Page 116 of Moonlit Nights & Northern Lights
Maxwell remained speechless as he stared up at me, watching as I climbed onto his lap, positioning myself above his mighty cock.
His eyes watched me with such intensity that I almost looked away, but something in their depths kept me captivated. With one hand, I reached back to guide him to my entrance, the blunt head pressing against me.
“All good?” I whispered, heart thumping, because for some reason, I still wanted to give him one more chance to back out.
Maxwell nodded, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard.
I began to lower myself, the pressure instantly building as his thick head breached me. The initial stretch burned fiercely, drawing a strangled cry from my throat. I paused, panting, adjusting to the intrusion.
“Fuck—you’re huge,” I breathed, forcing myself to relax around him.
Maxwell’s hands found my hips, his grip tender yet firm. “I told you,” he muttered.
“It’s fucking perfect,” I quickly reassured him. “I can’t wait for it. Just… can you stroke me? Please?”
His breath hitched as his hand claimed my softening cock, stroking gently. It twitched happily in his hand, already hardening once more. With streams of pleasure coursing through my veins, I closed my eyes and sank down another inch, taking more of him inside. The burning soon morphed into something electric—a delicious fullness that made me tremble. I felt split open in the most perfect way, stretched around him until there was no me and no him. Like every empty space inside me had finally found its missing piece.
My head fell back as I worked myself further down his length, sinking myself onto his thickness with slow, deliberate movements.
“Christ, Rory,” Maxwell groaned beneath me.
When I finally bottomed out, I stilled, overwhelmed by the sensation of being so completely filled. Maxwell’s eyes found mine in that moment—dark and intense and so fucking tender it knocked the breath from my lungs. I felt like I was falling into those depths, tumbling headfirst into something I desperately wanted to drown in. My hand flew to Maxwell’s chest; I could feel each of his heartbeats pulsing inside me.
“You good?” he asked, voice strained.
In answer, I lifted myself slightly before sinking back down. The friction nearly undid me—I couldn’t help the loud moan that escaped my lips, echoing throughout the room.
“Fuck yes,” I cried, finding a rhythm now, rising and falling on his cock with increasing confidence.
Maxwell’s hands gripped my hips tighter, guiding my movements while his hips began to thrust upward to meet me. Each powerful surge drove him further inside—the rhythm we found together meant he kept striking gold, his cock pressing against that spot inside me that made white-hot fractals explode behind my eyelids.
“Right there,” I practically screamed, shameless in my pleasure. “Don’t stop—fuck—Theo!”
It was so perfect I could have wept. His impressive cock filling me completely, stretching me in the most delicious way. The overwhelming fullness of him inside me, the feel of his body beneath mine, muscles taut as he worked himself to bring us pleasure—all of it combined into something transcendent.
But I wanted even more. More of him.
I wanted my body to carry the memory of him, to feel the ghost of his presence long after we finished. To have this moment etched into my muscles and bones. His cock driving into me, claiming me. I wanted him, and I wanted him hard. I wanted bruises as proof, tangible evidence of this perfect madness.
With a swift, powerful movement, he sat up, shifting his weight and wrapping one arm around my waist while his other hand grippedmy hip with bruising intensity. The new position gave him leverage, and he used it mercilessly.
“Like this?” he growled, thrusting up into me with renewed vigor.
The change in angle sent him impossibly deeper, hitting my prostate with unrelenting precision.
I screamed, the sound torn from my throat wild and desperate.
Each drive of his hips sent tremors through my foundations, as if he were reshaping me from the inside out.
Yes.I gasped, clutching at his shoulders, my nails digging crescents into his skin.Just like that. You’re incredible. You’re so, so incredible.
With fingers digging into my hip, Maxwell’s rhythm turned punishing, driving into me with a force that bordered on savage yet remained achingly perfect. My body became a vessel for his pleasure and mine, joined in a symphony of sensation that crescendoed with each thrust.
“I’m not coming until you come again,” Maxwell hissed. “I want to feel you fall apart again first.”
I groaned, the sound desperate and wrecked. “Fuck… I don’t know if I—”
“You can,” he said with absolute certainty, his hand finding my cock again. “And you will.”
