But she had not expected this. Nor known either that she was capable of this. Like brandy poured on flame, she was greedy, drinking up everything he had to offer, and he made sure to offer her everything.
Once this was over, she would never be the same again, and she was glad about it.
He pushed her closer and closer to that brink, and she rolled her hips against his hand, chasing that light, knowing that when it hit, she would become something different, something new. This would be different from their other times, and the soberness with which he looked at her told her that he felt it too.
This was no longer something scandalous and forbidden.
Instead, it was a representation of their bond. Their marriage.
Just as she thought she would tip over and find her bliss, Maxwell rose, coming to lean over her. The feeling faded, and she shifted impatiently.
“Maxwell,” she moaned, and he captured her mouth with a blazing kiss as he settled his member at her entrance.
It took her a moment to understand what he intended, and by the time her mind caught up to her body, already loose and welcoming, he had thrust inside.
The stretch was almost a burn, so tight she caught her breath.
Maxwell took her face in his hands. “Let me know if this hurts,” he said, holding her gaze as he pushed, and pushed, and pushed, until she felt as though she was wholly full, until she was sure there was no more space left inside her.
And still he eased himself inside, making space for his length, demanding that her body yield. And it did. Against all odds, despite everything, it did.
Then they were joined, hip to hip, nose to nose, eyes to eyes. His mouth brushed over hers in a sweet kiss at odds with the demanding hunger of just seconds ago.
“Is this all right?” he asked.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, please…”
Knowing what she meant, or perhaps just needing the same, he withdrew and pushed inside again. This time, it was easier, the stretch lesser. She opened her legs, letting him inside, and he took her. Back against the mattress, her legs open wide to accommodate him, she needed to do nothing but let him plunder her as he would.
And oh, it was glorious.
“Look at me,” he demanded, holding her wrists lightly against the pillows behind her. “Don’t you look away.”
She couldn’t even if she had wanted to; he dominated all her thoughts. Her entire world had narrowed to him. Nothing existed but the rhythmic push of his body against hers, the way his narrow hips slammed into hers. Perhaps it ought to be uncomfortable, but with every thrust, her eyes rolled back into her head.
“Maxwell,” she gasped.
“Enjoying yourself, my sweet?” He grinned down at her, more of that male pride on his face.
Here, made vulnerable through pleasure, he seemed more open than she had ever seen him, as though every other time, he had been hiding behind defenses and guards, and now he was stripped bare.
This was the true Maxwell, and he was the most beautiful creation she had ever seen.
Another roll of his hips brought her closer to the peak he had brought her to before, and she nodded, unable to form another word.
“All right.” He threaded a hand into her hair, tugging lightly.
Everything he did was gentle and fierce all at once, as though he was testing her limits even as he was setting the pace for what their enjoyment would look like.
So strong, so powerful, so determined to take her, and yet if she gave the word, he would stop. Instantly. No matter how much he wanted her, no matter what they were doing, and how close to his own pleasure he was.
The thought made her feel powerful as never before.
This was what true control looked like; they had both come by it in different ways.
He controlled the way she moved against him. He held her body against his and strummed the strings of her pleasure with his expertise, forming her into everything he could ever want.
And she held such power.
