I release her hair and reach between her thighs, my fingers seeking out her swollen clit, rubbing tight circles.
Her muscles tighten, her pussy strangling my cock as her body seizes. She cries out, cominghard.The combined feel of her snatched pussy clutching me and the plug snug against my cock, I shatter with her, roaring her name.
She wrings me out, sucking me in as I spill into her, loading her up with my seed. I don’t stop until she’s chanting my name and I’m empty. Until she’s full.
Pulling out, I collapse beside her and gather her into me.
“Damn,” I say, catching my breath.
Planting her hand over my heart, she smiles up at me. It almost sucks all the air out of my lungs.
“I love butt plugs,” she whispers.
“Yeah?” I smirk, tickling her sides and she bursts out laughing, the sound a sweet melody I want to bottle and keep.
She throws a leg over my waist, still leaking on me, and I smile to myself, holding her flush against my body. Like she might slip through my fingers if I let go. And this time, she stays, tracing her fingertips idly over my skin.
No excuses. No running away. Justbeing.
I know what I’ve asked of her isn’t small. Trust doesn’t come easy for her, that much is obvious. As I lie beside her, running my fingers through her silky hair, kissing her forehead, her temple, every soft, sacred place I can reach, I remind myself to crack open too. To let her see all of Max Browne. To offer her the same vulnerability I’ve asked for.
I just hope like hell that it’s enough to make her stay.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Max
“Max, hurry up. I’m about to die of boredom,” Anna calls from the other side of the dressing room door.
After dropping Gemma at the office, I asked Anna to meet me at Harrods to help me select a suit for the hotel launch party. Prying myself away from Gemma was physically painful, but I’m seeing her tonight, and that thought’s the only thing keeping me sane.
I feel as though I’ve neglected Anna lately, and I know she’s going through a tough time. She deserves my attention.
The irony isn’t lost on me—my selfishness toward Gemma is likely going to hurt my sister far more than any absence ever has. But the truth? I don’t have it in me to stop.
I’m beginning to really care about her best friend, far more than I ever intended to.
We’re treating something amazing as if it’s forbidden—shameful. But it’s real. It’s right. And I’m sick of fighting it.
Everything shifted today.
Gemma showed me a part of herself I suspect few have ever witnessed. When those eyes that typically guard everything finally allowed me entry, I was lost entirely.
My wanting Gemma began as pure instinct. It was innate and immediate from the first moment I saw her. But it’s evolved into something far deeper than I ever expected or prepared for.
I hate that when we’re in the office, we’re forced to ignore our desires. The tension between us is so overwhelming, I don’t know if we’re about to fight or fuck—and I want both.
When I told her I wanted to see her—trulysee her—I meant it. Throughout my career, I’ve made it my business to read people, to understand and fulfill their needs before they can articulate them. But with Gemma? She’s a language all her own—and I want fluency.
I shrug on the suit jacket, swing open the door, and step up to the wall of floor-to-ceiling mirrors.
“You said you were happy to meet me,” I say, adjusting the lapels.
Anna rolls her eyes dramatically. “I am. I love shopping. I just prefer when it’smeyou’re spending money on.”
“Hmm.”
Anna stands, striding toward me and pulling at the tag hanging from the jacket sleeve.
