“What?” he asks.
I pout from where I sit on the floor.
“Cock teases don’t get to come.”
“You did,” I moodily reply.
He hauls me up and before I know it, we’re crashed on his bed, staring up at the ceiling.
I wiggle beside him, blinking coyly.
He smirks, holding me to his side, but his hand only travels down my backside, rubbing my ass.
“Max,” I whine.
He kisses the back of my hand and then slowly drags his way down my body.
“Just so you know I don’t think you deserve this.” Air hits my thighs as he lifts up my dress. “I don’t know what the fuck you think you were doing, teasing me like that, but trust me it’ll be dealt with.”
“It’s called a bit of fun.”
He tears my panties down my leg, letting them fall over my heels to the floor. Slowly, he runs his hands back up my legs, spreading them wider, his breath soft against my core.
“Max.” I lift my hips, trying to prompt him.
His tongue flattens, running over my pussy. I don’t know how my dress isn’t on fire, my skin burns so badly. He sucks my clit and my back arches off the bed.
But then he slowly, gently caresses me, leisurely licking my cunt. “Isn’t this fun?” he teases.
I nearly throw a temper tantrum. We do not have time for games. His family is waiting downstairs.
He smirks against my sensitive flesh. “If you’re not going to be good, you’re not going to come.”
“I am good!” I argue. He thrusts his tongue inside me, sucking deep. His thumb swirls over my clit and I see stars.
I’m panting on the bed, but he remains bent over me, licking the arousal off my upper thighs.
“Stop.” I tug at his hair, but it’s a pathetic attempt. It’s not until he decides he’s done that he gently crawls over me and presses a kiss against my lips, letting me taste myself on him. Something about the soft and slow kiss has a part of me aching.
Everyone from my past thinks I’m spreading my legs open for a mafia prince.
I’m not. It’s for Max. Every part of me throbs for him. Not just his cock or his mouth. But the way he takes care of me. How he worships my body and my soul.
If I said no, I didn’t want to fuck him with his parents downstairs, he’d tease me but respect my wishes.
If I didn’t want to come to his parents and see Yelena he’d be fine with it.
He secretly likes my avocado-themed pajamas and he can say what he wants but I see how he secretly listens to my reality TV shows.
He’s Max. My Max.
I fight the pressing need to close my eyes and doze off on his chest. After a while he moves, the light in the attached bathroom flicking on. Water runs and he comes back out, his pants zipped. With a washcloth, he carefully cleans me but when I sit up I curiously look around.
“What?” he asks innocently, throwing the washcloth back into the bathroom.
“Where is my underwear?” I ask, frowning. They’re nowhere to be found.
He shrugs. “They were wet and dirty anyway.”