His mouth grabbed hers again, and his fingers rubbed her clit that was raw from his mouth as he found her opening and guided himself into her.
She bit his shoulder, whispering, “Please,please.”
With one violent thrust, he shoved himself hard into her, and she almost flew off the bed from his invasion of her body. He had her by her shoulders, though, and she couldn’t move. He had impaled her with his cock, slamming her hard, and her fingers found his shoulders. She shouldn’t scream,couldn’t scream.
Her hands curled on his skin and dug in.
His voice in her ear was a growl, “More,moreor I’ll fuck you harder.”
“Yes.”She was arching against him, desperate for more of his skin and his body and the rich scent of his cologne like fire, crushed herbs, and natural musk overpowering her.“God, yes. Do it.”
His rough body scraped her clit and inside her, pushing her harder as he shoved her back on the bed, climbed on with his knees, and forced himself deeper into her.
Her head was spinning, and she was breathing too fast, and she clung to him with her fingernails as he barreled into her, crashing his body into hers as she tightened and spiraled higher.
Her mind screamed because her throat couldn’t.
She bucked under him, almost crying, and that last scrape of friction broke through. The orgasm crashed through her, a blast that ripped through the tension and broke her apart, and her hands dug deeper.
Maxence was gasping against her shoulder, a choke in his throat, as the last instinctive jerks ran through his body. His arms tightened around her shoulders.
Dree curled her arms and legs around him because this moment might be all she had.
He didn’t move, but his breath was restless.
She held on.
After a few minutes, he pulled away, the sweat of their coupling running down her sides. She thought Max might just pull on his clothes and leave without a word because the conflict in him must be tremendous, but he held his hand out to her.
She took it.
He led her into the bathroom and washed her body, taking care of her like she was a doll he’d abused.
As he crouched to wash her legs, warm water from the shower rolled over the dark red parallel lines from her nails that crossed the tattooed feathers in his skin. The black silk of his hair clumped as water flowed through it.
She touched his shoulder, and he looked up at her, his dark eyes watching her. She let her fingers trail under his chin, and with just the gentlest pressure, guided him to stand.
He kissed her gently as water covered them, and then he dried her off and carried her to the bed, where he wrapped his body around hers.
Still, he didn’t say anything.
And he left the light on, like he might need to see when he put on his clothes to leave her.
She let the silence drag on because she didn’t want to drive him away with words, any words.
Finally, the pain of not speaking overpowered the fear of driving him away.
She said, “You want to save the world, not just every woman who’s in danger, but everyone.”
His skin moved under her palms as he shrugged.
“You want to be a priest,” she said.
“A Jesuit.”
“And so, there’s no future for us,” she said.
“There is,” he said, and he took her hand, laying their clasped hands on the velvet skin of his chest. “I saw you working out there, pouring your spirit and your life into this project and this country and the people you cared for. You’re an angel sent to Earth to save it. You belong out there with me.”
