Power to the Max (Max Starr, #4)

Witt sucked in a breath. “Damn. Do it again.”


“This is weird.” But she did it. He seemed to grow and harden with each pass of the truck wheels. She revved the engine with a throaty growl. “This is really weird.”

“Makes me hot.”

“I can tell.” Another drop of cum pearled on his crown. She longed to suck it into her mouth, roll it around, make him squirm. “What do you want now?” Please, please, please ask me to take you in my mouth.

“Kiss me.” He tapped a finger to his lips as if he knew she wanted to kiss something else.

The toy vehicle’s motor died. Max stilled on his thighs. Suddenly, kissing him was scary, too intimate. She’d have been easier with taking his cock in her mouth.

He tugged her hips. She drove the truck up his abdomen, over his chest to the hollow of his throat, her body following the trail she blazed until she lay flat against him. Her lips hovered near his chin when she stretched. His gaze glittered and sparkled like a mesmerizing laser light show.

He puckered his lips. “Kiss me, baby.”

She inched a little higher, inadvertently rubbing herself along his penis.

He groaned. She crawled two more torturous inches, coating him with her moisture, then finally straddled his belly and brought her lips close to his. The truck rolled on its own, down his neck and onto the mattress, to disappear under the pillow as he arched, then pulled her to his mouth.

Butterscotch burst against her tongue as she opened to him, sucking his tongue into her mouth. Pretending to find the right angle, she wriggled against him, every part of him that her breasts, thighs, and pubis could find. A big hand clamped the back of her head, holding her to him. Being on top, she attacked, eating at his mouth, slipping in, then out, mimicking intercourse. Her nipples rubbed tantalizingly against his hard, muscled chest. With his other hand, he stroked her back, then hiked her a little higher so he could reach behind and between her thighs.

She rose a little, enough for him to slide a finger inside her. So hot and wet. Fuck me now, Witt, please fuck me now, just like this. She wanted him inside her so badly she strained on the edge of orgasm and need.

Talented. Like Cameron. Witt touched body parts she couldn’t imagine were within his reach. His thumb on her clitoris, two fingers deep, his tongue in her mouth, his teeth nipping her lip. She rose a fraction, took his cock in hand, and touched it to her. He took over and caressed her with the tip.

She backed up and tried to plunge. Witt broke the kiss. “Make that noise.”

“What noise?” She knew very well.

“Make it.”

“Ooh.” She gave him a half-hearted sound.

“Do a better one.” He rubbed the tip of his cock back and forth across her clitoris.

She couldn’t help herself. Her head fell back and the sound rose from her throat. “Ooh.”

“Christ, I love that.”

She did it again as he delved slightly inside her moist *. She moved to take him all the way.

He stopped her again. “Brought a condom.”

That’s what he’d been reaching for earlier when he’d found the toy Dodge Ram instead.

She didn’t want a condom. She wanted to feel his hot semen spurting inside her. She couldn’t have children. It wouldn’t matter. He couldn’t get her pregnant. She rotated her hips, trying to force the issue.

“Condom.” He fumbled, trying to hold her still at the same time he searched for the packet without looking.

Had she told him about the kid thing? She couldn’t remember. No, she had. She was sure. So the only reason he needed the condom was to protect himself against her. He thought she was diseased, because he knew that she’d had the occasional one-night stand with men she didn’t know.

He’d insisted on the condom the last time, too.

Max stopped fighting. An ache rushed through her body.

He took her face in his hands, forced her to look at him, the smooth, cool packet cupped against her cheek. “Don’t spoil it, Max,” he said as if he knew her mind.

“I said you could fuck me, Witt. So fuck me.”

All the sparkly glitter spilled out of his eyes, leaving them blank and dark.

“It’s not fucking.”

“Semantics. I want you inside me. Badly. Really badly. Didn’t you want me to admit that?”

“Somehow, it’s not quite how I imagined it would sound.”

She pulled the condom from his fingers. “Let me put it on.”

She pushed back along his legs, and his hands trailed down her arms. She took him in hand, but couldn’t resist a short, quick pump. His hips surged, and cum beaded in the tiny crevice. Her mouth watered. She wanted to taste him so badly and had no clear idea why she didn’t bend down to lick it off. Except that the condom had taken away ... something. She was practiced and sure in the operation, and he couldn’t help but know that.