In answer, I grab the front of his shirt and pull him back for more. My legs part around his hips, and the hard length of him presses between my thighs, sending a bolt of need through me.
Max pauses and his forehead drops to mine. “Tell me to slow down.”
“Why would I do something so ridiculous?”
“Because I’m hanging on by a thread.”
I roll my hips against him.
“Lila,” he growls, and I want more of that. More instinct and less man. “You’re wearing too many clothes.”
“Then fix it.”
He hooks his fingers beneath the hem of my top, and I lift my arms as Max draws it over my head. His attention drops to my bright turquoise strapless lace bra as though I’ve revealed a priceless work of art.
“So pretty,” he rumbles, and I know those words are straight from his fox.
Max traces one finger along the top of each cup. My skin erupts in goosebumps beneath the light touch.
He finds the clasp and releases it with a flick of his fingers. The lace slips down my arms, catching at my elbows before dropping to the floor.
His eyes move over my tits, lingering on my tight nipples. The silence stretches, and I can feel the pulse in my throat, in my chest, between my legs. His jaw tightens. His nostrils flare. His pupils swallow the green of his irises until there’s only a thin ring left.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” he says, voice a low rumble.
“You should have said something.”
“I’m saying it now.”
He reaches past me, and his hand comes back holding the bowl of blackberry frosting.
“You always make us the most delicious treats.” He tilts the bowl, purple flecks catching the kitchen lights. “My fox loves sweets.”
He dips one finger into the frosting and paints it across my collarbone. With the tip of his tongue, he maps my skin before dipping into the hollow at the base of my throat.
“Even better than the cupcakes,” he murmurs.
“Those cupcakes won second place.”
“Those cupcakes didn’t make that sound you just made.” Again, he dips his finger into the bowl. “Let’s see if I can get a louder one.”
This time the frosting goes on my sternum.
His tongue follows the trail down, down, down.
He doesn’t rush, giving each inch of my skin attention. The flat of his tongue, then the point, then a scrape of teeth that makes me jerk and moan. My chest heaves. My nipples are tight and aching, and he hasn’t even touched them. Hasn’t touched anywhere I need him most.
“Please, Max.” The words are ragged.
He lowers his head and closes his mouth around one nipple. The wet heat of his mouth draws a moan from my throat as his tongue strokes across the hardened peak. His hand cups my other breast, kneading the soft weight before rolling the nipple between his fingers.
My hips jerk, thighs clamping around his hips.
His stubble rasps over my skin, leaving behind a trail of pink as he moves to the other side.
The sting only makes everything better, hotter. Only makes me needier.
He sucks harder, and I bury my fingers in his hair and pull. The sound he makes is deep, inhuman, vibrating through my nipple straight down to my clit.
