Page 53 of Surrender: XXX Maxim
This taking is brutal. No planning. No preparation. Only after a few tests of his thumb does he rub the head of his cock against that untouched opening, hissing when I flinch.
“Say that you trust me,” he demands, nipping my earlobe. “Say it.”
My lips part, devoid of hesitation. “I trust you—”
“Then take me.” He bucks his hips, and the sharp pinch of his invasion takes my breath away.Fuck fuck fuck fuck!
I choke on a cry as his length slams into me, crushing me between his bulk and the unyielding marble. My fingers claw uselessly at the surface, scrambling for purchase.
He goes deep. Too deep. So deep.
It should be impossible to find pleasure in this—suffocating, crushing, writhing agony. In some ways, maybe it is. The heat of his breath on my neck burns like fire. He grips my hips without care, driving his nails in, forcing me to take every thrust with no mercy.
I’m convulsing around him anyway.
It’s a feeling I could never find in his arms, lounging beneath the sunlight. Something violent and raw and selfish that lingers in the knowledge that only I can give him this.
True submission.
Even if it hurts. Even if the aftermath leaves me trembling on my knees, too exhausted to stand on my own. Murmuring against my skin, he lifts me into his arms, carrying me from the room. Still on edge, I gasp as the atmosphere changes. Warmth displaces cold. The air thins. Moonlight replaces the harsh, fluorescent lighting.
We re-enter the real world like creatures from hell, and it’s a slow, cruel readjustment to reality.
He drapes me over the edge of the bed and disappears for a moment only to return with a cloth clutched in his fist. He bathes me carefully, but his touch lingers afterward. It’s like I can read his mind as he weighs the prospect of taking me back into that space. Feeding this addiction with another round.
I’ve already resigned myself to exactly that when a frantic knock on the door shatters everything.
“Frankie? Frankie?”
“Shit!” I only have enough energy to roll onto my side, facing the door, and pray that it doesn’t open. “W-What is it?”
“Can I sleep with you?” Ainsley asks in between sniffling cries. “P-Please?”
Double shit.
“Uh…” I can’t even look at Maxim. “Not tonight, baby. G-Give me a minute, and I’ll come to tuck you in—”
“It’s okay.” Maxim enters the closet and tosses me a robe. “Let her in.”
He’s already pulling on a pair of gray sweats and a shirt. Before I can call Ainsley myself, he crosses over to the door and opens it.
Rubbing her eyes, Ainsley barges in, trailing a pink blanket behind her that I assume came from her bed. She climbs in beside me and burrows beneath the sheets. From the corner of my eye, I notice Maxim already entering the hall.
“I’ll be on the couch,” he says.
“No!” Ainsley sits up, her eyes wide. “You have to stay in case the bad man comes back. You have to!”
“Ainsley…” I run my fingers through her hair and try to coax her into lying down. “Baby, try to get some sleep—”
“It’s alright.” Maxim lingers near the threshold before he returns to the bed. I can’t read his expression. He circles around to the opposite end from Ainsley and me and then sits on the floor with his back braced against the mattress. “Get some sleep,” he grunts. “No one will hurt you.”
A faint reply comes muffled from beneath the blankets. “Promise?”
He sighs again. “I… I promise.”
Satisfied, Ainsley snuggles against me, and within minutes she’s sleeping deeply.
But her protector doesn’t budge from his post. Even though he has no real obligation to, he keeps his promise.
He stays.
