Page 57 of Hex and the City
Hot splashes of myself lashed across my torso, across his. Even in the throes of ecstasy I caught the smile forming in the corner of his mouth. Triumphant, greedy, gloating. He bore down against me, hips and torso both, powerful thighs and legs working to let him drill as deep as my body would take him.
Our chests met, my cheek sweaty and sliding against his. He grabbed me by the hair, by the back of my head, kissed me hard and deep. And within moments, within seconds, Max came into me, searing ropes of his aggression and affection firing hard and deep into my insides.
He collapsed against me, arms and legs giving out, heaving and panting, our torsos matching in rhythm and breath. I slid my hand against the sweat-damp hardness of his chest, the other down his back.
“Oh my God, Max. That was — that wasn’t what I expected at all.”
His soft, celebratory laughter rumbled against my chest. “Better than you thought, huh?”
“Get over yourself,” I grumbled, pushing him off. Even though it was true, even though it was fucking amazing. Absolutely mind-blowing.
He sat up and leaned against his headboard, patting at his side in invitation, a shit-eating grin on his face. I dragged myself there, refusing to give him the satisfaction, even though he’d given me plenty.
He slung one muscular arm over my shoulders, kissed me again, lips firm and forceful, still hungry. “Did you like that?”
What a stupid fucking question, one I was too breathless to answer with any measure of sass. “Yes,” I gasped.
He lowered his head, licked his lips, the ridiculous dark of his lashes brightening the diamond clearness of his eyes. “But did you love it?”
The arrogance, that cockiness — all I could do not to shiver. I rolled my eyes, stifled a nervous chuckle. “You’re an excellent fucker, Maximilian Brillante.”
“Actually, it’s Maximo. My real name is Maximo Brillante. Son of the Brillante matriarch, former heir to her illicit empire, etcetera.”
Talk about burying the lede. All I heard was his name. Maximo. Was he fucking kidding? Like a hero in a Spanish telenovela, someone who could sweep me off my feet, throw me over his saddle, ride bare-chested on horseback. Like he needed to get any sexier.
I shook my hand. “Oh my God. So youareultra rich. Even your friends call you Maxy Millions. That explains the car, the apartment, the watch.”
“Absolutely not. That was then. I’ve been disowned and disinherited.” He held his wrist up, forcing a flat smile. “It’s actually a hand-me-down from my dad, only thing I wanted from his inheritance. He passed some time ago. It was already this way when I got it, all the grubby stuff, the oxidized platinum. I wanted something to remember him by.”
That was why Max was so protective of the watch and its — what was the word again? Its patina. Right. Poor guy just loved his dad. Something inside me fluttered. Fuck this hard-edged man and his fluffy insides for turning my own insides into softened butter.
“I’m sorry, man. I lost my mom, too.” I pursed my lips, not wanting to steal his moment. “Oh, right. I already told you that.”
“But I’m sorry, too.” He smiled a little brighter this time. “For both of us. It’s funny. We both have our families behind us now. I walked away from the Brillantes.”
“And all the Alcantaras are gone,” I said with a shrug, running my finger down a crease in the bedsheets. “But it’s wild how you guys have your own clan magic. That thing at the parking lot, when you scared that thug away. You made a diamond with your hands.”
“Sorry I lied to you about that, too. It’s our clan’s sign. Not necessarily the same blood, though. Even the underlings get in on the action. I knew that guy was a Brillante goon.”
My mouth flew open. “Oh, snap. The tattoo on his neck. A diamond with an eye inside it.”
“That’s it. The gesture I made, it’s a spell, shorthand to tell another Brillante that we’re part of the same team. Or to fuck off, in that case. Times must be tough if they’re trolling the streets at random. Either that, or they’ve stopped giving a shit about doing clean work entirely.”
Clean work? I couldn’t tell if Max meant good and honest employment, or perpetrating crimes, except in a way that wasn’t so messy. I decided not to ask. Maybe it was both.
“So how come that thug didn’t recognize you?” I asked instead.
Max laughed. “It’s not like I’m on the company website. Go ahead. Look it up. When I broke off from the family, they basically decided I was dead to them. Leave each other well enough alone.”
“So if the sign only works for your clan — yikes. That must have been why Tina told me it wasn’t for me to use. You said the same thing.”
“Yeah, exactly. Sorry again that she tried to cut your head off. She’s very protective, knows all about my movements, being my bodyguard and all.”
My mouth fell open even wider this time. “Are you serious? You have a bodyguard?”
He shrugged. “Like I said, I think of her as my best friend. Certainly my oldest. She isn’t even a Brillante by blood, doesn’t really work with them anymore. But she was the only one who stuck by me when I left.”
“Interesting. And she can track your whereabouts, you say?”
