Page 33 of Taboo
I had forgotten how good he is—his lips, his hands, the way he ate me out like a man possessed. My breath comes in soft, ragged gasps, my chest heaving, my heart a wild drumbeat echoing in the moonlit room,
Max gets up, his bare chest glistening with sweat, his blue eyes bright with hunger, a hunger that hasn’t faded even the tiniest bit. In fact, it burns hotter now, and I’m caught in it, unable to look away, unable to stop what’s coming.
His hands move to his sweatpants, slow and deliberate, his fingers grazing the waistband, the fabric sliding down his hips with a sigh, revealing the hard lines of his body—corded muscles, the rigid V of his pelvis, the thick length of his cock, stiffand pulsing, a promise that steals my breath. My heart races like crazy, and I’m startled by his intensity, the way his trembling hands betray his longing, his undying passion, his desperation. He steps out of the pants, naked now, his skin catching the moonlight, a sculpture of strength and vulnerability, and my hands itch to touch him, to trace every inch I’ve missed for fourteen years.
“Amelia,” he whispers, and his voice breaks on my name. It is a sound so raw it sends a shiver rippling through me, making my skin prickle and throb with need. He moves toward me, his strength a quiet force, and takes me into his arms, lifting me effortlessly. My legs wrap around his waist, my naked skin pressing against his. Heat, oh pure heat.
And a furnace that ignites every nerve.
His lips brush my ear, warm and soft, his breath a caress that makes me tremble. My hands slide up his chest, feeling the pounding of his heart, a rhythm that matches my own, frantic and alive. He lowers us to the bed, the mattress yielding beneath our weight, the quilt soft and cool against my back, a contrast to the heat of his body covering mine.
His mouth finds my jaw, a slow, lingering kiss, his lips tracing the curve, tasting my skin, seeking, and I arch into him, a soft moan escaping.
“God only knows how much I’ve missed you,” he growls, his lips moving to my throat, kissing the pulse point, his tongue flicking against it, sending sparks skittering down my spine. “I missed you so much, Amelia. So, so much. If you knew… if you only knew.”
His confession cracks me open, grief and longing tangling in my chest, the years we lost a quiet ache beneath the pleasure.
“What about Sara? Don’t you feel guilty?”
He frowns. “No. Sara and I have an arrangement. We’re not exclusive. The clause was put into our pre-nup more for her thanme. I didn’t love her, even then, so I thought it was only fair to give her the chance to find love with someone else.”
“Oh.”
“Yes, Oh,” he whispers and kisses every inch of me, deliberate, reverent, his lips mapping my body like a pilgrimage. His mouth trails to my collarbone, soft and warm, then lower, to the swell of my breasts, his breath hot against my skin. He sucks my nipple hard, a pull that makes me gasp, my hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, the sensation a jolt of pleasure that pools low, making me wetter, needier. His tongue swirls, teasing, then moves to my other breast. His teeth graze, then, a gentle bite that draws a whimper. My body pushes up against him, seeking more.
“Max, don’t make me wait any longer,” I gasp, my voice trembling.
He groans, a low, guttural sound that vibrates against my skin. His hands grip my waist, betraying his desperation, his love. He flips me gently, his strength controlled, and I’m on my stomach, the pillow cool and smooth against my cheek. My breath rattles as his lips find the nape of my neck, kissing softly, then trailing down my back, a slow, burning path.
His tongue traces the curve of my spine, tasting every vertebra, his hands sliding down my sides, fingers digging into my hips. It’s an act so possessive it makes me shudder. He kisses the small of my back, his breath warm, then moves lower to the curve of my ass. His lips are soft, reverent, a worship that leaves me trembling. My hands fist the quilt, my moans stifled against the pillow.
“So beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice rough.
He flips me back, his hands gentle but urgent, and I’m on my back again, my legs parted, my body open to him. My breath is shallow, and my eyes are locked on his. His body is taut, his cock hard and pulsing, but he doesn’t rush, his hands roaming,memorizing me—the faint freckles on my shoulders, my belly, my thighs. His lips follow, kissing my inner thigh, his stubble a soft scrape that sends shivers through me, then upwards to the sensitive skin above my sex, his breath hot.
“I’ve dreamed of this,” he says, his voice a low growl, deep and primal, his eyes dark with need, and I moan, soft and desperate, my hands reaching for him, needing him closer, needing him now.
He covers my sex with his mouth again, his tongue finding me, tasting my wetness. I’m still sensitive, my body reeling from the first climax, but he doesn’t stop, his lips soft, his tongue slow, circling, dipping, drawing out every sensation. The pleasure coils, a tight, burning heat, and I writhe, my hips bucking, my moans rising, trembling.
Max,” I gasp, my voice breaking.
His tongue, so familiar, moves faster, and I’m lost, my body shaking, my fingers clawing at the quilt, the pleasure, a wave that promise to carry me to pure ecstasy. He makes me feel so damn good, so amazing, and I can’t get enough.
I come again, but he doesn’t slow down. Positioning himself on top of me, and with his eyes holding my gaze, he enters me.
It’s hard and deep, a thrust that steals my breath. It fills me completely, a stretch that’s both pain and pleasure, a claim I’ve craved for years. I moan, low and desperate, my nails digging into his shoulders, my body arching to meet him.
Max moves, slow at first, a deliberate rhythm, his hips rocking, his cock sliding in and out, each thrust a spark that ignites me. But the tenderness shifts, a fire flaring, and he grabs my hips. His grip is so possessive that it makes me shudder. He rams into me, his cock thrusting hard, fast, a relentless pace that drives me wild. He fucks me like he can’t stop himself, like I’m his, wholly and completely. I writhe beneath him, my moansrising, trembling, my body a live wire, sparking with every slam of his hips.
“Don’t stop,” I whisper.
His mouth crashes into mine, swallowing my cries. I try to control my tone, to keep quiet for Jason, but I lose myself, over and over, in his arms, in the heat, the madness, the longing that consumes me. Each thrust is a wave, building, cresting, a pleasure so intense it borders on pain, and I’m drowning in it, in him, in us.
Thank God for his hand over my mouth.
I shatter, a white-hot wave crashing through me. My body convulses, my moans muffled against his shoulder, my teeth sinking into the skin. A low groan vibrates against my skin as his cock pulses inside me. His release is like a flood that binds us, a moment of madness and love that’s ours alone. We collapse, tangled together, our breath heaving, our bodies slick with sweat.
Tears fill my eyes as grief threads through the pleasure, a quiet ache for the years we lost, the love we buried, and I hold him tighter. My legs lock around his waist, pulling him deeper, needing him to fill every empty space.
