Page 55 of Last on the List
“Fucking the bed?” he finishes my sentence this time. “Yes…but I like to think I helped.”
I cover my face and groan.
“No need to be embarrassed,” Max’s growly voice murmurs in my ear. “I woke up hard as stone and started humping your ass like a sex-starved teenager.”
“Oh,” I reply dumbly as his hand releases my breast to wrap tightly around my waist.
“I can’t seem to stop getting hard around you,” he adds as he continues to slide his silky erection against me.
I blink back my shock because I can’t imagine the position I am currently in is all that alluring. Truly, for a female, side laying is savage. My left breast is currently working to swallow my right breast, and my FUPA—fat upper pussy area—is doing its best to fuck the mattress as well. Gravity is a foe for plus-sized girls, not a friend.
Max’s cock wedges between my thighs, and he thrusts again.
He clearly doesn’t mind the lack of gap.
That would be a funny graphic tee for Dakota’s store. Print the London Underground circle brand on there and below it say:Mind the Lack of Gap.
I tug my lip into my mouth and recall the insanely wonderful things Max said last night to reassure me he liked what he saw.
“If you think for one fucking second your body isn’t everything I want…everything I have been craving…and everything I jack off to when I can’t sleep at night because you haunt all my waking moments…then you’re not as smart as you think you are.”
It was a run-on sentence to be sure, but it got the job done. My libido was like…“Thank you, sir, may I have another?”
And what’s crazy is, he delivered!
“Make no mistake, you aren’t a convenience fuck, Cassandra. You are a dream fuck.”
Like seriously. Max Fletcher hasgame. I don’t care if he did it just to get in my pants. I will engrave those words on my tombstone when I die.
RIP
Cozy Barlow
Dead From a Good Dickin’
Max’s husky voice tears me out of my dick death musings when he says, “After my quick performance last night, I am putting in my formal request for a redo.”
“A redo?” I repeat, my brow furrowed as I stare forward at the shiplap walls. “I’m pretty sure I had two orgasms last night.”
He growls and nips my shoulder. “I can do better.”
“Such an overachiever.” I giggle and then frown when I feel the loss of his body heat as he shifts off the bed.
I roll onto my back to become besties with gravity again and tuck the sheet around my body as I savor the view of a bare ass Max walking around the bed. Seriously, zero dad bod situation happening here, and I need to mentally catalog every bit of this view to keep me warm on those cold winter nights.
His ass cheek flexes as he hunches over to pick his wallet up off the floor and dig out a condom.
“Do you just…have those condoms in there all the time?” I ask as he holds a foil packet in his fingers. He’s probably a guy who gets so many girls that he has to always be prepared.
“No,” he replies curtly.
My brow furrows. “So what…did you just put them in there before you knocked on my door last night? That’s kind of bold, isn’t it?”
His blue eyes pin me to the bed and darken. “I put them in there before I went to the bar. I had high expectations for my stalker mission.”
“Clearly.” I pull the sheet up over my mouth to hide my embarrassingly girlie smile.
He rejoins me on the bed and drapes the sheet over his waist, looking ridiculously hot. Like honestly, his dirty-blond hair is rumpled perfectly, his faint abs on full display. Even his dime-sized nipples are perfect.
