“May I?” I ask, voice barely above the hush of the flames.
A slow, warm grin answers me. He lifts both arms, giving silent permission. I ease the T-shirt upward, inch by inch, exposing hard ridges of abdomen, then the broad expanse of his chest. Candlelight skims over smooth skin and the subtle indent of an old scar near his ribcage. My breath snags at the sight—he’s beautiful, yes, but human, marked by living.
I trace the scar lightly. “Tour souvenir?” I whisper.
“Stage dive gone wrong,” he murmurs. “Worth it for the encore.”
I smile, then flatten my palm over his heart. The steady beat thuds against my skin, grounding and electrifying all at once. I slide my hand upward, fingers splaying across his shoulder, feeling muscle flex under the gentle pressure. He exhales, eyelids fluttering.
Slowly, purposefully, I lean down to press a kiss over the storm-cloud tattoo, tasting salt and soap. His breath hitches; his hand rises to cradle the nape of my neck, not to guide—only to feel.
Encouraged, I map him with lips and fingertips: the hollow at his throat, the strong line of his collarbone, the sweep of tense muscle where his shoulder meets his biceps. Each exploration earns a quiet sound from him—sometimes a soft hum, sometimes a sharper intake of breath that skitters down my spine like sparks.
I pause above his heartbeat, pressing another kiss there.
Max’s eyes meet mine, and he smiles softly, his gaze reassuring. “Take your time, Nora,” he says, his voice calm and steady. “I’m righthere with you.” His words ease some of the tension in my shoulders, and I nod, stepping closer to the bed.
I sit beside him, my fingers trembling slightly as I reach out to touch his chest. His skin is warm under my fingertips, and I feel a jolt of electricity as I trace the lines of his muscles. “Is this okay?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
“More than okay,” he murmurs, closing his eyes as I continue to explore. I take a moment to study him, to memorize the way his chest rises and falls with each breath. His hair falls softly across his forehead, and I resist the urge to brush it back.
My fingers drift lower, grazing the edge of his waistband. I hesitate, my cheeks flushing with heat. “Can I…?” I trail off, not sure how to ask.
Max opens his eyes, his expression gentle. “You can do anything you want,” he says, his hand reaching up to cover mine. “I’m yours to explore.”
I unbutton his jeans slowly, my heart racing as I pull the zipper down. The sound seems unbearably loud in the quiet room, and I hold my breath as I slide his jeans down his legs.
His body is beautiful, and I feel a surge of desire mixed with awe. I’ve never seen anything like this before, and I’m both nervous and eager to learn. My fingers hover over his boxers, and I look up at him for reassurance.
“Go ahead,” he encourages, his voice low and inviting.
I nod, slipping my hand beneath the elastic waistband. My fingers brush against him, and a soft gasp escapes me—he’s hard, bigger than I imagined. The thought of where he could fit inside me sends a flush racing over my skin.
“Does that feel good?” I ask, my voice barely audible.
“So good, Baby. You’re doing amazing,” he murmurs, his eyes closing as I begin to stroke him gently.
My fingers move slower, and I watch his face as I touch him. His eyes are closed, his lips parted slightly, and I feel a surge of power knowing that I’m the one making him feel this way. It’s a heady feeling, one that makes me want to keep going, to learn more.
“Nora,” he whispers, his voice filled with wonder. “You’re perfect.”
I smile against his skin, my heart swelling with affection. I’ve never felt this way before—so desired, so needed. It’s a feeling I want to hold onto forever.
My lips hover over the waistband of his boxers, and I take a deep breath before pressing a kiss there. I feel him shiver, and I know I’m doing something right. I’m learning, and he’s letting me, his trust in me giving me the confidence to keep exploring.
I look up at him, my cheeks flushed with heat. “I want to… taste you,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper.
Max’s eyes widen, and he nods slowly. “Fuck, Baby. You’re driving crazy,” he says, his hands resting gently on my shoulders.
I lean down, my lips brushing against him through the fabric of his boxers. I’m nervous, but the way he moans encourages me to keep going. I pull the fabric down slowly, my heart pounding as I reveal him fully.
He’s beautiful, and I feel a surge of desire as I take him in my hands. I press a soft kiss to the tip, and I feel him shudder beneath me.
I smile, my confidence growing as I begin to explore with my mouth. I’m careful, moving slowly as I try to figure out what feels good.
I’m lost in the moment, in the way he feels and tastes and sounds.
My mouth continues to move in lavish exploration, and I feel his hands guiding me gently.
