Page 77 of Nemesis Mine
When it came to that—when it came to letting Max insidehimrather than the other way round—Cyrus had hesitated. It felt like the final vulnerability he had to cling on to.
The question was there, in Max’s eyes.
His hands, his touch. His knee right between Cyrus’s legs, pressing—
Cyrus swallowed. Nerves swirled, trying to gain a foothold, but desire swamped them, hot and heavy. He nodded, a quick little thing.
Max rolled himself back on top of Cyrus in a fluid movement. Pinned, Cyrus groaned at the weight of him, but it feltgood, solid and inescapable. He fidgeted, just a little, unable to resist.
But Max knew him. A strong hand cupped his jaw, tilting his head up. He drew Cyrus’s bottom lip into his mouth and sucked gently.
Just when Cyrus felt as though he couldn’t bear the light touches any longer, he neededmore, Max began to move down his body. Kisses mapped the curve of his throat, his collarbone. He moved his lips over the healed scar at Cyrus’s side, apologetic. Cyrus couldn’t hide his quickenedbreathing, the rise and fall of his chest giving him away, but the look Max cast him from beneath his lashes was fondly amused.
“Easy,” he murmured. “Don’t be nervous. We won’t do anything you don’t want.”
An abdominal muscle twitched at the brush of his beard. “Tickles. And I’m not nervous,” Cyrus mumbled.
Max’s smile spread. He settled his palm low on Cyrus’s stomach so they could both watch the rapid rise and fall. The warmth of his palm felt like a brand. “No?”
“No. Just—” Cyrus blew out a breath, letting his head thump back against the pillow. He needed to get ahold of himself. He summoned his best scowl, then jerked his head back up. It wasn’t very good, considering the circumstances; it was more of a pout than anything. But it would do. “Fuck off, you know I’m just turned on.”
Max grinned. He kissed Cyrus’s skin again, watching the muscles contract, until Cyrus reached down and grabbed a handful of thick coppery hair, squeezing tight. Max groaned at that but acquiesced, sliding further down. He kissed at the jut of a hip bone, then paused and looked, checking for a reaction.
Whatever he saw reassured him. Max gave a pleased little smile. His bronze head lowered and a slow exhale sent another shiver ricocheting through Cyrus’s body, every nerve lighting up in anticipation.
He let his head flop back, telling himself that he was ready, but a groan still punched its way out of him when Max took his length into his mouth. His hips jerked automaticallybut Max’s hands were there in an instant, pressing him back down. He drew back, just for a second, and Cyrus growled his displeasure.
Max tutted. “Like I said. Greedy.”
“Like you don’t know it,” Cyrus mumbled. This, they had done before.
There was that grin again, only this time it was heavy-lidded and underlined by an intent focus. Max leaned over him, his hands still splayed out over Cyrus’s hips. The touch of his tongue made Cyrus swear under his breath, his hands fisting in the sheets, and then Max was taking all of him and wet heat was everywhere, it was everything, all consuming, the languid slide of that tongue coupled with pressure so good it almost hurt.
When Max pulled back again, his lips were swollen and his cheeks flushed. He was beautiful, so beautiful, and he was Cyrus’s.
He was looking at Cyrus, checking his reaction again. The flood of affection was strong enough to push past everything else, anchoring him in the moment despite the dazed pleasure still dragging his mind in every direction.
“Good?” Max asked.
A fervent nod. “Good.” And so fucking what if his voice shook as he said it.
Max’s smile was soft this time. He sat back, uncorking the bottle and letting oil trickle over his fingers. Cyrus watched his expression, the rapt concentration in the furrowed brow. He set the oil aside, lowering himself down and pressing a kiss to a trembling thigh. His hand ghosted between Cyrus’s legs, and then—
Strange but pleasurable, the sensation of Max touching him there, even as he made the lightest of circles with his forefinger. Cyrus twitched, his teeth digging into his lip. Then Max pushed gently.
Cyrus’s head dropped to the pillow, breathing unsteadily as he adjusted. Max was careful with him, so careful. Slow movements, more oil. Like he was something precious. He exhaled as he relaxed, his world centring around Max, around his touch.
“Good,” Max murmured, and why exactly did that send his stomach somersaulting again, helpless pleasure attached to the words? He wasn’t good, he was—
Max crooked his fingers. Pleasure bolted up Cyrus’s spine, dragging out a noise somewhere between a gasp and a groan, and making his legs fall boneless around Max.
Max gave a pleased little hum. “That’s it, you’re so good for me.”
He would be good for Max. He would be anything Max asked, so long as he kept doing that.
Max did. There could hardly be any oil left in the vial but Cyrus wasn’t complaining, because it feltgood. His clever fingers moved until Cyrus was sweating and squirming beneath him. Then Max cast the oil aside and reached back up for a kiss, settling himself between Cyrus’s spread thighs. His free hand stroked the side of Cyrus’s face, tender, until their eyes met.
The shadows made Max’s eyes look darker than they were. They still managed to be soft in the flickering lamplight.
