I take a minute to admire the way she looks, but I’m with her. I’m too close to the edge to keep waiting. I slap the condom over my cock, without much thought. That’s her fault too. Normally I would have enjoyed torturing her with every small movement and action before I give her my cock. Will I ever have enough of Tess so that I can do that? I’m beginning to think the answer is unequivocal, no.
There’s no need to see if she’s ready. Fuck, she’s so wet the insides of her thighs are slick. That works for me since I’m about to come from just seeing her spread out and filled while her pussy is crying for attention. I quickly untie her ankles, though I’m not sure she realizes it, she’s so far gone. I poise my cock at her entrance, regretting I can’t be gentle, but I don’t have that in me.
“Tess.”
Her head carefully turns towards me. Tears in her eyes, her body pushing for more than it’s getting. She’s on a razor’s edge. I did that. I brought her to that.
“M...Max…”
“Mine,” I growl plunging hard inside of her. I don’t give her time to adjust. I give her nothing but every inch of my cock as I go balls deep. I feel the pressure of the plug through the thin layer separating her walls. Her scream and the way her hands pull against her restraints worry me briefly that I should have tried to hold back, but then her legs wrap around me, the heels of her feet digging into my ass and her greedy little snatch is milking my cock, trying to ride it, even without me moving.
I lean over her, sliding out of her so that just the tip remains and then slamming back in. Each thrust pushing her up on the bed and making her cry out. I’m the one in charge. I’m the one who will make sure she gets what she needs. Only me. She’s moaning, and I catch my name, her pussy ripples against my shaft and I can feel the warm gush of heated cream even through the latex, as her orgasm takes hold with nothing more than a whimper from her. I ride her hard, my balls tight and my own release so close, I can taste it, but I don’t let it happen. I push harder and faster, pumping her like a man possessed. Because I am. I am possessed by this woman in ways that I have never experienced and never will again. As my own climax takes over, the last thought I register as I look into her eyes is one that should terrify me. She’s the only woman I’ll ever want. For the rest of what life I have, whether it be a day or even fifty fucking years, for me it will always be Tess.
Hell.
26
Max
“I think you may have killed me,” Tess murmurs sleepily, curling into me. I untied her and cleaned her up all while she was lying still on the bed. I don’t think her body had the energy to do much more. Hell, I’ve not had the workout her body did, and I’m almost as tired. I place a kiss on the top of her head, holding her and staring up at the ceiling. I’m trying to process what the fuck just happened. This is sex, right? I’ve had sex since I was eleven. In all that damned time, it’s not been… Fuck, it’s never been like this. What does that mean? Tess is working her way inside of me, and I don’t know what the hell do with it all.
A smart man might think about getting his shit together here, so he can claim her right. Marcum’s words replay in my head. I close them out. Tess may believe in fairytales, but I sure as fuck know better. It’s sex. That’s it. Just sex.
“Tell me about Rory,” I command, desperate to find something that will put distance between her and the feelings she’s gradually pulling from me.
“Why?” she asks, kissing my shoulder.
“I want to know.”
Her fingers glide along my bicep, and I think she may be ignoring the question. Then her voice breaks the silence.
“Rory and I met when we were thirteen. We were both thrown into this hellhole of a foster home. You know the kind where the responsible adults take in kid after kid for the check and don’t bother to take care of them?”
I grunt. Yeah, I know the kind.
“There was an older kid there. Mean. The kind that had been on the streets a while. He liked me, and I mean that in an every young girl’s worse nightmare, kind of way,” she whispers, and I hold her tighter.
“What did he do?”
“At first? Nothing. Just leering looks and lewd suggestions. Eventually, he began trying to get me alone. Touch me, because he could. That kind of thing.”
“And Rory?”
“Rory was a sweet boy, who loved me, and I loved him, but he was no match for Daniel. Daniel was three years older and a good hundred pounds heavier. Rory was small and built like me,” she says on a sad sigh.
“I doubt that, Kitten,” I tell her. Trying to joke and ignore the way it unsettles me that she cared so deeply for this other man. Just sex. That’s all.
She stops and then I feel her lips spread in a smile against my skin. “I didn’t mean that, Mad Max. Rory was sick. He’d had cancer from the time he was ten.”
“Hell.”
“Yeah. He was in remission when I met him, but the chemo had already played havoc on his young body.”