And her trust released an abundance of emotions, both wanted and unwanted, tumbling around his chest, his head, and of course, his cock. A few weeks ago, he hadn’t known this woman existed. But recently, more and more, her presence in his life was becoming a necessity.
She evoked desire, hunger, pride, and affection, not to mention a powerful urge to protect her from every other male walking the earth.
He leaned forward and kissed her. He didn’t tease or tantalize, but pressed his mouth to her center. She jerked, but was clutching the sides of his head, so he gripped a thigh with one hand and used his other to draw feathery lines along her crease.
She groaned, and the thought crossed his mind that he’d give her anything she wanted, take her to the ends of the earth if she wished.
Everything he had was hers.
A CELEBRATION
Caroline had secretly known similar sensations at home, in her own bed, evoked by her own hand. But they had been… a mere shadow of what she felt now. Because this was real. Max was real.
But also… a dream.
“Do you like this?” Max stopped just long enough to hold her gaze.
Caroline nodded.
She watched his thumb, smoothing her flesh, parting her opening. “This?” he asked.
“Yes.” That one word barely sounded human. She lost all ability to speak when he dipped a finger inside. The feeling was a fantastic stretching, the scratching of an itch she didn’t know she’d had.
Caroline knew this wasn’t the behavior of a proper lady—especially not an unmarried one. But she might never marry. And if she did, she doubted she’d find anyone she liked as much as Maxwell Black.
Or trusted as much.
Or wanted as much.
She would not stop him. This night was special. It was magical. Overwhelmed by this longing, she let her head fall back, closing her eyes. If not for him holding her, she’d slide right off the desk and onto the floor. She might fall off the ends of the earth.
Relishing each stroke and kiss and taste, her breathing grew more and more shallow.
She might die if he stopped now.
The pace of his stroking grew faster, deeper. Like the most talented musician, he played her with precision. Kissing. Sucking. Rubbing.
Each breath came in little bursts while she reached for her completion. She grasped his hair tighter, moving her hips against him, not knowing what she wanted, just knowing she wanted more.
But he knew, and he pressed deeper, scraping his whiskers over tender flesh. “That’s my girl,” he said.
His voice spoken…there…sent fire shooting through her veins, hot, then cold, as her muscles clenched and spasmed.
She threw an arm over her head, knocking something off the desk. The glass tumbler shattered, but Caroline was powerless as sharp waves of pleasure washed over her. One by one, the powerful sensations stole her breath, her ability to think, her ability to move, until they finally ebbed.
A celebration, indeed.
When she’d finally relaxed, Max stilled.
Between her legs.
Caroline lay on the desk, her knees resting on Max’s shoulders, and opened her eyes. The sun was rising and the pale light coming in the windows dimmed the shadows that danced on the ceiling. Watching them, Caroline waited for the certain mortification that would come.
But rather than tuck her away and suggest it was time to take her home, Maxwell rested his chin on her thigh, staring at her with a look that was nearly as dazed as she felt.
“Do you always celebrate like this?” she asked, a little embarrassed but not as much as she ought to be.
She felt too satisfied to be mortified.
