Page 17 of Knot Guilty

The first touch to my throbbing clit has me lifting on my toes and arching my back off the wall. “So responsive,” he murmurs in my ear.

Since I’m long past my teenage years, I have no interest in being fingered when there’s a perfectly hard cock nearby. However, Maxen doesn’t appear to be in any kind of hurry. And the harder I pull at my hands, the tighter he holds them.

Maxen stops everything and levels a warning glare at me that I answer in defiance, renewing my effort to break his hold. He only lifts my hands higher, forcing me to my toes. Damn, he’s strong. Fingers slickened with my arousal continue their slow torture between my legs, speeding up occasionally only to stop when my thighs clench and my breathing comes in pants.

He edges me close to orgasm, stopping once more, and I buck off the wall. “Maxen, I swear to god, if you don’t–”

Out of the blue, he drops his shoulder, ramming it into my middle and throwing me over his shoulder. I’m trapped somewhere between turned on and pissed off at being denied climax several times but figure, why waste a good opportunity?

I glide my hands down his tanned back and dip my fingers inside his track pants, finding a tight ass. Not bad. Just as I’ve filled both hands and given his cheeks a good squeeze, I’m ripped backward and thrown onto a bed.

While I’m fighting to clear my long hair from my face, my jeans are yanked down my legs, followed by socks and panties. I scramble to my knees so Maxen will give it to me the way I like, but my legs are snatched out from under me. My upper body crashes into the soft bedding, and I’m roughly flipped over and yanked toward the footboard. “Uh uh. My bed. My rules. You wanna top, we do it at your place.”

Maxen shoves my thighs open and puts his mouth on me, and I yell out a string of dirty curses. Thanks to all the teasing he did in the kitchen, I’m instantaneously thrown into a violent orgasm that makes my heart skip a beat or twelve.

While my mind fights to recover from the bolt of lightning that just struck me, Maxen rises slowly, dragging a finger through my slit as he stands upright. The light touch causes my whole body to seize up as though hit by a cattle prod. For a moment after, I’m sort of paralyzed and can only watch as he shoves down the elastic band of his pants.

Maxen strolls toward a nightstand and pulls out a condom. He doesn’t seem to be cursed with the same sense of urgency that I’m feeling, the fucker. The only reason I’m not yelling at him to hurry up is that I’m sure he would only go even slower in response.

When his dick is covered, Maxen climbs onto the bed and settles between my open thighs. The only problem is that all he does is settle. “Maxen.”

He closes his eyes and appears to savor the sound of his name rolling off my tongue.

“Maxen, please.”

The pleading sound of my voice feels foreign to me, but I don’t care. Apparently, Maxen does. “You’ll never have to beg me, Sadie.”

The head of his cock finds my entrance, and Maxen slowly presses inside. All the air rushes out of my lungs, and I have to fight to pull a breath back in. Fully seated, Maxen lowers himself to his elbows, and his mouth finds my ear. He sounds like he’s barely in control of his voice when he says. “If I’d known you’d feel this fucking good, I wouldn’t have been so patient.”

I can’t even reply.

Maxen starts moving, but I’m useless. Since he’s the one that made me into this sated, boneless heap, I figure he can use my body to handle his own release. He settles into a rhythm and leans down to capture my lips again.

I recover somewhat and begin helping him reach climax, meeting his thrusts halfway. His kisses are light but somehow still demanding. In a move that shocks me, my hands go to his back and pull his body down onto mine.

Equally shocking is that I feel pleasure building in my core again. I’ve never climaxed during sex, always before or after using manual means. Damn. This fucker’s got skills.

Another orgasm zings through me, and I throw my head back and let out a hoarse cry. Maxen’s thrusts become labored and jerky, his own groaning voice sounding strained and harsh.

With one final push, Maxen’s body goes ramrod straight and convulses once or twice before his upper body crumples to the bed on my left. He lies face down, breaths sawing in and out of his lungs. I understand the feeling.

Several seconds pass before Maxen climbs off the bed and stumbles to the attached bathroom. The condom is gone when he comes back and turns off the light.

This is usually the part where I begin working on my exit strategy, but I’m so washed out that I can’t think that far ahead. Maxen reaches for the blanket and sheet he’d ripped off when I was on his shoulder and pulls them over us as he collapses next to me.

He has enough energy left to pull me back against him, and I have absolutely not enough to keep my distance. Despite the effort my brain puts into keeping me awake and on plan, my eyes close, and I sink into the warmth of Maxen’s arms. Blackness follows close behind.

No clock is visible when I wake up in the same position sometime later. As sated and used as my body still feels, it could have been only thirty seconds since I passed out for all I know. Ultimately, the time doesn’t matter to me. Leaving does. I never stay the night after sex, unwilling to let myself be vulnerable with a stranger.

But this isn’t a stranger. This is Maxen.

That doesn’t matter. Does it? Should it? Shaking off the confusing and conflicting thoughts, I remind myself that I have a job to do. And that job expects me to be on hand and ready for the upcoming mission. My original plan was to spend the night at the compound like I always do before an early morning deployment. This time will be no different.

I won’t sneak out of here, but I won’t intentionally rouse Maxen, either. If he wakes, I’ll explain. If not, I’ll see him at work tomorrow. And you’re full of shit.

As gently as I can, I roll out from under Maxen’s arm, shocked to hell and back that the former Delta doesn’t wake up. Using the small amount of moonlight coming in through the windows, I find my jeans and socks but not my panties. I hold the clothes to my chest like a shield and step lightly out of the bedroom.

I slip into the jeans and search for my discarded bra and shirt. My hair tie went the way of my panties, but I have plenty of spares in my locker at work.

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