Page 158 of Unorthodox
“Give in to me, Addison.”
Do I really have a choice?I swallow those words, and instead I meet his gaze. “Okay, Max.”
He actually groans with those words, even though I’m not touching him. But I see his cock grow hard again, see the scars on his inner thigh. Iwantto touch him. I want his body over mine again, but he’s on his knees between my legs, and he doesn’t want me to get close.
He doesn’t want anyone to get close.
But despite my fear, thisistrust on a level I’ll never experience with anyone ever again. He might be rough and angry and broken, but I’m letting him do this.
I asked for it.
And whether I should or not, some part of me cares for him, and some part of me believes he meant what he said. That he cares for me, too.
And maybe I’m just clinging to the idea of being actually wanted, but in the moment,I don’t care.
I gasp as he pushes the gun in further, the steel cold.
“You’re doing so good,” he consoles me, still running his thumb back and forth over my clit. “Breathe again and look at me.”
I do, and he holds my gaze.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he says quietly, and he’s not smiling anymore.
He pushes the gun in further, and I feel pressure as something sharp nudges against me.
Looking down between us, I realize what it is. The trigger guard.
I find his eyes on mine when I look up, every muscle in my body coiled tight.
“You’re not relaxing,” he scolds me gently. “If you don’t relax, you won’t finish, Addison. And we’re not done here until you do.”
“Max, I don’t—”
“Hey,” he cuts me off sharply. I close my mouth. “Trust me. I’ll take care of you.”
Warmth floods my body with those words, and I relax against his bed, keeping my arms overhead as he said, keeping my eyes on his.
He doesn’t push the gun in further, but he pulls it slowly out, pushes it back in, fucking me with it.
“You’re doing so good,” he tells me, still watching me, still circling my clit with his thumb. “You’re perfect, baby girl”
I feel myself getting closer, feel myself tensing around the gun. The knowledge that at any moment, he could pull that trigger, for some reason, it gets me closer, faster. He’s holding my life in his hands. He’s in complete control, and I want to give it to him.
Everything.
He’s already taken so much, he’s already done so much. My eyes go to the wound on his shoulder, and I think of how he grabbed that knife from Colton with his hand. Took a fucking bullet for me. Killed a man for hurting me. I see the stitches above his eye, think of Mamie’s words.
He’s going to do so much more for me. Take so much.
He just doesn’t know it yet.
My back arches off the bed and he smiles at me.
“That’s it, beautiful girl,” he coaxes me. “Come for me. Just let go.”
A moan escapes my lips as pleasure rushes through me, and I clench my walls against the gun. He shifts on the bed, leans down over me and runs his tongue over my inner thigh, the warm sensation contrasting with the cold of the gun.
When I cry out his name, he moves his thumb, takes over with his mouth on my clit.
