But if she wanted a ride on his plane, she should tell himright then.
Dree took a deep breath and decided that yes, she wanted to walk away while her mind and her heart weren’t shredded, and she needed to go with Isaak on his plane to Paris the next day.
Dree turned, twisted the lock and knob of her bedroom door, and flung it open.
Maxence stood outside, his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, and he looked at her with dark fire smoldering in his eyes.
Her hand reached out before she could stop herself, grabbed a fistful of his white tee-shirt just below his throat, and yanked him inside her bedroom.
His mouth found hers before the door slammed behind him, and he caught her waist with his hands to crush her against his chest.
She hadn’t kissed him since Paris despite their furtive touches in their tent, and she was starving for him. His tongue pushed into her mouth, stroking hers, and his groan matched her hunger.
Maxence shoved her legs with his muscular thighs, walking her backward to the bed. If he had been anyone else, the insistence and the strength he used to compel her might have scared her, but they had denied themselves for a month. Her body hungered for him from the inside out, wanting to feel his silken curls in her hands, his skin pressing her body into the bed, his cock in her mouth and throat and filling her up inside.
All the reasons she should stop weighed on her, but she yanked the shoulders of his tee-shirt. He contracted his chest and ducked as she pulled it off over his head, baring his shoulders to her palms. His skin was satin and velvet over the iron of his muscles, and she dropped his shirt on the floor.
The backs of her legs hit the bed frame, and she climbed onto the mattress and kneeled on it, making her several inches taller.
His lips captured hers again, and he slipped his hands under the hem of her shirt and found her waistline.
His fingertips stroked her flesh, and she inhaled.
He kissed lower, sucking her skin under her jawline. She arched backward, curving her whole body to press her breasts against his chest but let him mouth her throat. His arm behind her back crushed her against him. His other hand roamed, grasping her breast and teasing the tight point of her nipple through her shirt, and then kneading the soft flesh of her ass.
With almost a snarl, he grabbed her clothes and pulled them away, dragging her shirt over her head and her jeans and panties down her legs. In seconds, she was naked in the cool room, and he grabbed her and squeezed her body against him. His head bowed to her shoulder. His hands were relentless as he explored her body, touching, squeezing, pinching her if it seemed she was paying too much attention to her explorations of his firm, rippled body.
She dragged her fingers over his broad shoulders and the flat ripples of his abs, and he hissed as he inhaled through his teeth. His next bite on her shoulder was more savage, so she wrapped her hand around his muscled ass and gripped the denim-over-steel of his backside.
That earned her a hard pinch of her nipple and a strong push back onto the bed, where she almost bounced, but his hands on her thighs and his mouth between them held her down.
He parted her folds with his tongue and devoured her, sucking and rubbing as her back bowed. She reached behind her head to grab the quilt and hang on. She couldn’t scream. The walls might be thin.
When she’d scooted on the bed too far for his famished attack, he grabbed her ankle and hauled her back to his mouth.
She whipped her head back and forth, trying so hard to be silent. Her body was tightening, the muscles of her hips straining. She couldn’t restrain one soprano whimper.
Another hard yank on her leg pulled her entirely off the bed, and she landed on her knees on the cold floor.
Maxence grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her head back. His jeans were already open, and he shoved his massive cock into her mouth and down her throat. She grabbed the bottom of the bed behind her butt for balance.
He whispered, his voice gravelly, “Hands behind your back.”
Dree did.
She clasped her hands behind her, pushing her breasts out, and complied with what he told her to do because she couldn’t imagine doing anything else. If he couldn’t give her his whole life, if he could only give her that night, she was going totakeit.
He rocked his hips forward, shoving his cock into her mouth, pinning her back against the side of the bed and her head between his fist and his cock. Her nose neared the black mat of hair above his root, and the aroma of his clean male body, soap, and the spice and burning oak of his cologne filled her nose and mind.
He jerked, shoving it deeper down her throat, and a tear ran out of the corner of her eye. The rough denim of his jeans scraped her chin.
This wasn’t a blow job. This was claiming every part of her. It wasn’t for his pleasure but for his power.
And her gaping mouth was empty.
She coughed with the openness of her mouth and throat.
He hauled her up by her shoulders and shoved her backward on the bed. He pushed his jeans down his legs, stumbling and leaning on the bed, bending the mattress under her, but then his magnificent body was naked and gleaming in the light from the nightstand and crushing her beneath him.
