“I’m sorry that your first time has to be like this,” I whisper against his lips. He takes my hair in his hand again, but then relaxes his grip, massaging my scalp with his fingertips.
“I’m not.” He adjusts our bodies so that he’s lying between my legs, the condom-covered tip of him brushing against me and making me gasp. “I just wish we didn’t have to rush it. That we didn’t have to feel guilty. That you’d chosen me, and I’d been brave enough to choose you from the get-go.”
I have no idea what, exactly, that means, but then he’s kissing me and thrusting in hard and deep enough that I gasp against his mouth. Our lips and tongues work together fervently as his muscles tighten up and he shudders like he’s just experienced the most amazing thing in the entire world.
Me.
Not the sex, not my body, but me.
“X,” I breathe, and he shudders again. His right hand grabs my wrists, pinning them above my head. He lifts up to stare at me, and I forget about everything else. It’s just us, doing something we’ve wanted to do all along—even if neither of us was brave enough to admit it to ourselves.
“Kota.”
He keeps my wrists pinned and then starts to move, slow at first, which is helpful, because he’s thick. I make myself breathe nice and easy which is good because after just a few thrusts, X is pushing into me so hard and fast that my head spins.
Pleasure twists up inside my body, making my muscles tense, and I’m forced to turn my head to one side to bite down on a pillow. Now my body’s just as slick with sweat as his, and it feels way too hot in this damn room.
“Is it terrible,” he whispers, slowing after a few hot and heavy moments, “that I want to do this meanly, just so you’ll never be tempted to do it again?”
“That’s ridiculous,” I reply, but I can barely talk. Words seem damn near impossible.
X doesn’t seem bothered by that, pulling away from me, out of me. I let out a choking sound of protest, but then he’s grabbing my hips and flipping me over. He grabs one of my pillows and offers it up to me.
“For your hips.”
When I make little move to do anything with the pillow at all, he takes it and pushes it beneath me, propping me up. I stay where I am, on all fours, and close my eyes, taking slow, calming breaths.
He grabs me with one hand, guiding himself to that aching pulse between my legs, and driving all the way in with a single thrust. It feels so different like this, so much deeper, so much more intense.
I drop down so that one forearm is pressed into the bed. With the other, I reach between my legs, intending on working my clit with my fingers. What I find is the strange sensation of Maxx’s body pressed into mine, the two of us melded together in the most intimate way possible.
Maxx grips my hips with both hands, and then he starts to thrust again, fast and furious.
I manage to make my rebellious fingers—those very same rebellious fingers that refused to open the door inside Maxx’s Jeep at the party that seems so damn long ago—work against my clit. Just a single touch, and I’m falling apart.
It’s too much.
I bite my lower lip—again—but it seems appropriate for the moment.
“Oh god, Kota,” he chokes out. “Don’t do that to me.”
Whatever it is that I’m doing, I have no control over. I rub my clit harder, faster, and that pleasure begins to break like a wave. Maxx curses, and then he’s grabbing my hair and yanking on it hard enough that I actually come up to all fours again, my palms pressing into the mattress.
He rides me furiously, slamming me into with so much vigor that even without my fingers on my clit, I come apart. I shatter. I melt. I let myself have him in that moment. Maxx is mine, and nobody else’s. We live in a fantasy world where we become a couple, and everything is bright and beautiful—even if this moment is dark and twisted.
I’m groaning, even though I’m trying not to, and I’m worried the sounds are too much.
Maxx tightens his hold on my hair and my hips, pushing deep enough that he must feel the cup inside of me. I should’ve warned him about it, but it’s too late now, and I don’t care either way. He lets out a sharp, hot sound and then collapses forward, releasing my hair and slamming his palms atop mine just in time to keep the full force of his weight from pinning me to the bed.
He curls the fingers of our right hands together, squeezing hard; he’s surprisingly gentle with my injured left hand, even now.
