Page 78 of Want Me, Take Me, Haunt Me, Make Me

“Thank you,” she said, breathless. A rippling sensation betrayed her internal response as well. The lady liked hearing him desperate, it seemed. “I’m—”

“Close,” said Maxwell, circling his thumbs lightly so that she tensed and caught her breath again. “I know, darling. I can feel.”

Hazel made an incoherent noise, letting her head fall back and her eyes flutter closed. She brought the wand around to rest just above where they were joined, then paused, holding on to Maxwell’s shoulder with her free hand as she tried to balance her weight on his legs.

He leaned forward to nip her shoulder. “Easy. I’ll keep us from falling over.”

That reassurance was all she needed, it seemed. Hazel relaxed against him, the strain going out of her thighs and back, just before she switched on her little toy. It buzzed almost quietly, unobtrusively, but its vibration traveled up Maxwell’s body in a surge of feeling he hadn’t expected.

His groan blended with the low noise Hazel made in the back of her throat. Her hand clenched his shoulder, just as her muscles tightened around his cock, and she thrust her hips forward in greedy little motions, seeking contact with both him and the device.

“OhGod.” Her voice was ragged.

“Yes,” he said, not meaning to claim divinity but feeling the need to celebrate her pleasure, to encourage the peak that he could sense building fast. “Lovely girl. Let go for me, let me feel you—”

She didn’t need much persuasion, either verbal or physical. Maxwell hadn’t even finished speaking before she was going over, short nails digging into his shoulder, thighs rigid against his hips. The sound she made was as glorious as he could possibly have imagined—and as lost as he knew himself to be.

* * *

Later, she’d hurt. Hazel knew it even as her brain shorted out in an orgasm that left her dazed, feeling nothing but waves of ecstasy that subsided into a floating contentment. In an hour or so, her thighs would be screaming bloody murder, God only knew what her back would contribute, and none of it mattered. Right there and then, she knew herself, Maxwell, and pleasure.

She switched off the vibrator and let it fall to the floor—cleanup would wait until later too—so that she could hold on to Maxwell with both hands. “So,” she said, enjoying the chance to staredowninto his eyes nearly as much as the granite heat of his cock inside her. “That’s one of the highlights of modern life. I suspect your preference is for more…classical…activity right now?”

“Timeless, one might say.” He panted the words, hips stuttering against hers. Hazel suspected it wasn’t quite voluntary, that he was trying to hold back even then. “But not at your expense.”

“No. I want it too,” she said, which she meant. She’d hurt later, but she’d hurt later regardless. That was why God made Tylenol. The future was a long way away, anyhow.

The present was catching Maxwell’s rhythm and settling into it, the tingling friction of their bodies sliding against each other, the fullness intensifying the remnants of her climax. It was his low, helpless moans as Hazel bit his neck and the way his hands clenched when he thrust upward and flooded her with warmth.

Just then, only the present was worth any of her attention at all.

Chapter 41

Afterward, they sort of unfolded themselves backward and sideways, with motions Hazel couldn’t quite track and was sure she’d never be able to consciously repeat, and ended up with her half on top of Maxwell. His chin rested on her head, and her head on his chest, near one of the lines of sigils. “Tell me if I get too heavy,” she said, even though he’d brushed off her first protests.

“You won’t.” His conviction made her grin. “Your bed is still, however, truly ridiculous.”

Hazel grinned. “Isn’t it? I don’t think I’ve shared such little space with another person since college.”

“I’m surprised that you managed it. You must like your men to have a lean and hungry look.”

“You’re not my first beanpole, that’s true.” She considered her relatively sparse roster. Being a medium or an introvert wasn’t great for the sex life. Being both was hell. “Brandon was larger than you were. We were students, though. We didn’t need joints.”

Maxwell laughed knowingly, making her suspect he’d had a few similar experiences in his past. Hedidn’task who Brandon was. “He’s my ex-husband,” Hazel volunteered. “And my lawyer, so you might have seen him around.”

“Ah, yes. He seemed to know his business.” Maxwell sounded very neutral.

“Not first in his class, but in the top third.”

“I hope it’s not an uncomfortable arrangement for you.”

He didn’t quite hold up a sign sayingI Am Not Prying, but it was close. Hazel hugged him a little out of impulse. “No worse than mildly awkward. It’s not like we hated each other when we split up, or did it for a big dramatic reason—though I think my parents might have had an easier time if we had.”

“It’s easier to separate now, isn’t it? I admit I haven’t kept track.”

“Mm-hmm. I don’t know when no-fault divorce became a thing, but I think you had to go to Reno until the sixties. Brandon and I just showed up at the courthouse, filed some papers, and gave them a credit card. No vacation out West.”

Maxwell brushed a strand of hair back from her forehead, stroking lightly down the side of her face. “Would you mind if I asked why it happened?”