The Reluctant Nude - Meg Maguire [58]
Beneath him, Fallon transformed. She whimpered and fidgeted and muttered his name, hands wrapped hard around his arms.
Max stifled the groan rising in his throat. His cock ached to be touched, pounding so hard it hurt, just like the previous night when he’d sampled her with his mouth, made her come on his fingers. He craved those sensations, the tightness, the wetness, wrapped around his own pleasure. He prayed to a God he didn’t believe in anymore to make her ask him for it. Against the pads of his middle two fingers, he felt her desire.
“Max.” Oh, the sweetest possible syllable in the world.
“Yes?”
“I want you.” She emphasized the proclamation with a tug at his belt.
“You can have anything you want, mon ange,” he promised, pressing his lips against her forehead, slipping into words that felt as though they’d been spoken a lifetime ago. He felt unsteady fingers fumble with his buckle. He stroked her faster, the speed of his touch mounting with his excitement as she freed the button of his jeans then coaxed down the zipper. He moaned.
Fallon eased his pants over his hips and her fingers found him. He bucked from the shock of the pleasure, thrusting eagerly into her hands.
“Max.”
“Touche-moi.” Goddamn it, why did he always forget how to speak English at moments like this? Fallon’s slow, rough pulls were wiping his brain clean. “Ma peau—touch my skin.” He pushed his underwear down, releasing his cock into the cool, soft heaven of her palm. His hips convulsed from the potency of it, the sensation of her hand exploring him, controlling him. “Yes. You make me so hard.”
She moaned his name. Against his rubbing fingers, the cotton grew wet. The time for patience had passed. Max grabbed her underwear at either hip and tugged them down, peeling them off her legs before doing the same with his jeans and briefs. He leaned over her for the box on the nightstand and mangled the cardboard getting to a condom. He forewent the civility of trying to open it with slippery fingers, tearing the packet with his teeth.
“Dis-moi. Tell me you want this,” he said, unrolling it down his length and staring at her body in the fading light from the window above them.
“You have no idea.” Her eyes roamed him in return, growing wide as he knelt between her legs, looking transfixed by the view between their bodies.
He was awed by his own hardness as he guided himself to her center. Fighting the urge to plunge his cock as deep as she could take him, he eased in the first inch, gritting his teeth.
Her groan told him she was ready for more. Her hands held his backside as he gave her half his length. He drew back, then went further.
“Do you know what you need?” The words came out maniacal from the effort it took Max to stay in control.
“It doesn’t matter tonight. Just show me what you like.”
“Comme tu veux.” He abandoned his attempts at self-restraint. Inside she was as lush and deep as her full hips promised. In a matter of thrusts he was buried as far as he could go. “God, yes.”
“You feel so good,” she whispered.
And she was wrong—he felt amazing. The slick tightness of her made him feel even harder, even bigger and thicker. Inside her, he felt powerful. He leaned back on his haunches to watch their two bodies, to watch and feel her fingers and palms slide down his abdomen, slick with sweat. He grunted, animalistic.
“Tell me how I feel.”
Her hands gripped his hips, possessive. “You feel big. And hard—”
“No, tell me how it feels. Having me inside you.” He thrust deep and slow.
She seemed to consider her answer, closing her eyes, surrendering her body to his. “You feel…strong. And close. Like you’re more than inside me.”
“Like I’m a part of you?”
Her eyes opened. “Maybe.”
“Touch yourself,” he ordered, barely