Page 35 of Vigilante
“Words,Bella.Use them.”
“Y-yes, okay. Make me come on your face.”
He smirks. “That’s what I want to hear.”
My legs quiver as he resumes his mission, this time going even harder. The way he sucks on my clit has me seeing stars. I lock my knees to keep from crashing to the ground as I ride outthe waves of pleasure he’s giving me. I feel his tongue lick and thrust up against me, urging me into another orgasm. I come hard and fast, feeling the surge of cum spray out of me almost violently.
He drinks it up greedily. “Fuck yes.” He murmurs, lapping up every last drop.
I slide down the glass, unable to hold myself vertically anymore. He grabs me by the hip and turns me into him, lying down on the carpeted floor.
“You did so fucking good.” He says, face glistening with my cum.
I glow from his praise. “You weren’t so bad yourself.”
Before he extracts himself from me, he lands a punishing smack on my bottom before he jumps up and runs over to the kitchen. “Not so bad?” He scoffs. “Remind me to fuck you until you pass out next time.”
I watch him as he runs. Feeling spent but also happy.Next time.
He looks almost boyish as he comes rushing back to my side with a damp towel.
Max takes his time pampering me and ensuring I’m cleaned up before he moves on to himself.
A host of unspoken things lay between us. Reality and decisions that we must make linger on the edges of our blissful post-coital bubble, threatening to change everything.
I try to push those thoughts from my head, enjoying how Max caters to me, looking at me as if he may love me. I try. But I fail.
Questions of what comes next sit heavy on my tongue—wanting to escape.
He hands me a plush blanket, and I wrap it around myself, thankful for the warmth. Not having his body on mine has the cold from the window starting to seep into my bones.
Max tucks me against him, and we lean against the couch, legs stretched out under the coffee table and my head resting along his shoulder. It’s amazing that this man is a killer and yet has the capacity to be so gentle.
A deep rumble comes from Max’s chest while I rake my fingers through his hair, running down the back of his head and onto the nape of his neck.
“I could stay here forever. Just you and me in this cabin.” His eyes are closed, and his hand finds my thigh, rubbing small circles absentmindedly.
“Why don’t we?” I murmur. “I’ll quit my job and take on a new identity. Leave everything behind. Learn how to forage for food in the forest.”
“I fear you’d be foraging a long time. There’s not much around.”
“Well, then maybe I’ll learn how to ice fish.”
He chuckles.
“I’d like to see that.”
It’s silly and far-fetched, but the fiction we’ve created is a balm to my dark, impending thoughts. Worrying that maybe this thing between us can’t go further than our time here.
On the rustic wooden coffee table, Max’s phone begins to vibrate.
We both still, as it rings out, hoping that it’s nothing important. Two seconds later, it starts up again.
“Sorry, I have to?—”
“It’s fine.” I tuck my legs up to my chest as he grabs his phone, answering it with a curt, “What?”
He jolts like he’s just been slapped and then hurriedly looks at his phone. “Shit, shit, shit.”
