He rises slowly, pressing kisses to my inner thigh, my stomach. His lips trace a path between my breasts and up my throat until he reaches my mouth.
I taste myself on his tongue. Salt and musk and sweetness.
“Still with me?” He pulls back enough to study my face.
I nod, not trusting my voice.
His thumb traces my swollen bottom lip. “Good. Because I’m not done with you.”
The promise in those words reignites the fire in my veins as he grabs a bowl of lemon frosting, the spatula still in it.
“On your feet, Lila.”
I slide off the counter, my legs wobbling. Max steadies me, then turns me to face the island before he presses against my back, clothes rough against my bare skin. I can feel every inch of him through his jeans, and the friction makes me whimper.
“You’re overdressed,” I manage.
He steps back long enough to strip off his shirt. His belt clinks, and his zipper rasps before his shorts hit the floor.
Then he’s back, and there’s nothing between us but heat.
The length of him presses against my lower back, hot silk over iron. I push against him, and his hand clamps down on my hips.
“Patience.” But there’s affection in the growl.
Something flat and sticky smacks against my ass.
I jump. “Did you just spank me?”
“You left your spatula in the frosting. Seemed a shame to waste it. Now, hands on the counter, Lila.”
The spatula traces down my spine. I shiver as he follows the line with his tongue, licking me clean from the small of my back all the way up to my nape. His teeth graze the sensitive skin behind my ear, and my knees nearly buckle.
“You’re doing so well.” His lips brush my ear. “Such a good girl for me.”
I’m going to combust.
The spatula comes down on my right ass cheek with a sticky smack hard enough to make my skin tingle.
“Look at that. Made a mess,” Max tsks. “Better clean it up.”
He drops to his knees again, hands gripping my hips, thumbs digging into the soft curves above my ass as he pulls me back toward his face. With broad, flat strokes of his tongue, he laps the frosting from my skin, pausing to nip the swell of my ass.
I gasp before letting out a moan.
He rises, and I hear the spatula clatter back into the bowl. His body covers mine again, chest to back, skin to skin. His cock nudges my entrance, and I push against him.
“Please,” I whisper. “Please, Max. I need?—”
I cry out as he enters me in one long thrust.
The stretch is divine. A fullness so overwhelming it borders on pain. My pussy flutters around him as he sinks in deeper.
“You feel—” His voice cracks on the word. Splinters into something raw and vulnerable. “There aren’t words.”
Emotion swells in my chest, and I push back against him, sheathing him to the hilt, taking every last inch.
“Fuck me, Max.”
