Vengeance to the Max (Max Starr, #5)

She pulled his hand between her legs and forced his finger deep inside. “What do you think?”


His eyes glowed blue in the mirror. “Think you’re more than ready for a dose of reality.” Then he reached into his shaving kit and pulled out a little foil packet. They’d had sex once without a condom, in an extreme circumstance, but Witt was a protector, always taking care of her even when she didn’t need it. She watched as he ripped it open, tipped the condom into his hand, felt the sensuous glide of his fingers against her flesh as he rolled it on.

“Like a boy scout, aren’t you, Detective, always prepared.”

He eyed her in the mirror, and his lips tilted in a smile. “A man’s got to be fully prepared around you.”

“Then make love with me now.”

He twitched against her spine, then pushed her forward to lean on the counter. The fingers of one hand sliding into her hair, he bent at the knees and pushed his cock slowly inside.

Oh God, the fullness of hard heavy meat inside her. Real. Solid. Warm.

He leaned back. Concentration furrowed his brow as he surveyed the slow penetration.

“Do you like watching yourself?” Max definitely liked watching him.

“Don’t think a woman can fully understand the power a man feels when he takes.”

So Witt wasn’t above wanting power, too. Her body contracted around him. His muscles bunched and played deliciously along her thighs. There was something about shared power that turned it sweet and heady without the stain of shame.

“Deeper.”

“Don’t rush me.”

He held himself just inside, rotating his pelvis against her. She pushed back, taking him deeper. Hands gliding down from her neck to her waist, he held her by both hips and plunged.

“Ooh.” Her gaze locked with his. His eyes ate her up. He rocked back, thrust again. Stretching out, she braced her hands against the mirror’s bottom rim and ground into him. The cold against her belly and the heat inside clashed. He wrapped his arm around her waist and hauled her closer.

“Yes. Please.” She moaned for him, groaned, pleaded, told him how perfect he was, how real.

“Touch yourself.”

Pushing back, she gained enough room to fit her hand between her legs. While he worked her on the inside, she worked herself from the outside. She never closed her eyes, but drank in the sight of him covering her, the sheen of sweat on his forehead, the smile, almost a grimace, on his lips.

“I want to watch you come,” she told his mirror image.

She wanted to see it, record in her memory, a moment she could drag out, play over and over again in her mind’s eye.

She circled her clit, but not hard enough or fast enough to build to orgasm. She didn’t want to lose a second of the sight of him, even if it meant waiting to climax. She’d wait forever for the expression on his face.

He pounded against her butt. The muscles of his throat strained, veins at his temples bulged, and he groaned, the sound vibrating against her back. Knowing he was close, she removed her hand and covered his fist on the counter with her palm.

“Jesus.” Then he hit home once more, hard, ramming her up against the edge. Squeezing his eyes shut, he pulsed inside her, quaked against her. His arms shook, and his breath came in great gasps. Then he buried his face between her neck and shoulder and passed his shudders through her body.

He held her that way until her legs started to shake and her back cramped from arching into him. Her toes twitched. She’d stood on them too long trying to give him a better angle.

He looked at her reflection. “You didn’t come.”

She’d gotten so much more. What was a mere orgasm compared to the beauty of his face when he came? “I don’t care.”

“I do.”

Easing back, he slipped away from her to take care of the condom. Once done, he turned her to face him, stroking the hair off her forehead with a warm palm. “I wanna watch you come. Bad.”

He lifted her onto the counter, stepped between her legs, and pulled her bottom to the edge. Wrapping his big arm securely across her back, he dipped his head to take her lips and slid his fingers into her curls. He didn’t let go of the kiss even as he swirled his fingers in all her juice. She moaned against his mouth and tightened her arms around his shoulders. Her legs seemed to circle his waist of their own accord, opening her fully to him.