeah. That. That was just the answer I needed. “Thank you,” I whispered.

Max

WHEN I CAME TO ABOUT an hour later, she was still draped across me, her right leg between mine. The floor was cool but not cold. I barely noticed. It could have been an iceberg in here and I wouldn’t have moved from this spot.

Her eyes peeked open, and my greedy gaze ate her up, taking in the way her body fit neatly into mine. Since the moment we’d met, she’d checked all my boxes for what I’d never realized I wanted in a girl—and it was more than just looks. Sure, she was beautiful, but it had been her willingness to stand up to me that first day that had gotten my attention. I’d seen the vulnerability in her that day too—the careful way she kept her distance from me, holding back. God, I didn’t want her to do that anymore.

I rose up and kissed her. “I want you slow,” I said against her lips, my hips already arching into her.

“Yes . . .” She grasped my cock and stroked with the heel of her hand, rubbing over the head.

I kissed her harder, my hand on her ass, pushing her into me. She spread her legs just enough for me to glide across her velvet center.

“Fuck . . . Sunny . . .” I teased her with pulses of my hips, my cock weeping at the thought of riding her raw. But I didn’t do that. Condoms were a must.

I scrambled over to my jeans, pilfered through my wallet until I found one. I kissed it and sent her a grin. “Last one.” I walked back to her and came to a complete stop, noticing what was in the back corner past the shelving. “I’ll be damned.”

“What?”

I bent down and swept her up in my arms. “There’s a chaise lounge back there.”

A wide smile broke out when she followed my gaze. “Lead on, Quarterback.”

My lids went low. Because my mind was dirty as hell. “You’re gonna ride me.”

She shuddered, her eyelids squeezing together.

We made it to the pillowy chair, just barely, because my hands were too busy cupping her creamy breasts. I fell down on my ass and brought her with me.

“It’s probably been here a hundred years,” she said, a flush on her cheeks.

“Do you care?” My hand roamed the curve of her hip. I squeezed.

She shook her head, a curtain of hair hiding her face. That shyness again. I loved it.

After sliding on the condom, I gripped my cock and slid inside her. She moved over me and I played with her piercing, sucking. My touch was tender as I cupped her face and watched her move.

Everything but us faded away.

Crazy. Intense. And so damn good. It scared me a little—but I pushed it away.

Tingles of pleasure washed over me, and I grunted, my pumps faster. “I want behind you,” I whispered. She nodded, and I flipped her over, held her waist, and glided inside. She was dripping wet, and I groaned as I took her, her feet planted on the floor to keep us steady. My fingers went to her clit and stroked in little circles. I bent over her and whispered how hot she was and how much I wanted her.

Tossing her head back, she met my eyes, the heat I saw sending me higher. Something else passed between us—a breathless moment wrapped in such need and intensity that I couldn’t fathom it. I didn’t understand it, and it was forgotten as she came apart in front of me.

“Max!” she called.

My hand dug into her hips. It felt like we’d done this a million times. I could do it a million more. “So fucking good with you . . .” I breathed as I pounded into her and came hard. My back arched, basking in the sharp pleasure, and I continued to pump, my cock barely softening, still aching to feel encased inside her.

A few more spine-tingling strokes, and I pulled out, my breathing out of control. My hand caressed down the base of her spine. The moon had risen higher, the light showing tiny scars on her back around her shoulder blades and the center of her back. I counted ten or so. I inhaled sharply, battling, aching to ask her, but she turned over to face me, her face soft. She was beautiful . . . the moment was beautiful. I didn’t want to ruin it with a bad memory. Those marks would be a conversation for another time. I kissed her and eased down next to her, our limbs entangling as she snuggled into my side. Time passed but we hardly noticed, our hands clinging to each other.

I held her tight and thanked the stars I’d found her.

An hour passed. Maybe another one. Honestly, I lost track while holding her. With as much care as I could, I eased out of her arms and padded over to my jeans where I pulled out my phone. Two in the morning. I rubbed my head.

I headed back over to her and kissed her awake. She blinked up at me and I grinned. “Morning, Cookie. We gotta get out of here.”

She nodded and dressed. We pushed the shelves to the window, bracing them with other shelves. It was sturdy enough that I had no qualms about climbing it. Sure, I could have tried to just get service to call the campus police to come unlock the door, but this was easy stuff.

I got to the top of the shelving, put my hand down for her to grasp, and heaved her up step-by-step. Once she made it to the top, I shimmied through the window and then helped her come through with as much care as I could.

Tags: Ilsa Madden-Mills Romance
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