Page 113 of Invisible String
He’s been saying that, and it does things to me. So many pretty words, but for how long? My nails dig into the sofa, and his hot breath fans my insides.
His hands grip my ass and grind me onto his face, his thick tongue working my delicate aching spots. One hand grips the sofa, and the other grips his hair. I don’t know what to do with my hands. I want to touch him all over. I cry in pleasure as he nips and sucks, and it is driving me wild. My body hums in apprehension for this man who can paint pictures with his tongue.
“More.” I rock faster. He delivers. He slaps my ass and sucks so hard it hurts, but in a good way. “I need you inside of me.” My words slip out seductively before I can stop myself.
He freezes.
He shakes his head beneath me, but I keep rocking. He lifts me slightly to look at me. Max’s lips glisten with my wetness.
He licks, then says, “You’re not ready.”
The hell I am.
“I want you inside me,” I repeat, my voice not sounding like my own, more like a possessed woman.
He smirks. “No, it’s lust talking.”
And maybe he’s right.
“Believe me, I want to be inside you, but you are not ready for us. You’ll know when you’re ready, and so will I, and tonight is not it.”
I hate that he’s right. I’m not ready for us, and I don’t even know what “us” means. I’m grateful that he’s patient and didn’t take advantage of my lust-filled words. Of all the pretty, hot, sweet words he speaks, there are only three I want to hear to know I’m it for him.
“I’ll pleasure you all night with my tongue and fingers until you feel satisfied, and I know it won’t be enough until our bodies are tangled, and I can satiate every ache in you and fill you up.”
Oh my gosh, my insides liquify, and I’m so turned on.
“Max,” I cry out in pure torture. I need his mouth back.
“Now, let me get back to worshipping my woman.”
There it is again,my woman. And boy, do I love hearing it.
Worshipping, he does. Our night follows with every promise to keep me satisfied and pleased. He takes me to my room and takes my top off, laying me bare on top of the bed. He kisses me breathlessly, then kisses every part of me—sucking on my breasts, which drives me insane—then his lips glide down to my belly, leaving kisses in his wake to between my legs his tongue works his magic until I cry out in pure saturated bliss then he proceeds kiss down my thighs until he gets to my feet and massages them down the heel. Max then flips me over on my knees. He kisses my legs until he spreads my legs farther and flicks his tongue, stroking my clit. Max slides underneath and thrusts his tongue inside me, biting and sucking until I come on his beautiful face. He doesn’t stop there. He massages my back and peppers kisses on it.
I do the same to him. I strip him down and kiss every part of his godly, toned, muscular body. It’s so perfectly sculpted that every workout shows on him. A V-line I’m dying to trace. I do just that after kissing his biceps and licking his pecs. I trace the V-line down to his extremely hard length. I love how he watches me and how his eyes darken with lust, and I’m not sure what else. I take every part in my mouth, sucking gently, causing him to arch and curse.
When I deep throating him, he yells, “Fuck, fuck, Rainey, you’re my everything.”
He combusts in my mouth, and those words ring in my ears. Then Max goes back to ravishing my body. Until we have to tapout for the night in multiple orgasms, I relish this moment we didn’t need sex to tangle with one another. My body aches in a whole different way in pure euphoria from just his mouth. I’m not sure if this is his way of showing me how serious he is about me, but deep down, I think it is, even though I want to deny it.
Max wipes a wet strand of hair covering my eye, then kisses my forehead. “What are you grinning at?” he asks, his smile matching mine.
My heart flutters like little butterflies marching in a happy rhythm.
“Just because…I’m happy,” I respond, my fingers raking his hair.
My smile is content—one that hasn’t reached my eyes in such a long time. I grieved for two souls, but in the past weeks, Max has replaced it with happiness. I’m healing from the loss of my mother and the man beside me, nestling in his arms and staring into his forest green eyes, as a brick wall shatters down—another one.
“You have a beautiful smile,” he says, kissing the smile on my lips. “Now, go to bed before my tongue goes back to work.” He laughs, and so do I.
I snuggle in the crook of his neck, and his arms wrap around my waist.
“Good night,tesoro mío.”
“Good night, Maxi.”
He exhales and tightens his arms around me.
