Page 52 of Trust Issues
“You were just being nosey as usual. Cut it out, Mark.” I aimed my finger at him and walked toward the hall. Once I was alone on the elevator, my mind ran away with questions. What the fuckwasI doing with Max? Were we actually dating? What would happen beyond our friends with benefits situation?
“Fuck,” I groaned. I was itching to snatch the wig off my head and let my locs down so I could breathe and be myself. The elevator doors couldn’t open soon enough.
“Still wearing that tortured poodle on your head, I see.” Of course Max’s voice was the first thing I heard when I stepped on to the eighth floor. A smile burned the corners of my mouth as I stared at him. He was in the hallway five seconds away from using his spare key to walk into my apartment.
“You couldn’t wait for me to get home? You wanted to ambush me with your presence the moment I stepped off the elevator?” I quizzed.
“I got your mail in my box.”
“You could have slid it under the door,” I countered with my arms folded. You just wanted to go smell my panties, didn’t you?” I grinned over my shoulder as I opened the door. Barkley bombarded Max and I with tail wags and we both spoiled him with pets.
Once I was done giving him obligatory attention as king of the apartment, I sat on the couch and started taking off my wig. “Kyle, you seriously need to stop wearing a wig to work. The longer your hair gets the more trouble it is. The entire point of your hair is to break the status quo. I get it. It’s you. Covering it is not.”
I rolled my eyes so hard that I damn near gave myself a headache. “Max, until you’re a non-conformist in a space that expects you to conform to get paid properly, I don’t want to hear your opinions on my hair.”
“You’ve never even tried to go into work with your natural hair out, have you?”
“No. I haven’t. I want to keep my job.” Memories of interviewing for different firms were seared into my brain. Max studied the expression on my face and frowned.
“What made you cover your hair?” He asked, running his fingers through my locs. The memories left a sour taste on my tongue. I wanted to avoid that taste so I walked back to my bedroom and started coming out of my work clothes.
“Why do you assume something made me cover my hair?” I unbuttoned my dress while Max stumbled over his syllables.
“I-I assumed that someone as strong as you would have to have something jarring happen.” He paused in his explanation and sighed heavily. “Kyle, you can’t undress in front of me and expect me to form full thoughts.” He took a step toward me and I bit my bottom lip letting my dress fall to the floor. “Then you insist on biting that fucking lip.” He hooked his strong arm around my middle and I gasped at how possessive his hold was.
It made me tingle every-fucking-where. The way he commanded my body drove me insane.
“It’smylip. Should I bite yours instead?”
“I wouldn’t be mad,” he responded. So I pulled him to my mouth and bit his bottom lip enough to make him growl. He scooped me up in his arms and we backed against the wall in a tornado of heat. His lips and tongue owned me. They owned every part of my neck and shoulders. He made me throb with desire.
“Naima could walk in any moment,” I breathed as he tugged at my bra with his teeth.
“I hope she likes watching live shows because I’m not stopping.” Max tugged my panties to the side and the bottom dropped out of my stomach. It didn’t matter how many times we had sex. Every time was exciting. Every time gripped me at my core and refused to let go. This time was no different.
I didn’t close my eyes when he thrust into me. I wanted to look at him. He had the most intense eyes I’d ever seen. They locked me into place and I couldn’t get enough of them. They were so deep brown. They were soil. It was foolish but I’d started to plant things there already and when I looked at his eyes, I could see those things blossom.
“You’re so damn beautiful, Kyla.” Max always traced my face like it was a work of art and it always made me feel like the brightest fucking star in the sky. It didn’t begin when we started fucking around either. I’d always noticed him doing it. I just ignored it because I assumed he hated me. I assumed he was looking for things about me to pick apart.
“Is that why you always stare at me?” I asked while his impossibly thick dick slipped in and out of me painfully slow. He was driving himself so far inside of me that at a certain point we’d become one.
“Always,” his voice vibrated through me and made me tremble. He kissed me and pushed deeper inside of me, making me squeal and cry out. I dug my nails into his shoulders and it pushed him even more.
Dammit.
My eyes were starting to burn.
I refused to let a man put it on me so good that I cried.
Refused.
I snapped my eyes shut but that only intensified the deep engulfing pleasure bubbling over in the pit of my stomach. Pressure mounted rapidly until it became thick. So thick I couldn’t breathe.
“Max, I’m about to come!” I shouted, wrapping my hands around the back of his neck. It was like I gave him the green light to fuck the soul out of my body. My thighs shook and my pussy clamped down, gripping his girth for dear life.
I knew I was going to pop like an over-inflated birthday balloon. I was prepared to sail all around the room before landing on my bed. Deflated and spent.
“Come for me, Kyle.”
